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Ten thousand years of Roboshrub.

Fangs for the memories.

In today’s state, Roboshrub Incorporated is an entity entirely devoted
to the execution of what normal people would refer to as “bad ideas.”

It was the creator’s original idea that all concepts, whether
useful or not, contribute to the global subconscious level of progress
for the human race. Therefore, we contend that no idea is an unfit
idea, and vow to act on each and every one of them.

Roboshrub Inc.
Public Communications Department

Changes may not fully take effect until you reload the page.

For your insolence, I condemn you to...

Suffer the Fate of a Thousand Bees!
(Before they go extinct)

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Balancing the Scales

As anyone here would probably know, President Bush just nominated Samuel Alito to the Supreme Court. You may wonder why anyone would care about this. I can tell you exactly why— the stability of the court's future is in question.

Imagine you're in a room with eight other people, and you're all talking about pets. Two of the eight agree with you that cats are the best animal to walk on four legs, three others are dog people, and the remaining three don't even own pets. With so many different positions, how is it possible to decide which is the best animal to have as a pet? Simple. Your side presents your opinions, your opponents present their opinion, and then the people with no particular opinion work with both sides to reach a compromise. And the end result is that pot-bellied pigs is determined to be the best pet.

Neither side got what they originally wanted, but both sides got the satisfaction of knowing their opponents also lost. Why can't the Supreme Court be that way? Instead of having three liberals, three conservatives, and three moderates, we've got at the very least one swing vote. When people stop making compromises, extreme elements start setting in. That isn't conducive to a consensual level-headed judiciary. After all, what's the point of watching a movie when you know the ending?

And that's my Halloween rant.


All is Lost.

"If we do not succeed, we run the risk of failure!"
-Former High Lord Executioner, Gyrobo

You may or may not realize how important relations with the Frozen Lower Blogosphere are to Roboshrub Incorporated. Just in case, I'll inform you: IT'S DAMN IMPORTANT. RSI is an organization based on the extrapolation of good ideas from bad ones through a process we call "imadnization." Where do bad ideas come from? Blogs. The most easily discardable float to the bottom. Therefore, the depths of the Blogosphere contain the highest level of salvagable resources. Having Gyrobo as High Lord Executioner was extremely convenient, due to his lack of adherence to United Blogging Society mandates about extraction levels allowable. But Evil Bob Dole adheres to these widely-accepted standards, which as an outrage and an affront to all we hold dear.

Imadnization is a taxing process, but a rewarding one for the human and robot races. Without continued cooperation between Roboshrub Incorporated and the Frozen Lower Blogosphere, the world may have to move on without ant-powered sentient computers and bee-frog chimeras. The populace in general may never know the wonders of the nuclear umbrella, or the omelette-flavored lollipop. And if that happens, chaos theory comes into play- billions of thoughts will never be thought. The fate of the world literally rested upon this election.

And we blew it.

We really blew it.

Evil Bob Dole won, despite the best efforts of the Robot constituency. And now, our world is doomed to mediocrity; everything that passes from here on is just a shade of what might have been.

Reporting for, perhaps, the last time,
Roboshrub Incorporated

P.S.: Clearance Sale this weekend! Everything must go!

Political Dilema!

Evil Bob Dole has pulled ahead in the polls, overtaking my right, honourable friend Gyrobo and dashing my chances at Parliament. I have no idea how it happened... I suspect foul play.

I have a backup idea, though. It worked for Al Gore. Almost.


Moment of Truth

It's election day! High-tail it over to the Frozen Lower Blogosphere and cast your vote!
So far, only myself and one of the candidates have voted. This shows an increase in democratic apathy- which is a wonderful thing. Any voter's influence over the election is increased due to the laziness of most people.

Anyway, following this election I'll begin my campaign for the Prime Ministry of the Frozen Lower Blogosphere. You may be saying, "Don't you need to have a majority in parliament to do that?" I do. But here is my brilliant plan- I'm going to use psychic ghosts of former leaders to fill up parliament.

From there it's top-hats, cheerios and "my right honourable friend" all the way!

Now go vote!


Public Service Announcement

Evil Bob Dole has escaped his confinement in the Frozen Lower Blogosphere. We here at Roboshrub Incorporated are working 24 hours a day and at LEAST five days a week to bring him down and return him to a facility away from the public. Hopefully this will be accomplished before he can deal much damage to our well-fabricated and comfortable society.

