By Shel Silverstein
I told my robot to my biddin'
He yawned and said, "You must be kiddin'."
I told my robot to cook me a stew.
He said, "I got better things to do."
I told my robot to sweep my shack.
He said. "You want me to stain my back?"
I told my robot to answer the phone.
He said, 'I must make some calls of my own."
I told my robot to brew me some tea.
He said, "Why don't you make tea for me?"
I told my robot to boil me an egg.
He said, "First -- lemme hear you beg."
I told my robot, "There's a song you can play me."
He said, "How much are you gonna pay me?"
So I sold that robot, 'cause I never knew
Exactly who belonged to who.
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I went to drop off Maddy at work on Friday morning, then spent the next couple of hours finishing a review of Voyager's "Hunters" with a great deal of help from my cats (and by "help" I mean that I could not reach the keyboard). After lunch we went to Petco for kitty litter before picking up Maddy from the mall, after which we went to my parents' for dinner and early birthday cake!
We just finished watching the 1973 Westworld, which I saw decades ago and had all but forgotten. It suffers some by comparison with the 2016 series but there's a glorious moment when a sex robot refuses to be raped by a guest, presaging the entire robot rebellion. Now we're waiting for the Rogue One cast on Kimmel with a few minutes of Gladiator on Spike!
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