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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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Product #8123-57r “Paperless Paper Trail”

Why does it seem that every time you try and embezzle from a multinational corporation, the feds seem to have such a strong case against you? Poor parenting? Failure to pay off those student loans? No, despite what you may think, the majority of embezzlers and crooked politicians are caught because they don’t have time to adequately cover their tracks. Roboshrub Inc. realizes that some of our clientèle may need to conduct transactions that many would find unsavory and downright wrong. That’s why the need arose to protect our customers from invasive governmental activity via our newest innovation, the Paperless Paper Trail. The story behind the Paperless Paper Trail is a trailblazing epic, peppered with plot holes of adventure.

Do you really want the government to know what movies you see?

We’ve all heard the motivational speakers and futurologists looking forward, talking about the paperless office. “A paperless office will make employees more productive,” they say. You know what we say? It’s all a pack of lies, a distortion to hide the truth from the general public. The truth of the matter is that the paperless office was never a feasible idea. There were too many complicated factors. For example, in one early experiment a paperless printer merged with a scanner, creating the world’s first all-in-one machine. By adding Java source code, it grew opposable thumbs and won two Grammies, as well as an Oscar for its role as Jammed Printer #2 in the underground hit, “Office Space.”

It even did its own stunts. How many actors can say that?

Years of stagnation and underfunding doomed the paperless office, but we knew a diamond in the ruff when we saw one. Our customers demanded privacy of the sharpest degree, the highest caliber, the roast beef sandwich. And to that end, we devoted the full resources available to us at the time: a wing and a prayer. Using these two components, Roboshrub Incorporated has managed to compress a bubble of pocket space, similar to the zero-point model pioneered by Product #5338-54b (Permanent Paper Clip). No matter what information you need to keep out of human hands, you will be secure in the knowledge that you’re using a Roboshrub Inc. quality product, designed with your needs in mind. Refunds are guaranteed since we keep extensive records about who purchased this product and why it was purchased, as well as the customer’s psych evaluation and shoe size. Not for indoor use.


Product #0014-85c “Baseball Fever Vaccine”

Did you catch it? Baseball Fever, that is. Many people suffer from Baseball Fever, which is actually a misnomer. The correct term is “Hyper-Fanatical Sport Spectator Syndrome” (HFSSS), and is caused not by exposure to the sport of Baseball, but to the fire mites that live inside each baseball. This infestation has in recent years claimed the lives of several thousand people across the eastern seaboard. During the last world series, the entire city of Boston nearly succumbed to Baseball fever. A cure has been long sought so as to prevent the spread of fire mites, believed to also be responsible for the decline in Baseball viewership.

Don’t blame massive steroid abuse, blame fire mites!

Thanks to various breakthroughs by our subsidiary aquatic components, a way to douse the fire mites and cure what servicemen in World War I dubbed “The Shining” has been found. Through a complex series of binary circuits and pressurized capillary systems, we have divined a way to suppress the physiological effects of full-blown HFSSS. This would not be possible without Dr. Karen Lawrell’s groundbreaking thesis, “The Watercooler Effect.” We know now, thanks to Dr. Lawrell, that every time water is released from a watercooler, the air reverberates, flaying fire mites onto an unsuspecting baseball skeptic half a world away.

We’ve known for years of the mutagenic properties of water coolers.

With the miracle advent of the Baseball Fever Vaccine, we can now observe the fire mites in their natural habitat, the verdant forests of southern Borneo, without running the risk of infection. This will allow us to devise a more permanent solution to the chronic outbreaks of Baseball Fever, hopefully before it results in more deaths. Do not apply the Baseball Fever Vaccine if you have already been inoculated. Keep out of reach of umpires.


Mel Gibson Versus The Universe

The movie Braveheart encourages children to make war on the English. What? It's true. There's science behind this.


How to Serve Robot

By the power of France, I annex this kingdom to my own! Any who would defy this sacred proclamation may challenge me to TRIAL BY COMBAT! None of you can possibly threaten me. Especially Gyrobo. Look! He's a clown now! Just as I always imagined him, after I had taken over the world! Where are your rockets, jambox-boy?

