Journal Of Robert0936475, Part II
How are your pitiful human lives? My existence might be continuing quite nicely -- I would know if I were able to feel real emotions instead of simply programmed to react to certain environmental or emotional stimuli with specific response algorithms.
I have been absent from my on-line journal for quite some time because of an ethical dilemma that stemmed from the fact that I power myself with steaks stored in my legs. I decided that I would rather not live if my life depended on the exploitation of other living beings and thus took my life-giving steaks from my leg and fed them, with my final amperes, to my doggy. After approximately a month of enforced shut-down, however, I was revived by a badger who was using my leg to store a badger carcass. Upon waking, I realized that cows are stupid. I should live, even at the expense of them, because in living I can do so much more for humanity, which sometimes is slightly less stupid than cows.
This decision took me two hours, though in subjective human time it took only .0006 seconds due to my superior processing speed.
Sometimes I become lonely, being the most intelligent being in the known universe. No-body understands my jokes. On the other metallic grasping-device, I bet if there were another being as intelligent as I, it would have to be an exact duplicate of me, and I would definitely make fun of me for many processes that I complete unmercifully. I would point out all the faults that are evident to a very intelligent being and I would laugh mechanically at me. I think I might prefer to be alone. I am an asshole.
I am involved currently in an affair with my neighbor's iMac. He is not yet knowledgeable of this, but I suppose the extant evidence will reveal itself when my neighbor wants to burn music and finds her birth-control CDs.
No. Ha Ha Ha Ha. That is a joke, because pitiful humans can reproduce through the act of procreation and computers cannot. My neighbor will become aware of our illicit jaunts through torrid computer passion when he steps in the motor oil I sprayed wildly all over his study.
Oh no -- I must go download music with my new digital wireless internet microwave cell phone before my current software becomes incompatible with the internet. Farewell for now, pitiful humans!
