Posted in Literature with tags , , , , , , , , , on 7 December, 2007 by robonator

Guys. I’m sorry. So, so sorry. I put on my interview suit, grabbed my audio recorder and drove out to Topeka. I met Mr. Dr. Thomas Kelly Jessup Ph.D County Coroner. I interview him. I shook his hand. I left. Got some BK. Got gas. ($2.90!? You’re killin’ me!) Took suit off. Plugged in audio recorder to PC. Listened to 48 minutes of static.


That’s right. My cheap-ass audio recorder failed its single purpose in life. That’s right, to RECORD. Jesus. So, not having taken good notes at all or remembering half of the awesome stuff this guy said I am resorting to making fun of less than talented Harry Potter fanfiction writers. It’s like a comfort thing. Take THAT self-pity! Hah-hah!

Harry Potter: Christmas time at hogwarts
Author: I Love Chocolate Milk

Wait, what? I Love Chocolate Milk? Good to know? Maybe there is a sandwich board on me that asks: “What kind of milk do you like?” Are you this guy?

It was Christmas time once again at hogwarts, normally quite a few students stay at hogwarts, but this year it was different. There was only six people including the teachers who stayed for the Christmas holiday. Those people consisted of: Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger, Draco Malfoy, Albus Dumbledore and Severus Snape. The only reason snape is there is because of Draco, his godson, he stayed incase Draco and Harry had a fight.

Whew, good thing only the six characters the story is about stayed behind. All those minor characters and background characters might have been confusing and hard to write. Good call, man.

Harry had just come back from last minute shopping with Ron, they had bought a lot stuff, mainly junk

What kind of junk? Curious minds inquire!

but also some presents. Once they had put their stuff away in the common rooms they went into the great hall to wait for Hermione. Hermione went into the great hall in a red long sleeved top and white skinny jeans with black pumps. Ron blushed a pale pink when he saw Hermione (Her outfit was rather adorable).

Rather than?

Harry didn’t blush on the other hand, the only reason for that is because Harry didn’t love Hermione anymore than a friend, well, more of a sister, the only reason he didn’t blush when he saw her is because he is gay, and

Whoa, what? For real? Since when?

there was only one wizard for him. He hates to admit it but the guy he likes is Draco. He loves everything about him but half the time he wonders why.

That’s exactly how I feel about the oscillating universe theory.

After a couple of hours Ron and Hermione went upstairs because they had to ‘catch up on some homework’ or so Ron says. The more logical answer is Hermione does the homework and Ron copies it.

You sure they don’t just ‘do it‘?

Harry was sat alone

Who sat him there? God?

on one of the benches in the great hall in deep thought, he didn’t even hear the doors open to a concerned Draco. Draco sat next to Harry.“Potter, why are you alone? Why aren’t you with Weasley and Granger?” Said Draco with a slight hint of worry in his tone.“…”“POTTER!!”“Huh! Oh hi Malfoy, sorry I was deep in thought” About you, he completed in his head.

Harry Potter, apparently the worlds best magician, is also a teenage girl crushing on Aaron Carter?

“Why aren’t you with Weasley and Granger?” Asked Draco again with the same amount of worry in his voice.“They had homework to catch up on, so I stayed down here. Why do you ask, Malfoy?”“Just wondering” Draco answered trying to figure out what he was in deep thought about.They sat like that for a few more minutes before Harry spoke again.“Why did you come here, Malfoy?” Harry asked honestly curious.“Please, call me Draco, we have been civilized with each other for a year. I think I can cope with calling you Harry. As long as you can cope with calling me Draco.” Draco had wanted to be in first name state for ages but wouldn’t admit it to himself.

Call me Robo. If I can call you Nator. I think I can do that. Okay. I love you. Not yet. Now? No.

“Ok, Draco, So why did you come here?”“I needed to speak to you” Draco said whilst

Whilst I couldn’t figure out why it was so damn hard to say “WHILE”.

moving slightly closer to Harry. Harry was totally oblivious and didn’t notice until his and Dracos face were nearly touching.“What did you need to tell me, Draco?”“I wanted to say, …”“Yes …”“I wanted to say,

“… how long do you think I can drag this scene out?”

I love you Harry. I have done since the beginning of last year but I couldn’t say to myself that it happened until a couple of weeks ago”

Because you had a major revelation that allowed you to look past your fear of rejection from your peers and family and your own hurtful, tragic past? Oh, you were shy and nervous like the twelve year old girl writing this? I see.

Harry listened to every word that was said and processed it. Draco loves me. I can’t believe it. Me, ME !

No, me!

Draco took Harrys silence of rejection

Took it and RAN!

. Draco was just about to walk away when Harry grabbed the bottom of his shirt.

Like a preteen girl.

“Wait, Draco, I need to say something as well” Harry paused to gather his thoughts, he was finally going to tell Draco how he felt about him knowing that he loves him back.“I love you as well. From the first day I met you I always have done. Even when we were enemies I knew in my heart that I loved you, and nothing is going to change that”Draco was shocked by Harry’s speech.

I was unaware 37 words counted as a ‘speech’ like the more classical days.

He thought that Harry would never love him back, let alone loved him since the first day they met.
“Will you go out with me?”