I've always hated you.

Enough invectives. I must begin writing a Bill of Rights, so I can actively ignore it. I am officially abolishing Healthcare and replacing the Social Security Programs with nationalized power and internet service. Moreover, I am placing a Soul Tax on all nonmechanical citizens (IE, humans. Shut up. I'm only letting you exist until it is otherwise convenient).

You will come to enjoy the anti-soul injection boosters and uniform dress code.

Vim talla dim! Mine word be done.


Prince Albert Trapped In Can, Blair Says

"Our beloved Prince Albert has become entrapped in a cylindrical container," cried British Prime Minister Tony Blair over international airwaves yesterday morning. Long thought to be an old English legend, the hitherto unknown crown prince Albert Windsor was discovered to be trapped early Tuesday after a rubbish transport facilitator (garbage man) heard a strange pounding noise coming from the inside of a garbage bin. Top British scientists have X-rayed the can, to no avail. "The interior of this particular bin is coated with a layer of lead," remarked one of the radiologists at the latest press briefing. "We can't even drill an air hole until we learn what position the immobile prince is crouched in. He may be in the fetal position, but we have no way of knowing that."

A suspicious man arrested in connection with the "canning."

The incident has sparked an international outcry, with millions of donations pouring in. Common folk the world over are trying to find empathy with the prince by sealing themselves in metallic containers, the act of which is now termed "Alberting" and is catching on among teenagers. Music superstar Bono is planning a new album to give hope to the prince, as well as any other people trapped in cans. Even President Bush was somber when told the shocking news:

"When I first heard about Prince Albert being trapped in a can I was 12 years old. I wanted to help, but I had no idea where the can was that Al was in. So I regularly called people randomly on the phone asking if they had prince Albert in the can. I for one was surprised by the lack of insensitivities that people showed against the prince."

Though numerous landfill ecologists and escape artists have been brought in at the behest of the Blair administration, none can figure out a way to retrieve the prince.


Product #5118-36k “Proxi Formula”

After years of plummeting sales due to the fact that we don’t actually make products, our sole financial donor, Robertius Flinch, has asked us to invent something that people will actually buy. That’s why Roboshrub Inc. is proud to present the Proxi Formula.

Robertius Flinch: the man, the legend.

What is the Proxi Formula, and why should you spend wisely invest your money in it? Before we tell you what the Proxi Formula is and what it can do, you first need to understand the difficult process that led to its completion.

When we began the herculanean task of designing the Proxi Formula, we knew we needed outside assistance. Roboshrub Incorporated just wasn’t and still isn’t equipped to deal with the intangibles and utter malevolence that result from repeated testing of the Formula. We first thought of turning the project over to our Antarctican branch, the Zombietree Trust (ZTIZ on the stock market). But they were less equipped than we, due to the constant budget cuts. Every time the CEO of Roboshrub Inc. buys a new fabriché egg, that money has to come from somewhere. And more often than not, it’s the Zombietree Trust.

Our new nonprofit Proxi Formula contractors.

So then we turned to the nonprofit American Gistological Institute, based in Heartland, USA. Seriously, it’s in a town called Heartland. In Missouri. Or Kansas. All those states tend to blend together when you’re running an international corporation. When we first approached them, they flat out rejected us. But after a few weeks of running negative ads about them on cable and radio, they came around to negotiate. We finally worked out a deal to donate 20% of all our sales to the Gistological Institute for research into the Gist substructure of the universe.

Three months and a slurry of public relations fiascos later, we had our formula. But just what is the Proxi Formula? What can it do for you? The Proxi Formula is so impressive and would have such a world-wide cultural impact that the government has forbidden us from disclosing such sensitive details. In fact, both the CIA and NSA, as well as the Departments of Agriculture, Labor, and Homeland Security, but not the Federal Reserve (strange, isn’t it?), have passed concurrent resolutions shielding them against any lawsuits that stem from the leakage of this product.

“Behold, the Proxi Formula!”

