A poet, a Nascar driver, a politician, and a schoolteacher
walk into a bar.
The poet acts snobby and starts mumbling
some bullshit about experience
and groaning about postmodern archetypes.
The Nascar driver smiles like a buffoon
and scratches his nuts.
The politician smiles and shakes hands and dances
around like some sort of doppelganger.
And the schoolteacher talks about how hard his job
is and how teachers have it so hard and he acts
depressed that nobody gives a single shit.
Then I swoop in from nowhere and pummel
them all with my robotic hammerfists
and my calloused alien-modified heart.
The Moral: No one is better than anyone else. All people are scum.
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2 comments:
OK, I see this sort of thing all the time, you know, sort of anecdotes about how people go into some bar and then perform stereotyped actions. Some will say it is sexist to presume the Nascar driver to be a male Homo sapiens, when they could be a female or other animal. So maybe you should say, "The Nascar driver smiles like a buffoon and scratches her nuts." Also, in paragraph 2, you say you pummel them all, but where's your proof!? I have met many people like you who say they are evil robots when they're on the internets but then when you meet them they're actually a Homo sapiens. With thoughts and dreams and goofy smiles and stinking bungholes just like everyone else. Many of these so-called evil robots will secretly perform philanthropic deeds during certain times of the year. Like Gragron-7, who turns out to be a 17-year old male Homo sapiens who told me he was going down to the metro to beat up derelicts but then I see him giving some wino $5 for a sandwich. Why don't you just say it: "then me and the poet and the teacher and the politician and especially the Nascar driver had some warm milk at the bar, and I drove them to my house, and we snuggled together while we watched Oprah that I taped earlier." Here is an email link where I may be reached using software: craptoids@yahoo.com
Gragron-7, what a pathetic imbecile. As I've posted in many previous posts, I am not happy about being a part-robot. Do you think I enjoy being alive this long? The sweet gift of death would be such a welcome release for me. But instead I'm destined to live on. I've so many enemies in this universe alone that if I am ever tracked down and captured, I will be dissassembled and turned to a recreator, spending the rest of my days tortured with the dull entertainings of my captors. Thanks to my alien (or at least that's what you would call them) benefactors, I have been given the "gift" of eternal life, or at least life that far exceeds the normal limits of the Homo sapiens, which by the way is truly one of the most pathetic lifeforms I've ever had the displeasure of seeing, and (at one time being). What is Homo sapiens if it isn't just one big stereotype? And Oprah, is just an anagram for Porha, one of the ancient alien leaders who came to Earth billions of years ago and started the seeds of life. Alien caretakers still walk the planet, mindful to keep the masses and masses of people stiff and stuck and stupid.
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