Plz check y/n

Harry asked ducking his head whilst his cheeks turned a dark crimson. Draco lifted Harry’s head in his hands and cupped his face.“Yes”Harry couldn’t believe his luck. He jumped up in joy and hugged Draco unable to contain his happiness inside of him. Once Harry had let go, Draco stared into Harry’s bright emerald eyes. Draco titled his head and moved it closer Harry did the same. As soon as there lips touched all of their eyelids went down. Enjoying the blissful touch of one another. Soon Draco moved his tongue and traced the bottom of Harrys lip to let him entrance. Harry obliged. Draco moved his tongue to touch Harrys as soon as they touched there tongues explored each others mouths until air became an issue. Both Harry and Draco parted at the same time.

In other words, they kissed? I’m not sure what is so magical about two boys kissing that makes some people want to describe every detail. If I Love Chocolate Milk wanted to be detailed and accurate, he/she would have written:
“They leaned in close, but Harry flinched and nailed his lip into Draco’s teeth. Both boys stammered out nervous giggles, then attempted to kiss again. This time they succeeded, but Harry wished he hadn’t because Draco’s breath was terrible.” Man, I should write this stuff.

“Wow, that was nice. Im glad you’re my boyfriend Draco. I love you”“I love you too, Harry. Don’t ever leave me”“I wont, I promise”

Until you give me the HIV.

Harry and Draco hugged again, enjoying each other’s company. When they could hear someone clear their throat. Both of them let go of each other and turned to the noise. It was Snape, Ron and Hermione. Snape looked absolutely revolted but happy for his godson at the same time.

What? How can someone even MAKE that expression? Does it look like this?

Ron looked OK about it,

Yeah it’s cool my best friend is gay for our sworn enemy. I’m happy for you dude!

and Hermione, well she looked happy for them, well, more for Harry, but she didn’t look one bit surprised.
“You don’t look very surprised, Granger?” Draco stated.“I’m not surprised Malfoy, that’s why” Hermione replied

What? What?

“Come on, Weasley, Granger, leave them in peace” Snape said whilst gesturing Ron and Hermione out of the great hall. Draco mouthed a thank you to Snape. Snape just bowed his head and said,“You can thank me later, or by naming the baby after me” Snape and Draco smirked very similarly, no wonder they’re related.

What I wonder about is why this part is here at all. Nothing here is useful. Are you high, I Love Chocolate Milk?

“What was that about?” Harry asked wondering what just happened.“Nothing, don’t worry about it love. Come with me to my quarters?”,

Wait, I want to know what just happened. I’m seriously.

“Sure” Harry said whilst trying to keep his nerve.
Draco and Harry walked out the great hall, fingers entwined. Both so happy they can hardly contain it, and both so scared that it will go away.

Don’t they… love each other no matter what? How is it going to go away? DOES NOT COMPUTE! 1010101000101011110010101

So that’s what they do, keep holding on, knowing and loving.

Knowing what? Every line I Love Chocolate Milk writes just serves to confuse and torture me. Was this supposed to be like a deep and thoughtful ending? Stop lightly modifying quotes from Love, Actually and I’ll release your My Little Pony collection.


Thank God. The extra exclamation point really drives home that my suffering is at an end. Well… almost. I’ve got to live with this in my brain for as long as I live. Here’s to Alzheimer’s! I feel ashamed to file this under ‘Literature’. I should add a ‘Don’t Ever Let Your Kids See This’ category. I don’t even really WANT to give this piece a score. It doesn’t deserve numbers. Or letters. I’ll give it a symbol score?

♣êΔ out of √ãØã

I guess?

So I apologize Robros for not being able to seduce you with sweet coroner insights and trivia. Would you feel better if I linked you somewhere neat? Yeah?

Alright, guys. This horrendous failure means I’ve got to do something absurdly cool for tomorrow’s article. I don’t even know where to begin?


Pre-Interview Wrap-up and Hails

Posted in Misc. with tags , , , , , on 6 December, 2007 by robonator

Hey everyone! real quick-like, I’d like to explain just how I got the interview with Mr. Dr. Thomas Kelly Jessup Ph.D County Coroner.

It wasn’t easy!

First of all, coroners are hard dudes to get up with! It took me almost twelve minutes to find it on Google. That’s an eternity, I know! Guys, I had to deal with the most confused secretary ever. Like, I’m surprised she knew that she had a secretaryship to a coroner.

Come on lady!

Then I had to set up an interview appointment. She was all wanting me to come in next month at some ridiculous time in the afternoon. I said “No Way!” (Both words capitalized yeah!) I negotiated a good time, then I asked if I could bring my camera right, so you all can see how awesome it will be and she was like “No Way!” (It sucks being on the receiving end, robros!) I can bring in a tape recorder, so tonight’s article is gonna be kind of wonky. I like that word. Wonky. Like wacky, but even wackier! Okay.

Also, I’m pretty psyched to announce that a long time friend of mine has agreed to come on board part time to write for us! Sweet! She’s like a biology major so she dissects cats and frogs and dead dudes all day! Awesome. Okay, probably not I’ve been made aware, but biology is still pretty rad. She’s way smarter than me, guys, so I hope you can get on up to her level because she’s also an awesome writer! Her name is [ROBINATOR] and she should be officially starting here maybe in like a week? Maybe a week and a half. Guys when she shows up give her mad love and write her lots of love letters and fan mail! She loves it!