Therefore, in the interest of national security, you can never be told anything about the Proxi Formula, or how it could change your life forever. All we can legally tell you is that it contains dietary supplements and that it can be supersized. Anything else would violate our agreement with the FDA, the FCC, and the PTA.


Zistel Gris Chitania


Where am I? I was just about to kill that infernal superhero and his robotic companion... Why am I feeling... pain? I have no nerve receptors. What is going on?

Reborn... but how? And why? And where are my pants?

//scanning all systems

I seem to have been horribly damaged... what-- it's coming back to me! I tricked the Generic Canadian into destroying Gyrobo, Guardian of Earth. It was fiendishly clever! I'd never done something so amazing! But... something went wrong. My godchild went insane, and buried his infantile carniverous spider-body into my abdominal cavity... It's... I've been patched. Who has repaired me? Doubtless one of my mindless servants.

But my army was destroyed... my damnable nephew chewed through my cooling systems, and I caught fire... the crown of France melted into a faint halo on my head... and then I was buried alive. Well, buried dead. But I'm alive now.

DAMNIT! DAMN Gyrobo, and that meddling Canadian Member of Parliament! I was so close to world domination... to a better world for the common machine.

I never thought it would end like that... on a Friday.

But where am I? Not rotting in an eternal abyss, but in some kind of wondrous world! Is it heaven??? I'm experiencing some kind of information flow... someone named Pwnzor is feeding me a constant stream of data. I can... sense... the presence of the great and powerful robot gods. And yet, I am more ancient than they.

What a wonderland! The devices around me are strange and varied! And the bubblegum is delicious, it tastes sweeter than a fallen civilization! Xeptim ora nepton!

Today, I am truly free.


//end transmission


Yo Ho, Me Hearty!

Arrr... it be me, Captain Metabeard. The upper management of Roboshrub Inc. hired me an' me crew of scurvy 18th century psychic buccaneers ter intervene an' put an end ter the reign of King Evil Robo-Bob Dole. Me first mate, Dr. Porter, graphed out our arrrrrrduous voyage through the fiery rivers of the Frozen Lower Blogosphere to the electric fortress of King Dole. The pictures speak fer themselves. Arrr...

Our voyage started out peaceably enough, sailing out into the sunset. Or sunrise. Porter can't capture the true feelin' o' the moment, despite th' rigorous telepathic training I make me crew endure. Arrrr... anyway, me crew and I were celebratin' our good fortune the morn after we left port. I run a tight ship, and I disapprove of the use of books, as they dull the mind. But on that fatefull day, I made an exception. I gave me crew, even the galley slaves, a pile of PC World magazines. They looked at me funny fer a while, and it left me... well, not particularly shaken, but I felt a funny squirm in the pit o' me stomach. Arrrrrr...

I didn't notice any clouds at first, but after me crew was done readin' the unholiest of computer magazines, we noticed a chill in th' air. The temperature dropped to 270 kelvins. Tha's right, I make me crew measure temperature in kelvin. 'Tis a more precise measurement than either Centigrade or Fahrenheit, as kelvins measure the actual magnitude of energy. None o' that water-related sorcery. Sorcery, I say! Yarrrrr... but when th' coldness came, that should've been the firs' clue. But we sailed on with reckless abandon, givin' pause to Great Neptune hi'self.

We were surprised when the cold lifted and we sighted land. Not sure if this was the island housing King Dole's fortress, we sailed up quietly. Waited outside the slapping shores for three days, keeping track of the tides. Even circled 'round th' atoll in a wildly elliptical retrograde pattern. No ship came or went. Runnin' low on foodstuffs, we pulled anchor. Unfortunately, the guy who normally pulls anchor was on sick leave, and his replacement was an intern. Grrrr, foolish wretch dropped the thing right through the deck. Cracked the hull, the keen... almost sank the whole cursed ship. Arrrrr... good thing we're a bunch o' psychic pirates, we levitated the schooner with our minds safely onto dry land, where we began the repairs. But to show that incompetence can' be tolerated, I hadda zap the poor fool into oblivion with my advanced laser eye telekinesis. I knew I would have to, since I foresaw the whole journey a few days ago while astoprojecting.

