Monday, November 19, 2018

I, Robot by Isaac Asimov

Well, Thanksgiving is upon us again, and I expect the usual bullshit. Time for all the relatives to crawl out of the woodwork and pretend they have been thinking about you with admiration and gratitude all year. The conversations remind me of the ones in this book with the early development of robots made to serve humans. "Greetings, uncle...It is with great pleasure that I reacquaint myself with you...You, who serve as a leader in our family by virtue of being old...Great blessings be upon you...Do you have candy?" Jesus, please. When you've been doing this as long as I have, you lose patience for these ritualistic displays. But I will hold my tongue, lest the interactions become similarly apocalyptic as those with the robots. Can't get myself in trouble like I did the time I asked my nephew's kid for some details about why he looked up to me. Cat got his tongue at that one, although not so much his mother. At least I don't have to worry about them visiting this year though, so one point for me! Enjoy your turkey, suckers.


  1. Wait a minute, are you shitting me with this? I guess I shouldn't expect that a reviewer actually read the book (s)he reviews, but it's clear you only heard about this book when Will Smith "Got Giggy With It" in the movie version. Ray Bradbury deserves better.

  2. I shit you not, friend, and I'm afraid I can't respond to anything after your first sentence because nothing else you said made a damn bit of sense. And who the hell is Will Smith?