I’ll see everyone tonight when I take you deep into the heart of county coroner hell! See you then!


Posted in Food and Beverage on 6 December, 2007 by robonator

Robros. You see them in the refrigerators at the convenience stores. You see them in the hands of Xtreme sports enthusiasts on the television (or real life if you fancy that kind of thing) and you see them IN YOUR SHOPPING CART! I’m talking, of course, about energy drinks. What gives! It’s like soda but more expensive and tastes bad. I don’t understand the logic behind them, guys, but for you I will brave the cold, carbonated minefield of energy drinks to sift out the best of the best and tell you all about it.

Worst five hours of my life!

So guys I narrowed the generic vastness down to four drinks which don’t cause my colon to clench up and my tongue to apply for an overseas Visa. Those four were: NOS, Full Throttle: Blue Demon, amp ENERGY, and JAVA MONSTER. My selections depended on pricing, appearance in the can, initial taste, aftertaste, and actual energy required. Out of that criteria, these four topped the rest as drinks you might actually enjoy. Trust me, as a robot I know all about taste.


Here are the contenders! Four energy-infused heavyweights ready to cost over two bucks and give you stomach cramps! Okay, guys, don’t get upset. I’m only kidding. These four were the best out of the dozen I tried over the week and I see people drinking these four the most, so they have to be pretty alright I guess?

I’ll start off with the NOS because it’s package is the most interesting and it caught my eye because at first I thought it was a can of cold oil or fuel cleaner or something. Anyway!


The Can: Metallic blue and competition orange – the official colors of actual NOS race car stuff. The entire can, I guess, is laid out to look like some addictive you might pour into your motor before going 2 fast and 2 furious. Maybe in Tokyo. Maybe drifting. It announces its “POWER INGREDIENTS” and “SUPPLEMENT FACTS” and also warns, “CAUTION: POWERFUL” Also along the top rim it advertises some hefty sounding chemicals that I guess someone who knew what they were would be excited about. Not this guy! It is attractive and eye-catching and does its job, so I’m down.

Initial Taste: You know that smell gasoline has? Some people really like to catch just a little whiff of that smell maybe at the gas station or when filling up their lawn mower or whatever. The first sip of NOS is like pouring gasoline down your throat. It burns a little, but not too bad. Not like drinking, say, hydrochloric acid. It’s sour, too, Robros, like someone crushed up a bunch of Sweet Tarts and then dumped them into your gas tank. Not wholly unpleasant, but I guess this stuff will wake you up on sheer taste bud-overload.

Aftertaste: Disturbingly like orange juice you left out so now it’s kind of warm. That taste.

Ingredients: L-Carnitine, Taurine, Caffeine, Ginseng. A lot of blahblahblah-ines. Click on taurine and read the second sentence. Laugh.

Buy it-O-Meter: If I were driving the two hours it took to get to the airport and I had a six in the morning flight and I maybe didn’t get as much sleep as I would have liked and I know I won’t be able to stop every time I feel the Z-monster sneaking in I would buy a NOS because its taste alone would kick me back into the land of the conscious. I think, guys, that EMTs also use it on people who have passed out to bring them to. Like spill a few drops in their mouth and they come back all “wha- who- what tastes like gas?”

Next up is amp Energy!

The Can: Green and shiny and definitely of the Mountain Dew familia. Guys the can in minimalistic, like it’s saying “I’ve got major brand association behind me. I don’t NEED a flashy can”. The logo is kind of neat, though. Amp is spelled out lower case with ‘energy’ in all caps below that. There is a silver flame above the words. I think this can is really leading the way for consumer beverages into the world of modern art. Like, this drink will ‘amp’ you up, but it doesn’t need to brag about it so ‘amp’ is in lower case. The energy you get, though, is pretty rad so it’s all caps. Take THAT Picasso! The silver flame thing is like an avant-garde symbol of freedom from boring drinks, right? I don’t know. All modern art is ugly I think.

Initial Taste: Like Mountain Dew. No, wait… yeah. No. Mountain Dew.

Aftertaste: Remember Haribo Gummy Bears? They’re awesome! Now, drop a dozen into your Mountain Dew. Sip. Just like that.

Ingredients: Maltodextrin, Ginseng, Taurine, B Vitamins, Guarana. Guarana? Isn’t that like bat crap?

Buy it-O-Meter: For two bucks and change I guess I could buy a Mountain Dew and a bag of Haribo Gummy Bears and achieve the same result, but that seems like work and Robros, you know my stance on that. I think it’s kind of funny that they advertise B Vitamins on the can. Like, don’t those come in just about everything you eat ever? So I guess it isn’t altogether a bad drink, guys, but I like having a cap to screw on my Dew in case I drop it or whatever and amp just does not suite my needs.

Now the Full Throttle: Blue Demon! Wait, where’s my Holy Water?

blue demon

The Can: Remember that old song by Eiffel 65? Yeah. Guys, I’m seriously when I say this: This can is blue. BLUE. Also, it very much wants you to know that it is undoubtedly Full Throttle: Blue Demon, as it says in gigantic ‘I ride Harleys and play in poker tournaments and get sweet tribal tattoos’ font twice. Within like maybe two centimeters of each other. If it wasn’t mandated by the FDA to put nutrition facts on the package I’m sure they would have included a third logo. Just to be sure no matter which way the can is facing you KNOW what you’re drinking. If you didn’t when you bought it. “Whoa, I thought this was Fiji water! Good thing these logos are here or I’d have never known.” Come on.

