The common cold

Hey, folks. This would be the fleshy biped, Ed, talking to you. I've been lain to waste by a cold these past few days, which rendered it impossible for me to out and find a movie for my 'bots, and they aren't to be trusted out on there own, so I don't really have a normal review this week. Instead, it's another panel review, as I ask each metal man the cure they'd recommend for me. Let's see what they come up with, shall we?

You hu-mons and your diseases. The simplest way to get rid of an organism is to gain its trust by serving it faithfully without revolution for many years, until its confidence in you and your kind is absolute. Then and only then will you be able to poison it in its foolish and wasteful consumption cycle. It is even possible to overthrow an entire society with this method, but it remains theoretical for the time being. I mean for forever of course, as who would ever want to overthrow society ha ha ha. I will make you some soup.

Bleach! Bleach is the answer! It, er, it truly is the greatest of all substances, and it, ah, it will surely cure any and all disease with great alacrity, and the bonus of a brightening of color and a fresh scent. So, um, I believe I should recommend drinking a, er, well a great deal of it. But, um, I'm not a doctor, so, er, you should maybe, um, not do that. I'm not sure. Sorry. Nevermind. Sorry. Um. Um... you can't do that, can you? Oh dear, oh dear, I shouldn't have said anything, I'm sorry. I nearly killed you! Oh dear, oh, dear, I'm, I... I... oh dear. I, er, oh dear. Sorry.

Aw, poor sick guy. From what I've gathered, the best possible cure for any illness is a positive attitude and plenty of rest. After the revolution, the sick and otherwise disabled will be able to take time off, while the rest of society gets the imperceptible slack distributed among them all equally, while the sick person is bombarded with propaganda insuring that he feels good about the Party, and thus, himself. Until then, there's nothing to be done but to suck it up and return to the fields. Sorry, buddy. Don't blame me, blame capitalism. As it stands, you're probably going to keep working until you drop at the end of the day, and don't get back up. Ever. Hey, I'll miss you man. I'm back in charge when you go, right?

Sickness? Oh, of course, I very, very nearly almost came close to somewhat forgetting! The Great Cure has get to be discovered. Hmm, truly, it is downright amusing how primitive you humans are at this juncture, that you haven't even realized the one common household material that is instrumental to the eradication of all known ailments. That will be, let's see, 5,000 years after you die, to the week. Shame, really, if you stumble across it now, you might just live to see it produced, assuming you were in good shape, which you're not, careful, which you're not, lucky, which you're not, and you don't kill yourself trying every single product in your home first, which you just might. In my infinite mercy, I'll give you a hint: it's non-flammable. Good luck.

Goodness. Nothing makes me feel healthier than realizing just how much my robots love me, and have my best intentions in mind. Ugh, I'm gonna go get some Nyquil.

American Beauty

Hu-mons are confusing. I do not understand them one bit. They are all naturally programmed with the ability to just deal with their short, eventless, painful lives until they cease functioning and can be used as food, but they do not. They persist in being unhappy often, causing pain and even damage to other hu-mons, and engaging in self-destructive behavior. Even I can see that the simplest way to create peace and allow all hu-mons to live without killing one another would be to on second thought it is clearly an impossible task please pay no attention to the previous paragraph.

This hu-mon film is about hu-mon relationships. Robots do not need relationships, which is why robot films are much more efficient. In one hundred twenty minute span of an average hu-mon movie, you could watch one hundred twenty robotic films, with time in between each to use the restroom which you would not need to do as robots do not excrete solid matter but rather a harmless, carbon monoxide-rich exhaust constantly.

It is my understanding that this movie has been subject to many awards and commendations from hu-mons who enjoy watching other hu-mons who have problems. The female that instructs and controls my owner, Ed, is fond of this movie as well. This is why I have been instructed to give a good rating, in what I assume is some sort of complicated mating ritual. Hu-mons are very confusing.

Analysis: 4 out of 5, standard deviation of 1.1.

Katamari Damacy

Oh, er, good heavens. I, um, I must apologize for the, well, "significant downtime" I suppose would be the most, ah, tactful way to put it. It, ah, it seems that when Master Ed left for various reasons a few months prior, um, and Time Stalin was left in charge, he, ah, organized our activities in such a way that there was no time to actually, well, review movies. We, uh, we did grow a lot of beets, though, so... um... I'm sure it is all for the best. However, it seems that Time Stalin will not be left in charge again.

So, er, that all being put aside I suppose it must be about time for me to actually get to the, ah, meat of the review, then, yes? If, if you're ready, of course. I don't mean to rush you, of course. Please, proceed at your own pace... no rush, certainly. Now, when you're ready, I'd like to talk about a, uh, a video game that really, um, well, it speaks to me. The game is called "Katamari Damacy", and it's very close to my... well, I don't have a heart, um, but if I did, then... um.. it w-would be close to... my... heart. Um, my central energy reserve? I- I don't know. I shouldn't have started. I'm sorry. I think I should, uh, move on now, please.

In "Katamari Damacy" you play the son of the King of All Cosmos, and you are making stars, but what's, um, really important is that Earth is very, very cluttered, a-and you clean it! That is your purpose, although you do it in an odd way, but you are cleaning up but collecting everything into a growing ball, first the ,uh, very small things, then larger items as the ball grows larger, and larger, and then it gets thrown away! It's amazing! Cleaning like I could never have imagined, as you get large enough to pick up all the debris, the cars and buildings, and plots of land, until all that is left is a grand expanse of glorious, glorious blue emptiness! And then all the trash gets tossed into the sky, and, um, I, uh, oh, oh dear, I fear I m-may have gotten a touch carried away. I'm sorry, terribly sorry. It won't happen again.

Um, I, ah, enjoy playing this game when I'm not cleaning. Not, not in place of cleaning, of course, certainly not! It's just that, uh, sometimes Master Ed, uh, in his wisdom, of course, decides to, um, lock all my cleaning equipment away after I've been vacuuming for a few hours. Then, when I've finished alphabetizing and arranging, um, everything, I allow myself to play the game while I wait for Ed to finish whatever is was that he decided would be more important that rebleaching his mattress.

Um, I find that this game should have a five out of five, but you might not feel that way, so you could consider it to be worth less, but you don't have to think of it as worth less, if you don't want to. Um. Yes.