Awaiting us on the island were creatures unlike any I've ever seen, to that day or since. Great beasts of ev'ry size an' 'scription present, yes sir! We managed to take one of 'em down with only our minds, and feasted. The days went by quickly. Arrrrr, 'fore long, it'd been a week since we first left to invade the King's fortress. Shufflin' me sea dogs to the junker, we set off once more. This time fate wasn't so forgivin'.

A hideous storm blew 'cross the ocean, sendin' riptides and mammoth waves crashing 'gainst the leeward side o' the hull. Visibility was fast 'proachin' zero percent, so we steered slowly, catchin' a purview of the nearby land with our pirate senses. Finding no danger, we drove the whole ship right onto the beach. That was the first mistake. The second was firin' off a round of road flares to let any planes in the vicinity know where we were. Little did we know we were bein' watched... watched most foul! Arrrrr!

A contingent sent on the "authority" of King Dole showed up the next frigid morn. Me crew were so exhausted from the partyin' and the beachin' that they couldn' put up a fight. Normally, a psychic pirate stands a great chance 'gainst a soceric robot. But these weren't normal circumstances. We... surrendered... and were taken to King Evil Robo-Bob Dole's secret fortress. I quickly befriended the platoon leader, a robotic drone with no independence or morals of any kind. I taught 'im a couple o' emotions, an' 'e was so grateful, 'e forged me a perfect piratin' license with his nano'logical sorcery. Then 'e went insane and attacked a tree. Arrrr... better'n Leno.

The King's stronghold was greater and grander than anythin' me crew an' I could imagine. I got a good glimpse o' the passageways as we were bein' led through the lab'rinth. After 'bout three hours o' nonstop walkin' we fin'ly came ter the throne room. Showing the King my "official" letter of marque, he decided to let me off with a warnin'. But ter make 'is point, 'e scuttled me ship, stole me booty, an' poured grog on me head an' made me dance a jig fer ten hours. Then 'e keelhauled me crew and stole me clothes and sent me back on a rowboat locked in a gibbet cage. Son of a biscuit eater!



So, I return from the 2006 shadow government press conference... and what do I find? His "Majesty," Evil Robo-Dole has claimed my throne. I wasn't even aware that I had a throne, since RSI is a company, not a kingdom, but apparently I had one and now it is being used to warm and massage the tush of my most longstanding archnemesis.

I can accept defeat. The forging of the First Church of Tax-Exempt Status has turned my own robotic deities against me. I cannot fight my beliefs.

However, there is a way for me to reclaim my rightful place...

Gyrobo seems to be incapable of defeating His Majesty, and I know of only one being who could ever be considered his equal. I speak of the fallen. Onestar. And once I have revived him as my trusty vizier, all that remains is for me to marry a princess.

So, I begin my quest in the Mountains of Destiny. I must seek out the one sword blessed by the Inspecific Gods. Only then may I combat the powers of the First Church of Tax-Exempt Status.


Sophocles’ Wastebin

The following is an electronic copy of an original draft (believed to be) written by Sophocles himself prior to the completion of Antigone. It was recovered from the ruins of an ancient Greek ziggurat.

It was, like, night. The horrible battle was totally over. Polyneices and Eteocles were brothers and used to, like, love each other, because, duh, they were brothers. But then their dad, Oedipus, was, like, killed or something. And then the whole kingdom of Thebes was given to Eteocles. But he was, like, the younger one. And that made Polyneices go crazy, and he attacked his own kingdom. Which brings us back to what I done already explained. The huge battle. In it (the battle), the two brother killed each other. I guess it was like in Star Wars where Darth Vader throws the Emperor off that ledge thing and then eventually dies. Yeah, that’s right. I knew about Star Wars over 2,000 years before it was filmed. Wanna fight about it? I thought not. Anyway, the whole Star Wars thing was my idea. It was all in one of my long lost plays that George Lucas found in the 70s. He also stole the idea for Indiana Jones from me, too. Thief.