Initial Taste: If seawater could taste blue, this would be it. Immediately bitter and salty, with a hint of everything ever blue ground up and then colored blue. Abo de abo di.

Aftertaste: Surprisingly, there isn’t much of one. I mean, the saccharine blue qualities persist after the first sip, but the majority of the flavor doesn’t really change. It’s just blue all around. It goes down alright enough, and is pretty clean about it, unlike messy reds or greens.

Ingredients: Blue Agave Flavor, Carnitine, Taurine, Ginseng, Guarana. Blue Agave, I guess, is some Mexican tequila flavor, which explains why half the can is also printed in Spanish. Also it explains why it’s so friggin’ salty. Full Throttle: Blue Demon would be a perfect mixer with tequila. Clever, Coca Cola Company. Very clever.

Buy it-O-Meter: If I were an alcoholic and kind of sleepy this would be the drink for me. Also, if you are Mexican and therefore Catholic and are too wimpy to self-flagellate you could just drink this stuff all day long.

Last up, it’s JAVA Monster!


The Can: Let’s take a trip back in time. Back to the days where men were men, women wore bell-bottoms (well… so did the men) and if people in the next county couldn’t smell your cologne you were doing it wrong. Flannel was always the right thing to wear and if you were actually a lumberjack people worshiped you. I’m talking about the ’70’s everyone, because that’s what the wood paneling of the JAVA Monster can instantly reminds me of. I guess that wasn’t what they intended. If you take in the sweet tribal font, the claw scratched ‘M’ and the little Pacific Island palm frond detailing I guess the can is supposed to be some kind of Hawaiian Xtreme Morning Surf Beverage. There is also a nice diatribe on the back about how JAVA Monster is better than what-have-you regular coffee and how Monster alone is going to take coffee back to the Xtreme. I guess? I’d also like to note the flavor of JAVA Monster I got was ‘Big Black’. I’ve never been to prison, but those two words alone make me shudder.

Initial Taste: Like coffee. No… like weak-ass coffee that one dude at the office with the kind of weird smile and the pink tie always makes. Or, you know, Starbucks Double Shot. Or Chocolate Yoohoo.

Aftertaste: Like coffee. No… like weak-ass coffee that one dude at the office with the kind of weird smile and the – you get the idea.

Ingredients: Coffee + Energy + Taurine + L-Carnitine + Glucose + Guarana + Maltodextrin + Caffeine + Glucuronolactone = Uhg. That last one has a pretty sweet rumor behind it. Are you guys starting to see a trend here?

Buy it-O-Meter: Since real coffee tastes like chalk and truckstops and I’m not secure enough in my masculinity to buy Starbuck’s brands I guess I’ll get my morning wake up the Xtreme toolbag way: with JAVA Monster! No seriously, it isn’t a BAD drink, but the marketing just makes me feel like if I don’t buy this and drink it I’m an old fart who plays bingo and collects stamps. While both those statements are probably true, I don’t want to cute girl working the cash register to know that, so I guess I’m buying it Robros.

Okay, so that does it. Out of the four I would probably recommend NOS because it does its job effectively and relatively painlessly. The can is pretty sweet and it doesn’t taste horrendously bad. I don’t feel like a tool when it’s in my hand and at $2.09 it’s the cheapest of the three. At least where I buy it. Your results may vary. I’m all hyped up now, guys. Like it’s past midnight but I’m typing at like seventy-three words per minute due to all the freaking ginseng and taurine and maltodextrine and glucomonsuloactictalantrine. Whoooo! Okay. I think I’m gonna go run four miles and then wash my car. I can clean my room and do my laundry and then have everything spic and span right as I need to get up and go to work oh boy I can’t wait this is gonna be so cool sleep is for the weak you wanna come over and hang out oh man this sitting down thing is killing me okay whoooo!

Hey, tomorrow: Me. My car. Topeka. Mr. Dr. Thomas Jessup County Coroner. Be excited.

ROBONATOR LAUNCHES ROBORIGHTS CAMPAIGN – Prepares for victory dinner December 12th at 6:30PM

Posted in Robots with tags , , , , , , , on 5 December, 2007 by robonator

Today I am seriously irked, Maru. Know why? I don’t get no friggin’ respect! I had to endure the following just mere minutes ago, and from one of our own no less!