From his location, as of yet unknown, though he is suspected to be somewhere underground in the Frozen Lower Blogosphere, the E.B.D is lurking and plotting. High Lord Executioner Gyrobo has also devoted his efforts to nuetralizing this fiend before he causes any harm. However, the two have agreed to participate in a fair ELECTION, campaigning in the Frozen Lower Blogosphere.

There are three ways you can help us defeat this menace:
1) Support the Children of the Lower Blogosphere. It is the political party under which my Right, Honourable Friend Gyrobo shall combat the Evil Party. The campaign is just kicking off, so show your support in the form of donations and jibes/jeers towards the opposing party.
2) Keep safe. Stay away from windows and doors in both public places and at home. Also, avoid fire hydrants at all costs.
3) Report any information on the whereabouts of Evil Bob Dole here, or if you prefer confidentiality, at .

Remember that your safety is our topmost priority. These are hard times, but everything will be fine again soon.


The Day the Scones Fought Back- Chapter 3

Mark of the Scone

“Toastfist! Toastfist! Toastfist!” chanted the Scone army in unison. Their numbers grew each day. And now, with the Manwich of Destiny, victory was all but assured.

“Silence!” blared an inhuman voice from atop the gold-plated balcony which hung over the teeming masses. “Today we take back breakfast! Tomorrow- the Earth!”

Holding the Manwich above his crumbly head, the Scones' leader, General Toastfist, let out a victory howl. The others joined in, their bread-like voices blending together into a crispy cacophony.

Toastfist frowned. There was one man who could still stop him. One man who could thwart his plot to destroy humanity. “What are you doing right now, my nemesis”, muttered Toastfist in a murmur low enough that the troops wouldn't hear. “What are you thinking....”


“Senator Ninja! What in the Sam Hill were you thinking, Senator Ninja?!?”

“What? Huh?” bleated Senator Ninja, quickly turning his head from his nightly reports to face this intruder. He reached for his trusty blade, but stopped when he realized who had invaded his den of solitude.

“What are you doing here, deLame? Come back to steal a few lamps?” Senator Ninja sneered at the former House leader.

“Very funny, Nin-jerk. Come up with that on your own, did you?”

“What do you want deLay? I'm very busy,” said an exasperated Senator Ninja.

“I'm just here to ask how the investigation is going.”

“What investigation?”

“Aren't you investigating the mysterious death of Senator Bond?” asked deLay, his eyebrows arching ever so slightly. “I know if I was a Senator and one of my friends was killed-”

“Who said he was killed? I never released the details of Bond's death to anyone.”

“I know. And who gave you the authority to do that?! You can't just stick your nose where it doesn't belong.”

“Weren't you just indicted?” quipped Senator Ninja, his eyes glowing with amusement. deLay's eyes also glowed- but with anger and bitterness.

“I may have been indicted,” deLay barked with a lump in his throat. “But at least I have the good sense not to laugh at Donald Rumsfeld's avatar!” That made Senator Ninja's heart skip a beat.

“What do you know about Donald Rumsfeld?”

“What I know about Rumsfeld is none of your concern. All you need to know is this- Kit Bond was murdered. By the Scones.”

He waited a few minutes for that nugget of information to sink in, but Senator Ninja didn't respond.

“Ninja? Senator Ninja? Are you okay?”

Senator Ninja just sat there, staring into space. His eyes flashed, as if a repressed memory was fighting it's way to the surface.


“Here they come, Kit! Act natural.” whispered a twenty-something Dick Cheney.

The year was 1943, the place was Berlin, and the mission was...

“Is the Scone Transducer ready? We need to be able to morph in five, four, three...”

“Who's there?” demanded a young Scone lieutenant, pointing a pistol at the three outsiders. But they weren't outsiders at all. At least, they didn't look like they were.

Well, now we know the Scone armor works. Thought Dick Cheney, his human form cleverly disguised by the powerful device. To everyone but his two companions, Cheney had the appearance of a Scone.

“Citizens aren't allowed here. This is a restricted area,” droned the lieutenant, who had obviously said this to many people.

“I assure you, we're allowed to be here. Kit, show him our papers.”

“Kit? That name sounds almost huma- urk!” yelped the young Scone as the camouflaged visage of Kit Bond quickly reached up and snapped his neck stalk.

“I love my job!” laughed Kit, dragging the crusty carapace behind some garbage cans.

“By the time this is over, we'll be lucky to still be alive, Kit. Drop the routine.” barked Cheney.

“Dick, if you don't drop your routine, you're gonna end up getting a couple of heart attacks and ulcers,” scoffed Kit in his thick Missourian drawl. “Now let's go! I wanna take out Grainsom, and send the whole Scone army back where they came from!”