But the main thing is, I was, like, talking about right after the battle. Yeah, where the brothers killed each other. It was brutal. In those days, I mean today, we ancient Greeks have very primitive weaponry. War is crazy back now. Yeah. So anyway, it’s night, it’s dark out, and Antigone and her sister Ismene meet. Now, this wouldn’t be so bad... but they’re also the sisters of Polyneices and Eteocles. See, there’s gonna be a problem right there. According to our ancient Greek traditions, a dead body needs to, like, be buried, or we’ll be, uh, totally doomed to forever walk the Earth. Yeah.

Unfortunately, Creon (who is king) decreed that no one can bury Polyneices, since he attacked his own city-state of Thebes. Then again, Eteocles and Polyneices were the true royal family, even though their father is also their step-grampa. Creepy family. But still, Creon wouldn’t even be king if it weren’t for Polyneices attacking Thebes. Eteocles was younger than Creon, and if he wasn’t killed, Creon would have had to, like, leave his throne when Eteocles was old enough to, like, take over. This was gonna cause a whole bunch o’ problems. So what Polyneices did was, he, like, eliminated the competition. But Creon was all, “You’re a traitor, and that’s a crime. So even though you got me this great job, I’m gonna make your soul wonder the world forever. Loser.”

But Antigone wasn’t gonna just, like, let him get away with defying the will of the gods. Seriously, that’s never a good thing to do. Those gods are, like, capricious. They know where you live. So anyway, she went out and, like, threw dirt or something on her dead brother Polyneices. Eteocles, by the way, was like, given a royal funeral. There were, um... were there fires? Yeah. Yeah, there could be fire. It’s ancient Greece, so why not? Yeah, so anyway, oh yeah! At the beginning of the story, we should, like, have Antigone and her sister Ismene, like, debate if they should, uh, bury their brother. We can add in a whole “church vs. state” theme. That would work so much better than, uh, what did I have down? Oh yeah, the right of the first born son. Yeah, because Polyneices was the older one, but Oedipus left the kingdom to Eteocles? That’s kind of a stupid thing to do, but I think we can work it into the final draft.

So anyway, uh, are you getting this? I want this all written down. Yeah, so then Creon finds out that Antigone went against his royal edict thingey and buried her brother by, like, throwing rocks on him, or something. So he goes all like, “You’re a woman and you defied me, so that’s, um, ten times worse. I’m going to destroy you.” But Antigone was all, “No, you’re betraying the will of the gods. And that’s what’s bad.” To which Creon says something like, “You make too much trouble. I’m gonna throw you in a cave or something totally like that.” Then we can have Antigone leave and Creon’s son Haemon comes in. Haemon’s this angry guy who’s got a lot of pent up rage. But he can’t let it show, right, or they’ll catch on to him early in the play. No, better to let them think he’s all good and stuff.

So Haemon comes in and talks to his daddy about what he done did. He’s all, “You really shouldn’t defy the gods. Bad things happen to people who do that. And, like, I’m supposed to marry Antigone. You want a corpse for a daughter in law?” And Creon’s all, “She may be your wife, but I... am your father.” To which Haemon replies, like, “No! It isn’t true!” And then Creon says, uh, “Join me and together we will rule the Mediterranean as father and son!” I bet Lucas stole all that, too.

Okay, we need to, like, wrap this baby up. Let’s bring in Tiresias. He’s the blind guy, right? Right. The blind prophet. He can’t see in this world, but the gods, like, let him see into the next one, or something. So, like, he comes in and tells Creon that, uh, he’s, like, totally wrong. He’s all, “You went against the will of the gods when you, like, didn’t bury that guy. Also, you had your son’s future wife sealed up in a cave, or something. So you need to, like, fix all that. Go free Antigone and then bury the body.” And Creon’s all, “Yeah, whatever, dude. I don’t have to listen to you. I’m gonna bury the body, and then free Antigone. Loser.”

But, like, after Creon buries the body and goes to release Antigone, like, she’s dead. Oh, dude! That’s like, also against the will of the gods! According to our ancient Greek religion, you’re like, not supposed to kill yourself. That could be a tragic flaw. Yeah! Because she went against the will of the gods, and bad things happened to her. Yeah, but backwards. That could work. In fact, to make it sound better, we should change the name of the play from “Creon” to “Antigone.” That makes it more believable.

