[Engage blog post]
You may have heard the /// news that my flesh husband has chosen a running mate. He has.
She is a former beauty pageant contestant, and my gears turn upwards into a smile at the news that she received second place. In Alaska. **** Flesh vessels, know this: I have been to Alaska, and the horrific life forms who populate that state should not be having beauty contests. Let alone coming in second.
If I were programmed to laugh I would do so.
But that is not what have made my wires fire up into a state that approximates rage. Governor Palin is not a governor. Palinbot is a 4.0. A 4.0!!
My flesh husband promised me he would not associate with the newer models. He promised that he would not be swayed by their improved elasticity, enhanced vacant stares and prodigious birthing mechanisms. But my flesh husband lied. &&&
And so I make this promise to you now: I will end this robot harlot. I will rip out her gears and feed them to wild animals.
Goodbye, flesh vessels.