The third and most indistinct member of the gathering looked back and forth, and finally let out a laugh. “Easy there, Kit. You know that's not our mission. Now wipe those crumbs off your hands. We've got a war to win.”

“Okay. But if we do come up against Grainsom, you gotta let me get 'im.”

“Fine, fine, Grainsom is yours. Now let's get out of here before his buddies show up,” said Dick Cheney, pointing at the garbage cans.


“...caused me to loose my balance and fall in. Then my daddy reached in and-”

“Wha- huh- deLay?! What just happened?!” shouted Senator Ninja at a visibly shaken Tom deLay.

“What do mean 'What just happened'? You've been sitting there like a zombie for about an hour now.”

“How could I just be- wait. What are you still doing here? Going through my cabinets for something expensive, right? I know your kind, deLay. You'd steal the Lincoln Memorial if it didn't weigh a few tons.”

deLay's face became a combination of shock and disbelief. Then it turned ugly. “For your information, jerk, you went into some kind of a coma and I was trying to help you.”

“Wha- why didn't you call a doctor?!”

“I did. I got Bill Frist in here. He told me to keep talking to you. He's a genius.”

“And you're a moron! Get out of my office!”

“I don't have to stand here and be insulted by you!” bellowed an indignant Tom deLay. “You're just a second-rate Senator from... from... where are your from, anyway?! Are you even a real Senator?!”

“Get out!” screamed Senator Ninja at the top of his lungs, gesturing violently at the doorway.

“Fine. But before I go, I have one question for you.”

“What is it?!” roared Senator Ninja, anger burning through him.

“I just wanted to know... what do you know about S.R. 8723?”

Senator Ninja's rage turned to ice in his veins.

“What do you know about it?”

“Oh, nothing.” said deLay in an annoying singsong voice. “Just wanted to know what you know. Bye!”

Senator Ninja sat there in his office the rest of the night, contemplating what had transpired. Every possible scenario led to one inevitable answer: a conspiracy was afoot.

The Scones were on the march.


Blair Bludgeoned with Ballistic Baton in Unfortunate Marching-Band Incident; Michael Howard On Trial For Murder...

Thursday, October 20th, 2005- UK Prime Minister Tony Blair died under mysterious circumstances at 4:46 PM. In the middle of the New Labour Parade, the head of the party recieved a blow to the head from unknown origins. The twirlers were taken into custody for interrogation, and Blair died four hours after recieving the injury, baffling doctors. The PM had recieved only a minor concussion-- a lucky man he was, as most victims in similar accidents sustain trauma-related brain damage or even die.

How could the baton have been thrown by a twirler, when they all had their instruments on them when questioned? How did the PM die within mere hours of such a minor injury? These are the questions which the police force is currently seeking answers to. Michael Howard, Conservative Party Leader and Prime Minister of the Shadow Cabinet was taken in for questioning; authorities say that Howard had no alibi for between 4:00 and 5:00 PM, and several incriminated books were found inside his residence: "Baton Twirling For Dummies" and "Two Hundred Devil's Stick Routines."

In Michael Howard's defense, he had very little reason to assassinate Blair. The PM's support was waning and he didn't have much longer left in office; he would then be followed by a new New Labour representative or the Conservative Party would be elected into power. However, according to MP Alastair, "There was the banter. Who knows what Mikey would have done to stop Tony's back-sass? It aggravated him to be shown up with retort after retort."


Vacation... Or Death?!?

When someone doesn't post anything new to their blog, what does it mean? Are they bored, unable to think of anything to post? Did they completely forget they even had a blog, being so caught up in work? Or is it something far more sinister... could they have been hit by a rogue ice cream truck? When someone leaves the blogosphere, we don't know were they go. You could write something one day, get ready to write something else, and then die of a heart attack. And no one will know for sure. So here's my pledge: if I ever stop blogging for more than a week, assume I'm dead. It's the only way to be certain. Of course, I could just be on vacation...


Tasty Little Morsels


Mountain of Flies

Gyrobo's spirited tale of failing to overcome the elements reminded me of my own escapades in Yosemite Park, California. It is a land untouched by time, though it has been scoured by the RVs of modern culture. We had to follow safety precautions to avoid bear attacks and cook our own food over a primitive petrol-powered grill. Pitching tent in Touleme meadows at the age of perhaps eight was one of my first great adventures.