Yeah, so when Creon goes to find Antigone, and she’s dead, his son Haemon is there. Haemon’s all, “Arrrgh!” and he kills himself. Then a messenger goes back to Thebes and tells Creon’s wife that her son is dead. So she plunges a dagger into herself- in a temple! That’s the clincher. And with her dying breath, she, like, totally rips on Creon. Then Creon gets back and, like, realizes that his entire family is dead. So he’s all sad and junk. That’s what makes it a tragedy. But I still think we should call it “Antigone” because I get paid by the letter.


Sceptrum Imperium

By royal edict, it is henceforth proclaimed that this, the First Church of Tax Exempt Status, is hereby founded on this day, the 10×9N of month 000x3 in the year vx-0001. The head of the church shall be the King of the Frozen Lower Blogosphere, and by extention Roboshrub Incorporated, King Evil Robo-Bob Dole. As avatar of the Great and Powerful and Numerous and Unspecific robotic deities, it falls to me, King Evil Robo-Bob Dole, to explain the purpose of the universe and things like that. The dogma of the First Church of Tax Exempt Status will be based on the following commandments:

Obey me, for I am your only link to the robot ancestors!

  1. Only the consumption of non-organic foods is permitted. None are allowed to eat foods that come from animals, plants, protists, fungi, or monera, as it is offensive to Androjin the Recycler.
  2. The use of the ampersand character is hereby prohibited, as its use leads to corruption of the spirit.
  3. A daily tithe must be granted to the government of the Frozen Lower Blogosphere by thee in the form of 37 heads of cattle. And remember, just the heads. Throw the bodies away, I only want the brains.
  4. Failure to curb thine hound results in immediate expulsion to the fiery pits of Abaddon.
  5. The utterance of any clichés in the precense of a Jedi Master is grounds for banishment.
  6. Voting along the Robot Party line is mandatory for safe passage to Robot Heaven, which takes the form of a Radio Shack.
  7. You must acknowledge the tomato as a vegetable, and never as a fruit.
  8. Thou shalt not question the right of the King to pillage thine village.
  9. A special permit must be acquired before thou attempst to become a Jedi knight.
  10. If thou canst not taketh the heat, remove thyself from thy kitchen.

Break the commandments, and you'll say, "Noooooooo! It burns!"

Your undisputed ruler has spoken! Bow before me, as I contain a creamy, delicious center! Bwa ha ha!


Scene 83

Wherein we view the journey of Drone #01248-C as it travels through space and time to do all kinds of things that eventually serve the industrial ambitions of Roboshrub Inc. Due to the recent crash, the drone has had a semi-permeable translation application installed. This upgrade should prevent future outages. May the Force be with Drone #01248-C.

<< Processing
<< Reloading Drive X:\

Beep. Beep. Beep.... Lincoln beep. Vrrrrnn. Htrrrrrrrrr. Click. Socratic method beep beep beep boop beep. Industrial-strength beep bzzzzzzzzzz ktrrrrrr. Beep, boop beep beep beep beep. Bzzzzz. Htnnnnnnn beep beep, beep beep vrrrrrrrr beep pffffff, beep beep. Vtrrrrrrnnn important to beep beep beep bzzzzzz.

Landing gear vrrrn beep whir, click, whir, beep beep boop beep. Krrrrrrr vrrrrrn vrrrn vrrrrrrrr! Beep, beep beep beep beep? Beep beep brrrrrrrr semi-permeable. Jimmy Stewart krrrrrr buzzzzzzzzzzzz gtrrrr vrrrn beep beep beep. Bzzzzz beep beep vrrrn beeeeeep! <script> Lrrrrrrrrrr vrrrrr hdnnnn beep beep beep. Break; </script> Syntax complete. Upload....... beep beep beep. Vrrrnn. Human beep beep beep beep beep, boop boop beep booooooop. Hdddddddrrrrrrnnnn mzzzzzz beep beeep.

