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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

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Suffer the Fate of a Thousand Bees!
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Electronic Dialog ’08

Ho ho! Welcome to Electronic Dialog with Hans Cuttler! I’m Hans, and I’m here to answer any and all questions you civilians have about obscure, obscene, and omnipresent technology. My name in Greek means “man of fire,” and I bring a spicy attitude to the keyboard every single [expletive] time. Let’s go right to the letters:

Dear Hans,

I’ve been restoring my father’s old pickup truck, and I’m up to the coil assembly. Can I connect my adaptive coil handler with copper coils in conjunction with chrome coils? The handler is a 32B bit model, if that helps.

Paul Gettle
Bottleton E.

Paul, throw out that handler right now. It’s probably older than the pickup. The 32B bit model was discontinued in 1980, and even then it wasn’t up to connecting copper and chrome coils. That’s a low end model. You try to connect your coils with that thing, and you’ll just end up blowing the whole assembly.

Like most people, you’re not as adept at adaptive coil handler handling as you should be, but it’s not your fault. The high schools used to teach this kind of thing in shop, and it gave us a nation of handler experts.

I can tell you from experience that what you want to do is get the new GHI bipush adapter. It’s the natural successor to the 32B bit, and should join your copper and chrome coils without incident.

But... if you’re tight for cash and you really need to use your 32B bit — and I can’t stress how much I recommend against doing this — you can coat your coils with a Grade C iron lubrication siphon. If you use a quarter bottle per foot of wire it should be fine, unless you’re using the metric 32B bit. The metric version was a power hog and you can’t use lubrication on it.

Be very careful if you go the lubrication route. The last thing you need is a [expletive] blown assembly.

Dear Hans,

My new Armalite satellite dish gives me static in sunny weather, and crystal clear reception in the rain and snow! I’ve asked my provider, and they sent a guy three times to no avail. My nephew says that the satellite’s synchronous teleprocessor is jammed, and he reset it. The static went away for a few days, but it came back. Is there a permanent solution, or will I have to keep resetting my teleprocessor?

Florine di Grázio
Route 38 West

The problem is in your teleprocessor, but indirectly. Route 38 is right next to those mountains, and that’s what’s really causing the feedback in your teleprocessor. The weather has [expletive] nothing to do with it.

Armalites all work on the same frequency specified by the FCC, but it’s a junk frequency. Every time you reset your dish, you temporarily shift to an emergency band reserved by the national guard. I don’t know who told your nephew he could go around resetting teleprocessors nandy-tandy, you should only be resetting your dish if there’s a national emergency. Otherwise, you could get a fine.

What you need to do now is file a 89-90 request application for a teleprocessing discriminator with your provider. They’re legally obligated to pass your request to the FCC, who should send you the discriminator. There’ll be an annual $10 fee, but it should permanently filter out frequency echos.

You also might want to consider cable. Most of my friends on Route 38 have cable just because of the [expletive] Armalite lawsuit.

Dear Hans,

While delousing a wall in my pool equipment shed last week, I found a vintage 1976 Olea Starman™. The box was dessicated and unreadable, but the plastic packaging and instructions were intact.

If I remember right, the Olea Starman was recalled when lab tests found trace heavy elements in certain Star-modules. Has the half-life of the elements rendered the Starman inert by this point? I’d really like to take a crack at this thing — the original paints are included!

Lilly Lyons
Burger Palace, Redshaw County

You’ve got me in a bind, Lilly. I’m hard-pressed to tell any hobbyist not to take up a vintage model, but the Olea Starman was the E.T. of the Starman series. I got my hands on one before the recall, and I can tell you that the instructions were nothing short of useless. Parts were clearly mislabled [sic], and the thrust module was unattachable.

Don’t worry about that whole “heavy element” mix-up. We didn’t know then what we know now about stable transuranic isotopes. Bad as the Olea was conceptually, truth be told, our cars and buildings would be cheaper and stronger if they were made from the same material. Some of Olea’s developers work for NASA today, y’know.

Dear Hans,

Sir! Here’s the skinny, Hans. I run a professional drill cosy embroidery service, selling drill cosies over the Internet to collectors, craftsmen, even had a few of my wares in the KC 40th Spectacular two years ago. Lately my inbox is full of complaints from long-time users, saying that the cosies I sold them three or more years ago has contributed to “rust nuggetization” of their drills.

Since my cosies are all made of prolapsed plastate, should I expect more angry letters in the future? My supplier told me that rust nuggetizing only occurs in tropical climates, but I’m seeing it in overwhelming numbers.

Lester M. McHammer
CEO, McHammer Cosy Co.
North Oxglove

*Sigh* Anyone with a cursory knowledge of prolapsed plastate knows it isn’t [expletive] enough for something as intricate as a drill cosy. Frankly, I’m surprised your business hasn’t gone under! I remember hearing about someone at the KC 40th four years ago using a prolapsed drill cosy, and I remember writing a column discouraging its use.

How is your supplier even getting you the plastate? It’s illegal to import or manufacture domestically, since ’97. The stuff is more toxic than asbestos! You should consider yourself lucky that half your customers still have their original eyes and aren’t on dialysis. I’m no legal [censored], but you should lawyer up.

Incidentally, you can prevent rust nuggestization of the head and handle by underlying the cosy with a lead tarp.