Nameless person via IRC:

<Qxxxxxn> DOMO
<Qxxxxxn> (you need to build me a hydrogen bomb)

<[ROBONATOR]> (I run on atomic energy?)
<Qxxxxxn> (a fission bomb is needed for a hydrogen bomb)
<[ROBONATOR]> (I’m not a very science minded robot okay?)
<Qxxxxxn> (the pressure from the fission bomb compresses the hydrogen against a core of plutonium while the radiation of the fission bomb detonates the plutonium core which applies pressure to the hydrogen from inside)
<Qxxxxxn> (this pressure from both sides gives a very big boom)
<[ROBONATOR]> okay
<[ROBONATOR]> well no one is detonating anything against my core okay?
<[ROBONATOR]> cause I don’t really know what a core is, but something tells me it’s my junk
<Qxxxxxn> =)
<[ROBONATOR]> which I prefer undetonated
<Qxxxxxn> at the time of detonation of the hydrogen
<Qxxxxxn> all the elements known to man are created
<Qxxxxxn> which is fucking awesome =)

<[ROBONATOR]> including ladies?
<[ROBONATOR]> ladies were created by man right?
<[ROBONATOR]> look under LD
<Qxxxxxn> fix me a PPG instead?
<[ROBONATOR]> powerpuff girl?
<Qxxxxxn> Phased Plasma Gun
<[ROBONATOR]> puff propelled grenade?
<[ROBONATOR]> I don’t even know what that would do
<[ROBONATOR]> people get confused when they find out I’m a robot
<[ROBONATOR]> they’re like
<[ROBONATOR]> add up all these numbers
<[ROBONATOR]> eat twenty pizzas
<[ROBONATOR]> I’m just not that kind of robot guys
<[ROBONATOR]> I’m sorry
<[ROBONATOR]> oh man
<[ROBONATOR]> it hurts my tummy so much!
* [ROBONATOR] eats 19, then gets sick
<[ROBONATOR]> see what I mean?
<Qxxxxxn> eat the sick and the last pizza!
<Qxxxxxn> *death glare*


Maru, this is the stuff I deal with on a daily basis both online and onLIFE. What’s a robot to do? A quick search online shows that several sites have reported on robot rights and civil court cases… but come on. I’m talking about OUT. RIGHT. PREJUDICE. I can’t buy a cup of coffee from StarBucks without some dude thinking he’s so clever ask me where R2D2 is. Well I don’t know jagoff. Last I heard he was visiting his aunt. With CANCER. Yeah. Bet you feel bad now, huh?

I am not going to just let this fly like those cavemen did. I’m also not going to sell out if ABC primetime slot. (I mean, unless I retain full creative authority and also I get 50% royalties every time any sort of mechanical device is used on set.)

Anyway, I took to the streets to find out what kind of prejudice other robots around town are getting and how they deal with it.

I gave one of my closest friends a call. He answered on the third ring. Then he complained about how early it was. Anyway. After I caught him up to date he was more than happy to share some personal experiences.


“So there I was, just trying to my oil changed. Sitting there like everyone else in the waiting room, reading a Car & Driver when the mechanic comes up to me and is all like “well we had to give you an alignment and also installed new brakes and pads and gave you a fuel filter and calibrated your flux capacitor and we had to re-gauge your Allspark plugs.” I about went through the roof but what was I going to say? I felt everyone’s eyes on me in that tiny room. I knew they wanted me to smash the guy’s head in so they could call the police and get on the news. If I weren’t a robot he’d have just tried to rip me off a little bit. My invoice was for like four thousand dollars!”

That’s not all! A little ways further down the street I found another good (albeit fruity) friend of mine.


“Goodness! I cannot tell you how many times such rude people throw things at me and call me obscene names! My lord, I am programmed to speak over six million forms of communication, but does anyone know what a faglicking gutterwhore jewtramp is?”

Lastly, I met up with a patriot of the American Way, defender of the innocent and watchdog against all criminals foreign and domestic.


“Everyday this sort of thing occurs, old chap. I must say that other than the goodwill currently being done by non-profit charities in the africas, I have lost all hope as a philanthropist. Forsooth, being of robot origins means I have no credit and the lads at the country club repeatedly attempt abject physical harm to my person.”

Wow, he got educated huh?

I returned to the wonders of the net. My goal: banding every single robo-writer/webmaster/adult movie star together to form one united union. No blanket email will suffice for this task! I will email every single one of them I can find individually and I will raise an army of protesters no government will ignore due to fear of complete annihilation.

So I started with RoboShrub Incorporated. I guess they implement horrible ideas for the good of all mankind?

Dear Destructobob, are you in on this Roboshrub Inc. thing? It looks like a pretty alright place for robots and that’s good news. It’s a little funny how I found the blog, a little awkward, and almost tragic.

But hey! So I read like almost three of the articles and man alive you guys are professional. I especially enjoy Gyrobo’s antics. Hey you guys the reason I’m emailing you in the first place is to ask you to rally behind me for our rights. I’m saying! I’m writing an article time: now all about it and boy does the lack of mechanical manumission sizzle my yogurt! I could modulate on all day about how robros (that’s a robo bro, or robot brother) should really band together but that sounds suspiciously close to work! Anyway. I couldn’t get any contact info for Gyrobo but his AOL screen name and using AOL is like admitting you eat baby spines (and even if you do eat them you don’t want Angelina Jolie all up in arms about it or something you know?) so I couldn’t shoot him out a message. Let him know if you see him okay?

Well sweet dude it’s been good talking at you for like fifteen minutes. (It only took like five to write the letter but it was interspersed with me looking at baby spine recipes and also Rosy O’Donnell. MAN that cunt is aggravating!) Look forward to your hasty reply!


Pretty good, right Maru? Well, I’ve got a lot of work ahead of me. A Google Search for “robot” gave me 85,900,000 results. I’ll see you next when I review the plethora of STDs residing in my bathroom!