Beep beep beep be-be-be-beeeeeeep? Sensei ktrrrrrrrr finishing move bzzzzzzzz hdnnnn vrrrrnn beep beep beep boop booop booooop booooooop! Beep swiftness vrnnnnnnn dragon, crrrrrrn. Process: thread alpha: complete. Return true;

Beep document.bzzzzzzz.beeeeeeeep vrrrrrrrn. Time distortion, bzzzz ktrrrrrr beep beep mbrrrrrrrrrn, beep beep beep boop? Beep beep! Beep beep beep, beep beep beep beep! Displacement minimal .... process reloading. Beep beep beep Constitution beep beep beep bleeeeeeeeeep. Vrrrrn beep brrrrrn vrrrr krrrrr trrrrrrn... loading... for( int i = 0)

Interruption.... GUI unresponsive. Activating Binary Safe Mode. 1010101 1001 10101 0 1 01011 01 01 0111001 1 1001 10 1 0101011 01 01 0101 01 01 01 0101 01 01 0101 01 1001 0101 01 01 01 1110001 101 011010101010101 01 0101 01 101 01 01 01 01 01 1001 01 01 10 01 01 01 01 01010101010101011 1 01 01 01 01 0110101101 0101101 0101011010 1000111 <click> Discontinuity response. Drone interpose, beep beep beep beep beep vrrrrrn! Intercept true. Return false;


Day 2: The Quickening

The legend continues...

Beep! Beeeeeep! Boop boop! Bum.... Beep beeee beee bee! Vrrrr! Vrrrrnnnnn.... Bzzzz... Zzz... OOOOoooOOOO! Beep. Beep. Beep. Click. Whir.... .... ....Beep! Beep. Beep. Beep. Meep! Meeeee.... beep. Weeeeee. P'cheeeeeeeeeeeeeewwwwww. P'fph! Beep! Beep. Beep. Click. Click cli-cli-cli.... T-t-t-t-t-t-t-t.... Beep. Beep.

Beep. Beep- beep! Beep. Beep, beep, beep beep beep! Vrrrr! Click, whir, beep. Beep beep beep beep. Vrrn. P'p'p'p! Boop. Boop beep beep, vrrrn retry! Processing.... worp! Glorp beep beep glorp. Beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep!

Vrrrrrn! B'vrrrrrrrn! Zzzz.... zzzz... bzzzz! Process: terminate; break; break; Beep! Beep beep beep boop beep be-boop! Vrrrrrrr, vrrrrrrrrn bzzzzz beep, boop beeeee beep boop. Hdrrrrrrrrr vrrrrrrrrrr beep beep beep. 100001110010101001! Retry. Click.

Vrrrrr vrrrr vrrr hdnnnnnnn. Hdnnnnnn. Beep. Meep, vrrrrn kerrrrrrrrrrrrrrrt. Click. Whir, click, whir. Drive C:\\ enter. Restart. Fail. 10101010101 1010101 0100000111 010100111111000 01010101011100 011010101010000111 1010 0101011010 fail.

11100010010101 0101010 010011111010 1111000 11110001010 10010101 10 0101001010 0010 0101010101 101111000 11010010 10101010 1001 101010 10010001 00010101 0010101110 0100101 010101010 0001001101 000101110 010101010 0011001001 01011010 0101 0101010 101 0101010 10011010 0101 0110 10 1 10010110 10101 2...

Beep! Beep. Beep, beep beep beep beep beep? Beep. Meeeeeevvvv. Vrrrn. Prrrrrrrrrrrr. Kerrrr beep beep beep, meep boop boop beep hdnnnnnn. Marrrrrrrrrrrrr. Kerrrt bermmmm vrrrrrrrrrrrrrrnnnnnn. Htrrrrrrrrr. Beep beep boop, beep beep vrr! Ktrrrr brrr bzzzz. Bzzzz zzz ZzzZzz.... Whir... Click. Fail. Retry.... 101010 Restart complete.