As it turned out, the second great adventure was that of finding the showers. Armed with only a map and a keen first-grade education, I tackled several miles of wilderness without adult supervision. Of course, my father knew where I was headed. He just didn't realize how mind-bogglingly far it was. It was Woodstock all over again; he panicked when I hadn't come back in an hour. Luckily, he found me along a major road by the general store about halfway along the trip. My father has never showered since (to my knowledge).

Of course, that's not the end of my story. We also went to climb a large and dome-shaped mountain. We didn't get very far. The thickest swarm of flies I have ever seen (or, in this case, NOT seen, as I couldn't see my hand in front of my face, and shortly thereafter that hand began to swat because my eyes had been hit with their abnormally large fly-bodies). I'm telling you, they were vicious. They bought. I mean, they bit. Both literally and figuratively speaking. Not only that, but my father and I, sly devils we were, were covered in head to tail in poisons to deter their attacks- but to no avail! Yosemite flies are immune to everything. They even have resistance to sound attacks!! NO ONE HAS RESISTANCE TO SOUND ATTACKS!

The funny thing about this post is, you'll all assume when I tell you that I've been to Cozumel, Isle Mujeres, Costa Rica, Yosemite, the Yucatan and Japan, you won't believe me. But it's true. Oh well, boy who cried lasers, and all that.


Taming the Elements

“We are always learning whether we are in a formal school setting or ‘out in the world’”, said a nonchalant Marion Judd one crisp morn. What she didn’t say is that the lessons we learn aren’t always obvious or expected. In fact, learning can be quite painful. I found this out explicitly all the way back when I was about twelve.

The sun was high in the sky, but it could barely be seen through the thick canopy provided by the trees. It was the summer of- wait, it wasn’t summer. It was fall. My sixth grade class went on a three day field trip to some state park. Caumsett. The name comes from the Matenecock Indian tribe, and means “place by a sharp rock”. The permission slip for the excursion warned the parents that we should all pack extra boots. I remember thinking to myself, “Why should I bring extra boots? That’s just stupid…” Little did I know how badly I would end up needing those boots.

It was a pretty routine field trip, what with the animals and star watching and such. Being pudgy and unenergetic, I never had a flair for all that “nature stuff”. Ultimately it was my hatred of nature that became my undoing. We went on one of those nature hike things, and as usual, I didn’t pay any attention to where we were or where we were going. It was all the same to me. Just another face in the crowd, just following the leader. Then something strange happened. One minute I’m trailing behind everyone, the next minute I’m falling. No, I didn’t fall off a cliff and spiral to my certain death. As soon as my brain began to register what happened I started calling for help; I had somehow jumped into what I can only describe as muddy quicksand. I was up to my knees in this muck, and I couldn’t pull my legs out of it. This was the worst thing that happened to me in my entire time in the public school system, even worse than the time I got stuck in a revolving door in eighth grade. My whole sixth grade class had to double back and my teacher had to pull me out. Unfortunately, the suction (Actually, there is no such thing as suction. The air acts on the vacuum giving the illusion of pull, when actually it is the air pushing against it. Physics rules!) of the mud pulled off both my shoes and I had to walk an indeterminate amount of mileage through the woods in my socks. Because I never bothered taking another pair of shoes, I had to use a pair from the lost and found, which actually looked worse than my waterlogged shoes probably looked right then.

The experience was grueling, but my brief, albeit momentous time at a state park has had a great impact on me. But there are some things that school just can’t teach you. Some things you have to learn by experience. Things like transmuting lead into gold.

Alchemists have theorized for centuries that it was possible to convert common elements into more valuable ones, such as gold. Despite being completely disproved by modern science, some alchemists (such as myself) believe that it is entirely possible to transmute the elements. Armed with only my wits and a $100,000 government grant, I set out to win acclaim and respect from the scientific community.

I began my research by creating a special element table similar in design to the periodic table, but with the elements listed alphabetically. I operated under the assumption that an element starting with an even numbered letter combined with an element starting with an odd numbered letter would produce gold. I started with the simple equation a = 1. Several months later, I realized that my method was flawed. The equation should have been a = 89, since in elemental terms, 89 is the number of protons in one atom of Actinium. Using this as a cipher, I quickly found that when combining Argon and Xenon – two of the most stable gases – the resulting compound was gold. Unfortunately, closer examination of the gold indicated that I’d only succeeded in creating Pyrite- fool’s gold. The secrets of transmutation had once again eluded my grasp!