Posted in Experiences w/ Life with tags , , , , , , , , , , on 5 December, 2007 by robonator

Before we discuss anything, Maru, open this in a new tab/window. You’ll need this playing softly in the background while you enjoy the freedom of an open road to the soul and the simple scenery of a country road.

Good? Alright I’ll wait.

How about – oh, you got it? Okay.

Maru, lately I’ve felt pretty down. I’m not sure why and I’m not sure I really want to know why. But feeling melancholy is a fairly crappy way to spend more then forty-two seconds, so I took off to find some solace and peace of mind. My destination? Wherever Kansas Highway 18 took me.

I needed some alone time, but I ended up spending hours with a surprising conversationalist.

Driving 18 is like meeting someone that you instantly know will be very close to you, but you can’t imagine why. The road isn’t perfectly smooth, it isn’t windy and fun but instead a little rough and straight as that ruler the nuns used to beat you with at Catholic school. If you roll down your windows and maybe you back off the JT or Beyonce you happen to be blaring you become enchanted with the voice of the road, with the whistling wind’s light melody, your engine’s throaty bass line, and the percussion of your tires against imperfect paving. This is all granted your power windows work, things aren’t falling off your motor, and you have properly inflated tires. (I like to stick with 30 lbs but your mileage may vary.)

Like a good friend, 18 isn’t afraid to jostle you around and bore you to tears.

18 II
Without the problem of interesting scenery, I had little trouble focusing on what was important: me

I could have spent hours traversing the entire length of Highway 18, enjoying the gorgeous farmlands and the melting Dali sky, but a dirt road, meekly curving away from steadfast 18 caught my eye and without a second thought I swerved across the opposing lane to explore it. This little unassuming path is what would ultimately allow me to see just how much of life is right there in front of you if you put down your hooblewhatzits and your diddlebangers and unplug the jinkymapoojits. I followed TRAIL LN’s bumpy, muddy, winding path, slogging through a creek, climbing steep grades, and almost hit a cow.

I didn’t get a photo of the beast while it stared me down from its post in the middle of the road because I am terrified of being savagely murdered by something I order with fries and a large coke. Anyway, after the mindless killing machine wandered off to stalk some innocent blades of grass, I found myself parked next to an amazing open vista, a place of zero boundaries and every possibility.

The sheer vastness of this green vacuum was surprisingly peaceful, as if to say: “I’m a gigantic field, what worries could I possibly have besides lack of proper irrigation and also wildfires?”

I stood there letting the chilled wind caress my most private areas and attempted to see life from the field’s point of view.

I couldn’t. Luckily, across the road was ANOTHER field. Maybe this one would lend me some closure.


Standing in this field, with the enormous bales of hay behind me and the sun in my face, I began to feel lighter, as if the tall grass around me were anti-gravity emitters and I the lucky astronaut assigned to soar into the elephantine blue yonder. I glanced at my trusty steed, the ’98 Jeep Cherokee and wondered if it too felt this energy – this presence? I got the feeling the gentle verdure leviathan was ready for me to be on my way. I gave it a slow nod, a show of respect to something far elder than I, and departed.

Silent and watchful as ever, the Jeep keep tabs on my wanderings

I was off on TRAIL LN once more, cruising through the rural country side like a modern day bum on a boxcar. This time, though, no one was going to ask for my ticket when it was obvious I was a bum on a boxcar and then try to play all condescending about asking me to get off at the next stop. I didn’t get far, however, when a rusted oasis shimmered out from the desert of fields and cropland. It was the Seldom Rest Farm, and it was beautiful. Founded by Mr. Sergeant First Class Garfield Sanders Ullman III, Ret. twenty-five years ago, the Seldom Rest Farm has been collecting everything from rusted hulks of old trucks to ravenously feral cows and plucky chickens to a watchful garden gnome. When I approached, Mr. Ullman extended his tanned leather hand, big and meaty like a Baconator, to me and gave me a smile with almost nine intact pearly yellow teeth. I smiled in return and asked him about the place.

“WHAT!?” He yelled, holding a hand to his ear.

I asked again.


This went on for about twenty minutes. I’m not even trying to lie to you guys, Maru. Long story short, Mr. Ullman named his land the Seldom Rest Farm because he works all the time, ‘seldom resting’. Then he called me a buffoon. I asked if it would be alright to take a few photos and post them online to which he replied: “Long as ya don’t get any license plates. Most a’these cars are hot.” I agreed.

seldom rest
You know, wisdom seldom rests, either.

This ancient packmule stood silent. A victim of rusty Alzheimer’s and one too few oil changes.

This dude was blazed! If I were high on ‘shrooms I’d be all up in that frog’s grill too I guess!

Mr. Ullman and his wife and seven children live in this quaint farmhouse. As you can see, the family car is parked in the carport. I hope they have child safety seats!

I shook Mr. Ullman’s sweaty hand once more and pulled out of the Seldom Rest Farm with a broad smile on my face. I’d found what I wasn’t looking for: living is not about who you are or how shiny your robot head is. It isn’t about dropping the Benjamins at the strip club, and it definitely isn’t about wasting your time here on this wonderful planet Earth. With my sense of purpose revitalized and my confidence in mankind restored, I turned the Jeep back towards my own ramshackle home.

