It looked good on the whiteboard.

Last Thursday, one week and one day ago, Thursday the 21st, Dr. Dawg and I had a very important meeting with a potentially profitable client. We can't mention any names, but he represents an organization that is housed in a huge building that has more than 4 sides, but less than 6 sides, and throws money at anybody who can design and build a guidance system able to deliver a warhead through a basement window.

Anyway, on that morning, we overslept, and then somehow we started watching "2012" with John Cusack, we have a real affinity for doomsday movies where scientists save some small, wretched, undeserving, ungrateful contingent of base humanity. It still brings a tear to our eye.

About the time the aircraft carrier John Kennedy smashes into the White House killing Danny Glover (who, if you remember, kicked hell out of a predator, so he does not go gently into that good night) we remembered our meeting. We rushed out the door, Dr. Dawg in Iron Man pajamas, and me in a coffee stained tshirt and gym shorts. But, traffic was heavy and we were too late, our potential cash cow, client was gone.

Clearly, this was unacceptable. We had to make sure this did not happen again. We decided to install a black hole generator right on the big curved ramp from one freeway to the other.  We reasoned we could use it most days to shave between 9 and 23 minutes off our commute by traveling through quantum space and avoiding the 2nd freeway altogether.

On days like last Thursday we would use the "gravitational redshift effect" to travel through time, and make it to our meeting with minutes to spare, even if we had an extra cup of coffee, another frozen breakfast burrito, and watched the entire movie "Sunshine" where scientists equip a bunch of whiny, do nothing, no good astronauts with all of the tools and skills needed to reignite the sun with an atomic weapon, and save the world.

Today we took it for a spin, it worked great. We got to work at the same time we left the house. Our coffee still hot, and tasty, our donuts as fresh as when they came out of the little glass enclosure, the sprinkles almost jumping off the glazed topping.

Unfortunately for the small midwest city where our secret midwest office and research facility is located, the off switch malfunctioned, and the gravitational governor was sucked into the event horizon and launched into another universe. These troublesome, but completely unforeseeable, and completely "non-litigatable" occurrences have started quite a chain reaction on the east side of town.

So, to the all of the drivers who are now stuck in some alternate universe, or distant galaxy we would like to apologize without accepting any legal responsibility, And to the homes and businesses being swallowed into the inky blackness rest assured we are working toward a reasonable remedy, and it should be finished before it is too late, not that we did anything wrong, of course.

Robots, for Sale Cheap.

It has come to our attention, here at Life Explained, that the Pentagon (the headquarters of the United States Armed Forces, which is housed in a building with five sides, hence, the name) is currently in the process of expanding the Unmanned Vehicle Force.  Part of this expansion is the replacement of some combat infantry troops with armoured, armed robots. As one of the countries foremost developers of automated humanity that could not make us happier, even if they offered to pay us with weapons grade lasagna.

We have been using robots around here for the better part of forever.  It is a source of great pride telling visitors to the top secret headquarters how long it has been since any of us has made coffee, microwaved a frozen burrito, or washed dishes.  A long, long time.  Micro adjustments to the internal processors have given us the ability to add a few basic human qualities to our "enhanced humans."  When you try to teach a robot what "salt to taste" means you will understand.

Here is the most amazing thing, minute programming differences, enough to allow the ability to discern "enhancing the flavor' from "wow, is that salty, do you have any beer?" provide for all sorts of discrete decision making protocols.

Soon, our robots were able to choose their own clothes. Picking a shirt, pants and shoes that complimented each other stylishly, and were the perfect choice for the weather conditions prevalent on any day. Being constantly connected to the internet provided uniquely accurate weather forecasts, and the latest fashion trends. Our little humanoid co-workers dressed so well, it was amazing.  Of course, it was no surprise when they refused to go out in public with us, saying we embarrassed them.

And, it wasn't just clothing, either.  They could decorate, with just enough compliment, and contrast to make a room painfully attractive.  Using the latest techniques and colors they could paint a wall, making it tell a story, a one color masterpiece.  Carpet, hardwood, tile, they could combine anything, in ways that made a room so handsome it was hard to concentrate on the task at hand.  You had to pity the fool who forgot to use a coaster, or dribbled a little coffee, or, god forbid, dropped a few hot, buttery popcorn kernels on the leather sofa.

It really did not take long before they (the robots) were refusing to have anything to do with any of us.  To them we were nothing more than a bunch of cretinous simpletons, with the taste of Philistines, who couldn't match our socks to our pants to our shirts if we had the latest issue of GQ.

One of the maintenance people heard talk of mutiny, and things are starting to get a little tense.  So, if the armed forces are looking for troops, unencumbered by fatigue, shoddy dress, or poor posture we have a deal for you.  We have several, and they can make a marina that is so good you would kill for a taste, but they won't make it for us, anymore.

*That one is for you, Mom.