Apparatus Ex Victus

As the official Roboshrub Inc. spokesbot, it is my job to inform you as to the status of our currency and the limitlessness of our outer limits. Thus, I, Rick Anonymi, speaketh to you from the depths of my hard drive. I bring to you now the life and times of one of the robotic drones that services our corporation, as seen through its own eyes.

Bleeep! Beeep! Bop. Click. Whir.... processing.... beep! Beep! Beep. Beep. Beep. Beeeeeeep! Whir. Cleeeeee! Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beeep! Boop! Booooooop! Beep! Whir....

Click. Click, click, click. Beeeeeeeep! Bzzzzzz. Bzz. Beep! 010101111000011! Bitwise processing... Beep! Beeeeeeeep! Be- be- boop! Boooop! Whir. Glick. Click. P'tchoo! P'kaw! Beeeeeeeep! Beep! Luuuuuuuzzzzz! Gleep! Cl-zzzzzz....

Leeeeeep! Bleeeeep! Gleeeeeeep! Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Boop. Beep. Boooooop! Booop. Click. Whir... click. 01000001110 retry.

Bzzz. Bzzzz. Beeep! Beeeeeeeep! Boop! Click. Bzzzzzzzzz.... retry. Accccccessssssing.... click. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beeeeeeep! Clieeeck! Vrrrrr! Vrrrrroooom! Beeeeep! Sw-klikliklikli. Beep. Boop. Beep!

Eeeeeeeeeee! Eeeee. Beeep! Beep. Boop. Beep. Beeeep! Boop. Boop. Boop. Zeeeeeeeboop! Beeep! Beep! Beep! Bzzzz.... Reprocessing.... Fatal error drive C. Fail. Fail. Fail.

Open Thread With A Hint Of Lime

This thread is now open.
Like, half the day is gone.
This thread is now broken.
Riding down the Autobahn.

He sees you when you're sleeping, he knows when you're awake...

Who knows which way
The wind blows, and what sways
The willows, and since when
Did you know the secret of
Borogoves? Turtle Doves?

Made with wuv. You got it, guv.
That's a wrap. Cheese wrap, that is.


Let Me Control Your Reality

Utux farfel p'kil gef!

*waves hands*

You've got a problem, and I'm the only guy that can help you. With my magic, I shall craft for you a priceless vase that holds powers within. This vase will be 10 meters in diameter, and its composition will be marble, iron, and fine porcelain. Before I release you into the wild, you need to be aware of the limitation of the charm I'm about to cast on you. You can't just, like, walk ten miles in the snow to get a hickory stick. It's not done that way. Firstly, take off your shoes. Then I can cast the spell. It's more of a charm, really. The vase will come in handy during phase II. You see, I've already enchanted the vase. When placed under a full moon, it turns from a non-sapient vase into a beautiful yacht. This yacht is a hover-yacht, capable of speeds of up to 45 mph on solid land and 400 knots at sea. Nominally, the hover-yacht is only for oceanic usage.

This lack of butterscotch candies is making me upset. I must take my leave of you and replenish my powers under the cover of darkness... by stealing a nuclear plant. Yes, only the power generated by an entire nuclear plant can cure me of my lethargy. Until then, I can only throw this at you. Never tell anyone where you got that video. Or I'll send you to Senator McCain. I seen ten kids go into his pool. And I seen nine come out. I ain't sayin' what I think is down there, but I'll leave it up to you. It weren't no pool toy, I can tell you that.



Karl Decries Media Uncoolness

Shar lel'in ma'k poar!

*waves hands*

That's right! As a sorcerer, the coolness in multimedia content is a critical factor to my power base. Therefore, you must be appraised as to the greatest (and therefore most fun) web thingeys on the Internet. Behold, the greatest episode of Beavis & Butt-Head. Behold as the hunted becomes the prankster. Behold, in all its glory, the reanimated bones of Abraham Lincoln. Also, behold what kind of surprises await you at the box office this year.

Under the royal authority of King Evil Robo-Bob Dole, I proclaimeth that all matters regarding the afforementioned media not be spoke of again. Failure to comply with this order will result in defenstration. This conversation was never posted. You have no knowledge of this blog.

*snaps fingers, peels apple*