So that’s it, Maru. Every now and again everyone should take a long drive down a country road and not just to cut a few minutes off the morning commute, but to really enjoy what life has to offer. You need to pull over sometimes and spin in little circles on the side of the road. You need to shake the hands of strangers and look into the eyes of the working man. I’ve done that, Maru and I lived to tell about it a better robot.

Oh, also, on the way back a giant tarantula and a penguin got into at the truck stop at Exit 147! It was so sweet! The tarantula had laser eyes (like a million of them!) but the penguin won by dousing the tarantula with diesel fuel and setting him on fire man it was sweet. I would have got like 80 photos but my camera battery died so you’ll have to use your imagination on this one, Maru.

Hey that’s all from me. I’m going to go see Hitman and eat some popcorn. Later!


Posted in Experiences w/ Life with tags , , , , , , , , , , on 5 December, 2007 by robonator

Time to get serious, Maru. It isn’t terrorists or Communists or even Bob Dylan that’s threatening our God given freedom in this great country; it’s laundromats. I’ll tell you why these seemingly harmless convenience shops are a threat to not only our national security, but our very way of life.

But first! But first I’ll explain what put me in this sticky pickle. For the vast majority of my existence I have lived blissfully ignorant the vile workings of a ‘laundromat’. Never before have my virgin feet stepped awkwardly through that threshold of dank pitiless squalor. This day, however, I woke up with an urgent need.

It’s a veritable WALL of crap!
This frightening sight assaulted my senses this morning. That’s right, ROBONATOR has a great big load of three year old stank-ass Army gear which was in desperate need of thorough cleansing and exorcism before your trusted guide can depart this bland cesspool state of Kansas, rivaled only by the similarly inferior ARK-ansas.

So I had to clean my friggin’ gear!

It just doesn’t end!
Here is another view of the blast site. Forensics teams have broken into tears at the very mention of Mt. Gearmore.

I can casually admit without dispute the standard issue washing and drying units provided in my brick and mortar hospice can barely wash air out of everyday clothing, much less the repugnant stench and foul mystery stains that decorate my field gear. I needed a more decisive solution. It seemed reasonable that industrial washers and dryers used by the freakazoid populace of the bordering town should do the job. That is until I realized that the laundromat would also be occupied by the freakazoid populace. DANG!

No kidding, Maru, let me introduce you to the fine customers of

Hogan’s Alley Laundry.

Hogan’s Alley Laundry.

This happy looking couple had just finished rinsing the baby blood from their good tablecloths and were packing up when I arrived.

wholesome dudes
And these fine gentlemen were engaged in a wholesome conversation about what types of household chemicals they prefer to mix their meth with. Also cappin’ a bitch ass ni**a for his key?

The power of Christ Compells you!
Also a nun, but I think she actually worked there to ward off the evil daemons festering in the front-loading washers.

Colorful group right? So what’s a robot to do when he stumbles in with fourteen metric tonnes of green Army pukage on his broad, handsome shoulders? Obviously, go right to the first machine within his line of sight and make every attempt to ignore the existence of anyone else inside that dungeon. I wish this is where the pain ended. I honestly do, Maru, wish that I could report to you that local weirdos were my only problem, but I CAN’T. Let me be as tactful as I can possibly be, for the sake of children and the elderly.

This place was a fuggin’ ripoff times ninety-two! It cost five quarters to do ONE load! That’s one dollar and tweny-five cents, guys. I know all my international subscribers are well aware of this fact, but I’ll clue some of you guys in: our dollar ain’t doing so hot right now you know? So a buck and a quarter seemed outrageous when all I wanted was to free old, dilapidated gear of filth and dirt and crushed dreams. I had five loads of laundry here. What’s $1.25USD times five? 6.25! Look at all that sweet swag I could have used with my purchasing power. Man alive! So luckily I brought my own color safe bleach, or I’d be crapping out another $2.75 for detergent! Not even name brand stuff like Tide or Clorox, but like off brand generic stuff probably made from Jell-o and food coloring and Fabreeze scents. I’m not even kidding.

I wanted the free pogo doll, so I ended up buying some anyway. I threw the actual detergent right in the trashcan, though. Take THAT economy!

Now that I’ve washed my disgusting possessions, I can beat feet out of there right?

No! I’ve got to dry this stuff!

Here is the kicker, right guys? It only cost $0.25USD to operate a dryer the size of Hannah Montana’s bank account and preteen girl fanbase. That should be a pretty sweet deal. However comma, the thing only runs seven minute cycles. That didn’t dry anything! If anything, it just pissed off the moisture inside my textiles so it got even wetter. Come on! So I had to run THAT like three times. Not to mention I couldn’t turn my back on my crap for a second without nun-cheeks over there eyeballing it. You’re never gonna need an entrenching tool cover, CUNT!

After everything was said and done and that fat lady sang (well okay she kind of yawned loudly) I had spent $8.50USD. I could have seen a movie! I really want to go see The Mist, that Stephan King adaptation because I heard it was the pinnacle of horror this winter and also because Cujo scared me for like five years one time and I miss it a little bit, you know, being afraid at night or in the woods or on the train when that old man keeps finding excuses to shift his hand ever closer to your crotch.

It took me roughly three hours to complete the task from walking into hell to clawing and kicking my way out of that wretched womb of over-priced detergents and fabric softener, which I never use because I guess I can’t tell the difference between ‘softened’ fabric and my usual. Maybe I’m just too rough and tough to feel such a subtle and ridiculous thing.