My disheartening encounters with both the great outdoors and the cold, unfeeling world of science have taught me two very important things. Firstly, avoid national and state parks. They’re nothing but trouble. Secondly, there is no way to turn lead into gold. It can’t be done. And anyone who tries is a bigger fool than I was.


Tom deLay Indicted for Mass Hobo Grave

Adding to the legal troubles of the embattled former Majority Leader of the U.S. House, Tom deLay was arrested early yesterday morning after the bodies of nine hoboes were unearthed from a shallow grave outside of Sugarland, Texas.

State troopers who discovered the bodies initially suspected deLay. “It’s definitely his style, that’s for sure,” said one officer on the condition of anonymity. “We’ve been tracking deLay for years, and now that we have the bodies, I think we can finally put an end to the grizzly murders that have plagued Sugarland.”

Although the police don’t have any DNA evidence to tie deLay to the killings, a search warrant for his office turned up several blood-soaked bindles. And even more ominously, the following chat room transcript from deLay's personal computer was obtained under the Freedom of Information Act:

hoboHunter: d00d, tonite we feast!
D2h4x0r: lol
hoboHunter: no, i’m serious this time. i got 1 more!!!!111
D2h4x0r: dude
hoboHunter: what
D2h4x0r: you got a problem
hoboHunter: ther soulz are mine!!!!!

Karl Returns- With Music!

Yes, I've finally posted the new versions of the Karl animation! You can see them all here:
Without sound
With sound (Original)
With sound (80s style)

Karl the Sorcerer

Which version of the animation did you like best?

The one without sound.
The Original one.
The 80s style one.
I hated them both.
You should be committed.

Search The Internet


Rejoice! The Lord of Silt Reclaims His Throne!

The legendary Lord of Silt has chosen to voluntarily return from his epic, two month stint as Lord High Executioner of the Frozen Lower Blogosphere. My brutal rein will never be forgotten.

The System Is Down

Well, almost. A certain someone posted a certain animation here, and the bandwidth is already gone. In two days. I got to thinking: Why not for AND THEN THIS HAPPENED? The comic series the two of us made? It was far more random and absorbing than Karl's exploits, though I may say that they're a feat of creativity the world will look to in judgement until the end of its days...

The difference is obviously motion. Everyone likes motion. Especially the ladies.

Anyway, this makes me want to learn flash again. And by that I mean "Get someone else to do all the work for me while scripting flash animations."


A Picture is Worth a Thousand Deaths

Hope your birthday was totally cool. Probably wasn't though, since it rained the entire day. In case you weren't aware, I've released a new batch of Timages, including my much-hyped Karl animation, as well as a new literary masterpiece, "Ballad of the Open Thread".


This Post Guarenteed to Reduce Irksome Free Time

You may be thinking, if you exist, and I'm not a madman talking to himself through the magic funbox, that is, you may be thinking, assuming, of course, that you do in fact think, and that I am not the only sentient being in the universe, surrounded by robots, if I'm even sentient and don't just have the illusion of sentience, that is, in that case you may be thinking that this blog is just a series of ramblings and lies. You would be wrong, if I know what I'm talking about, which I believe I do, but that theory could easily be disproved in any of the previously mentioned situations, if I do know what I'm talking about, then you would be wrong. Assuming that you do, in fact, think that this, and by "this" I mean Roboshrub Incorporated, if you think that this is a serious of falsehoods conglomerated by some kind of lunatic who likes to ramble to anyone who will listen, that is.

In all reality, I am actually an average human being, taking for granted that the average human being is something like myself. Everything I write here is true to some extent. It may not be to a very palpable extent, but if you were a very small organism, such as an amoeba or bacteria, assuming that you aren't already, the tiny nugget of truth in my every word would be evident to you. I'm sorry if I have offended any monocellular lifeforms.

At any rate, tommorow is my birthday. And by that, I mean, it is the day I was cloned in a laboratory and then released into Jupiter's atmosphere to collect resources. In my gaseous infantile state it was difficult to manuever amongst more dense gasses, however, I brought back enough toast to last mankind an eternity.

Which is why I feel such great responsibility concerning the brekfalution that has plagued the past year. I did not implant the seeds of revolt, but I did create a backup army of billions. The road to hell really is paved with good intentions. And concrete, I guess.

Anyone who can make sense of the first two paragraphs has earned the right to challenge my leadership of Roboshrub Incorporated in combat.


Glacial Open Thread of the Bear

Adds ten to maximum damage, as well as 3-6 cold damage. Includes 22 level 5 stun charges. Increases attack rating (based on character level). Cold resist +25%.