Dear Hans,

I read your column religiously, but I’ve just got to disagree with your March 18 discription [sic] of a rotated cuff revolver as “akin to the lovechild of a garbage truck and a cotton candy machine”. The rotated cuff revolver may not be pretty, but in the industry it’s a godsend! Do you know how many man and women hours we’ve gained thanks to rotated revolver cuffs? Not even counting the daylight savings!

Rotated revolver cuffs advanced production of the Hemming II hybrid engine from two years to completion to a month and a half. So please, enlighten us on your “holier than thou” attitude toward cuffs. From where I’m standing, you’re just a bitter old fart with no foresight or future in the industry.

Horace de Túmadray
Olathe Landing

You started out pretty solid there, Horace, but then you sort of turned into a [expletive] [expletive]-[expletive] [censored] [expletive] dog-eared [expletive]-[expletive] [expletive]. But I digress.

If you actually read my article instead of wiping your [expletive] dog-eared [expletive]-[expletive] with it, you’d know that the rotated revolver cuff is the pipe dream of a hose-head.

32% of all rotated revolver cuffs are born defective. 18% fail on reentry. And I didn’t just pull those numbers from thin air! Industry experts like Roger Miler and Steven Gustave and Gloria Hemming — yes, that Hemming — all brought those numbers to me. People with firsthand experience, all saying the cost/benefit ratio isn’t high enough for this technology.

Your comments were way over the line. If you were really in the industry, you’d already know that that report on the productivity increase was a complete lie to increase circulation of Heaven: Mark VII magazine. The time to completion actually increased once the bicubic washers were replaced with those cheap rotated revolver cuffs.
Hans Cuttler writes columns whenever he [expletive] pleases, and is proud to attend and perform at speaking events in countries he is still welcome in.



CSSIH: “Beware!”

We’d like to present without further ado the first part of Roboshrub Inc.’s ongoing series, Comic Scans Sans Inky Hands, a journey into the groovy underbelly of 1970s comic bookery!

Click picture for full cover

The Werewolf Was Afraid!

Too Human to Live!

On The Trail of the Witch!

Behind the Door




Oh Dane-y Boy, The Hogs, The Hogs are Snarling

Friends, Romans, and esteemed readers, may I be the first to wish you a Happy April Fish Day! Don't let anyone catch you being an April Fish!

Rather than pull some sort of crude or rotten trick on you, I would like to relate a story from my recent adventures.

Over the summer, I spent a great deal of time in Western Europe. After crossing the English channel, I found myself in the proud state of Denmark.

For those of you who've never been, Denmark is a balmy place. Its Northerliness would lead you to believe that it would hold a temperate environment, at best, but it finds itself at the receiving end of the transatlantic gulf stream. What this means is that the warm water and warm weather Florida and Mexico enjoy is shot straight across the ocean, thousands of miles, to warm the Danish shores. And they never have to worry about hurricanes!

In any case, I was have a fine time in the land of Beowulf and Hamlet, dining on smoked mackerel and frikadeller. Copenhagen is a city of trends and cultural innovation. Sometimes it is even referred to as "Little Paris." You can buy tiny Eiffel Towers in their gift stores.

Not that I visit gift stores. I'm multiculturally adept, and fit any anywhere I go. After all, I've got thumbs. Nobody ever mistakes me for a tourist. And don't try to argue with me on the point, because I'm ending this digression this instant.

One of the strangest things about Denmark is that domesticated pigs wander the streets of every city. After gathering a little information, I learned that there are more pigs than people, in Denmark, and that some are pets, but others are merely scavengers. The Danish don't do anything to curtail these rogue suidae because they're smart enough to stay out of traffic and eat garbage off of the streets.

"Nifty!" I said. It's an easy thing, to mistake an amassing force of intelligent scavengers for a cute, handy social tool.

I changed my mind, of course, when I exited a Coperhagen pub and found myself confronted with a strange sight.

An enormous, lumpy man in a trench coat and fedora was crouched in an alleyway. He stood, and turned past me, and hurried away, but not before I caught a glimpse of his fuzzy snout. I wasn't sure whether to follow him or to check the alleyway.

On an impulse, I walked into the passage he'd emerged from. There was a dumpster overflowing with organic garbage. Slop, one might say. And behind the dumpster was a brown package.

I untied the dropped goods, shivering with horror. Inside was a slip of paper, which simply read "tonight," and a cannister marked with radiation warning symbols.

I wanted to bring this to the authorities, but I wasn't sure what I'd just walked in on. Besides, how would one go about explaining this kind of thing?

"Oh, is the the police station? Jolly good! I'd like to turn in this cannister of active uranium. Where did I get it? Well, some pigs in a trench coat left it behind a dumpster. No, I don't want you to put it in the lost and found. I don't want them to get it back. It's URANIUM."

No, I didn't need that kind of frustration. Not on my vacation. So I packed it up with the rest of my things and went back to my flat.

I paid careful attention to the news that night, but there was nothing mentioned. I will note, however, that when I ventured out later that evening, I didn't spy a single swine. Undoubtedly they were all miles away, by now.

Thank goodness for my opposable thumbs, I thought. Coperhagen might be be an irate, irradiated wreck if not for my quick thinking and propensity towards opening other people's mail. There's no evidence to suggest that the pig won't try to take over, again, but I wash my hands of the whole matter. How many times can the Danish expect me to save their country?

It was good frikadeller, though.

Eventually I left for Berlin, and I took the cannister with me. I lost it much later in Marrakesh, but that's a story for a different day.