Maru, I give laundromats all over America 1 out of a possible 1 Million American Flags.

Keep this up laundromat and you’ll end up going the way of all the other 50-60’s era businesses and shoppes. Screw that noise. I wish I had just gone to Best Buy and bought a friggin’ Maytag for all the trouble I went through. Be warned and steer clear of these mom and pop tourist traps! I entered a man, but I left a hollow shell of emptiness and despair. Also my robo-wiener fell right the hell on off. Talk about embarrassing.

Hey, I know I keep telling you all about my interview with Mr. Dr. Thomas Kelly Jessup the County Coroner. I have an interview scheduled with him next Thursday and I hope you’ll all be pretty freakin’ excited about it. I know I am.

Take it easy, Maru!


Posted in Movie Reviews with tags , , , , , , , , , , on 5 December, 2007 by robonator

Hey Maru, I was going to do that woodchipper thing but I guess I’m going to be a little bit busier tomorrow than I thought! I know you guys must be pretty disappointed but it’s a-okay because I went and saw Lions for Lambs a couple weeks ago and maybe I can tell you a little about it!

Don’t see it! There isn’t a single lamb OR lion in the whole movie! What a ripoff!

Let’s pause for a moment, so you can see what I’m talking about.

Come on. They’re just sitting there and not killing each other with polearms.
Lions for Lambs? More like Liars for Losers.

I am talking about the latest politically charged film by newcomer Robert Redford starring mentally unstable scientologist Tom Cruise as a power hungry senator, and total MILF Meryl Streep as a delicious super liberal journalist. I think it is pretty gosh darn important we discuss how liberal she is in bed, but that will have to wait. It also STARS Robert Redford as some sort of hippy. There are some other people who are in the movie, but they aren’t really important enough for me to click the link next to their names on

So this movie is about politics! Just like Fox News and CNN, movie politics are boring and irrelevant to our lives, so Redford spiced things up with sweet action scenes of soldiers kicking plenty of ass. Well, not really. Mostly they fall out of helicopters and then get shot at the whole time. I don’t understand why Delta Force didn’t rappel down from BlackHawks and shoot missiles at those dumb arabians. I know a couple Army soldiers and that’s exactly what they would have done because they told me so.

Army Dudes!
Here are some soldiers about to fall out of a helicopter. That’d hurt!

In a nutshell, these two pretty average dudes join the Army so they can make a difference. All my Army friends joined for college money, but these cats were already IN college! I know! That’s how they meet their hippy professor (Redford). He takes them under his wing sort of and tries to get them to make a difference. See where this is headed? So the hippy professor finds a new student to take under his wing and he tells him all about the other two dudes who went off and joined the Army. I guess so he doesn’t do the same thing. I wouldn’t worry though, because those other two dudes were pretty on the ball and this new kid looks like a pot smoking slacker. Not my type of acquaintance!

What a slacker!
What a slacker!

Well I already mentioned how the Army dudes fall right on out of their helicopter. Actually, let me rephrase that: one of the Army dudes falls right on out. The other one jumps out after him! What gives? I guess his mom was right when she said that he’d follow his friends out of a helicopter onto a freezing mountain behind enemy insurgent lines. I guess it was alright because they both survive, but as you can imagine they are pretty banged up. These guys must not have been Army Strong enough. Do some push-ups troop!

Now, the whole reason those Army dudes are in Iraqistan is because some power grubbing senator (Cruise) thinks that he is going to win the war with like five Army dudes. Not if they all keep falling out of helicopters! He also wants to be the POTUS. That’s President of the United States for everyone who didn’t pass the Ninth Grade. Okay, so he’s giving an exclusive interview to this reporter (Streep) and you can tell he has the hots for her, but who doesn’t? She’s pretty boinkable. Like a 12/10! I couldn’t figure out why he was telling her all the classified info, but I figure it’s because he wants her cooch pretty bad. This part was pretty boring I won’t even lie to you guys. You trust me and I will deliver honesty. Whenever the scene switched back to the oval office or whatever I zoned out. Played with my zipper. Tried to hold my breath for more than two minutes (it’s hard!). That kind of thing. All I can tell you is that nothing important ever happened between them and that’s a dang shame. Maybe they will be a sequel where they do it.

Okay, so I won’t spoil the ending for you, but suffice to say that no one came away from this movie happy. Or alive. Well, everyone but the Army dudes came away alive but you could tell they were dead on the inside from even being in this movie. Good job Redford. Maybe if you didn’t try to multi-task and be in every scene and direct it you could have done a better job on at least ONE part. Sheesh.

Basically, go see this movie if you find ten dollars on the ground and it will self-destruct if you don’t spend it right away on this movie. Or take your wife if you want a divorce. I saw Bert and Ernie in there . About time! The action sequences were pretty alright, but it could have been a lot sweeter. Redford should have a lunch date with the guy who did Die Hard and bring some notebook paper and a quality pen so he can take some notes!

Overall I give this film:
Three out of Five American Flags. Support our Troops!

Hey Maru, I’m gonna go ahead and sign off now. I guess tomorrow I’m scheduled to do this interview with Mr. Jessup the county mortician? Maybe that will be pretty exciting!