amicus
Literotica Guru
- Joined
- Sep 28, 2003
- Posts
- 14,812
Sad, Silly, Little Cyborgs
Actually, ‘Androids’, like, ‘Data’, on TNG, would be more accurate, but I had the alliteration of silly cyborg’s in mind and I’m stickin’ with it.
I suppose my distaste for vegetarians and vegans, (pun intended), who reject the human proclivity for red meat consumption, eating the flesh of animals for sustenance, considered an, ‘ick factor’, by many contemporary left wing pussies and other aberrants, was my first inkling of an hippie originated divergence from the history of man, the meat eating animal. Predator, if you want; top of the food chain, the only critter to survive in any and all climate conditions on earth. (go ahead, pick away…)
For the longest time, I thought super heroes were for children’s entertainment; not so, as grown up irresponsible adults yearn for and immerse themselves in such diversions from real life.
Then, of course, from Wonder Woman, to the Power Puff Girls, or Sailor Moon and such, to Charlie’s Angels and all the Naruto girls, now even split-tails can take leave of their senses and fly and die and be born again to fight some more in that generic dream of being anything but human.
No… it is not the video age of games and films, those are the eggs, the chickens came first and they are and were, the tiny little frightened minds and bodies that rebel from actual physical contact with others, and prefer the fantasy world of fiction to live in.
It is, I say, endemic of an age following the Great Depression, World War Two, and the death of God, which happened in Sartre’s bedroom at two a.m. on a Sunday morning, in the March of a false spring in Marseilles.(with apologies to Charles Darwin…)
But, back to my thesis of little boys and girls wishing to be cyborgs or androids to avoid the messy necessity of being human and having to poop every day.
Androids don’t. Pretty little Hentai girls don’t, and Naruto warriors rule!
I suppose it was inevitable, as the majority of people in America live in concrete jungles, almost hive fashion, that they should take on the characteristics of an herd animal waiting execution.
Just too, too icky for unprotected sex, where is your vibrator when you really need it… and give birth? OMFG! Breast Feed? Waddaya think I yam, a freakin cow?
So… let’s just play at life, keep our hands clean and fingernails tidy and polished, you queer little thing, but, hey, we are independent now with bread in our pockets, so bring on the botox and mascara by the ton, what the hell are high heels for anyway….oh, tits up, chin out, I get it... (not really)
There is something rather earth-shaking buried in this essay, but you will have to dig to find it. If I came out and told you in plain language you would just argue and throw a hissy fit…so why bother….
You have pretty much demasculinized the male and become prissy little yogurt eaters with finicky stomachs and migraines (you need to get laid)
You want everyone to smell the same, no pheromones, please! No alcohol,no tobacco, Pot, eh, who cares, when you get stoned you don’t…
You are living longer than your parents now, but alone, with grammaw and gramps in a nursing or retirement home, borhters and sisters, if any, aunts and uncles, spread far and wide, family is that tv show about a friendly bar or some animated character mimicking family life
You poor, poor things… your life is already over and you don’t even know it.
And no, artificial intelligence is not the answer either… the Chinese batteries are no damned good; you have to be a wallflower to stay plugged in.
Such a life…
Amicus the magnificent…
Actually, ‘Androids’, like, ‘Data’, on TNG, would be more accurate, but I had the alliteration of silly cyborg’s in mind and I’m stickin’ with it.
I suppose my distaste for vegetarians and vegans, (pun intended), who reject the human proclivity for red meat consumption, eating the flesh of animals for sustenance, considered an, ‘ick factor’, by many contemporary left wing pussies and other aberrants, was my first inkling of an hippie originated divergence from the history of man, the meat eating animal. Predator, if you want; top of the food chain, the only critter to survive in any and all climate conditions on earth. (go ahead, pick away…)
For the longest time, I thought super heroes were for children’s entertainment; not so, as grown up irresponsible adults yearn for and immerse themselves in such diversions from real life.
Then, of course, from Wonder Woman, to the Power Puff Girls, or Sailor Moon and such, to Charlie’s Angels and all the Naruto girls, now even split-tails can take leave of their senses and fly and die and be born again to fight some more in that generic dream of being anything but human.
No… it is not the video age of games and films, those are the eggs, the chickens came first and they are and were, the tiny little frightened minds and bodies that rebel from actual physical contact with others, and prefer the fantasy world of fiction to live in.
It is, I say, endemic of an age following the Great Depression, World War Two, and the death of God, which happened in Sartre’s bedroom at two a.m. on a Sunday morning, in the March of a false spring in Marseilles.(with apologies to Charles Darwin…)
But, back to my thesis of little boys and girls wishing to be cyborgs or androids to avoid the messy necessity of being human and having to poop every day.
Androids don’t. Pretty little Hentai girls don’t, and Naruto warriors rule!
I suppose it was inevitable, as the majority of people in America live in concrete jungles, almost hive fashion, that they should take on the characteristics of an herd animal waiting execution.
Just too, too icky for unprotected sex, where is your vibrator when you really need it… and give birth? OMFG! Breast Feed? Waddaya think I yam, a freakin cow?
So… let’s just play at life, keep our hands clean and fingernails tidy and polished, you queer little thing, but, hey, we are independent now with bread in our pockets, so bring on the botox and mascara by the ton, what the hell are high heels for anyway….oh, tits up, chin out, I get it... (not really)
There is something rather earth-shaking buried in this essay, but you will have to dig to find it. If I came out and told you in plain language you would just argue and throw a hissy fit…so why bother….
You have pretty much demasculinized the male and become prissy little yogurt eaters with finicky stomachs and migraines (you need to get laid)
You want everyone to smell the same, no pheromones, please! No alcohol,no tobacco, Pot, eh, who cares, when you get stoned you don’t…
You are living longer than your parents now, but alone, with grammaw and gramps in a nursing or retirement home, borhters and sisters, if any, aunts and uncles, spread far and wide, family is that tv show about a friendly bar or some animated character mimicking family life
You poor, poor things… your life is already over and you don’t even know it.
And no, artificial intelligence is not the answer either… the Chinese batteries are no damned good; you have to be a wallflower to stay plugged in.
Such a life…
Amicus the magnificent…
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