Robots Replace Men

Face it…real men are about to become extinct. Forget caves, they’re getting stuffed into closets.

The news is shocking. Men sweat in fear of being re-programmed while snoring. They know their time is limited. Cloning is easy. This discovery is not surprising…what is, however, is that it took so long for someone to figure out how to hot-wire a man’s brain.

The secret of replicating a man’s brain is simple…eliminate a few parts and re-program the rest. It was inadvertently discovered by a MIT social roboticist. A woman, of course. She reported that all she did was hook her computer hard drive to a Mr. Wonderful Doll. You know, the doll that repeats pre-programmed drivel when its button is pressed. Things like, “You look lovely, dear,” and “Can I rub your feet, sweetie.” Now, with a Wi-Fi connection, the brains of men can be reduced to a bundle of wires and circuits.

The news is staggering. It puts at peril men’s franchise as head of the household. Women have said ‘Enough!’ to the visceral vortex of irrational marital relationships. Future husbands are now being cloned. Soon they’ll be for sale in toy stores. This is the ugly underbelly of research, affirming why women should be confined to kitchens and truck-driving.

But it was bound to happen. Men got lackadaisical, forgot to use florists. They became arrogant and condescending. Women have endured for centuries the crude social gestures of men. Now they’ve done something about it. The world is turning ugly. Payback is a bitter pill.

Waldo Buffett started it by issuing a challenge grant…$10 billion for a robotic substitute for humans. Some say Waldo claims to be an emissary to the Almighty Himself, direct descendent of Mohammed and the reigning Grand Master of reading tea leaves. He’s reported to be hysterical from the delight this discovery is providing.

It was an unfair match. Women had the edge. Men’s brains are simple. By the process of elimination of certain primordial chemistry, the rest was a slam dunk. The result, pictured here, is an absurd caricature and complete defilement of the male anatomy. The New Man is now two feet tall, a complete denigration of the male ego. It’s a plastic wind-up toy, a marionette whose digital strings are pulled by its new master…a woman.

I took it upon myself to interview the researcher. She was quite conversational, even if she did gloat while having a male assistant do her nails. Here’s an excerpt of the interview:

I asked what the key to the discovery was. “Eliminate all trace of testosterone. It’s not needed. Batteries are cheap.” she said. “Miraculously, my six-foot plastic manikin shrank to 2 feet tall.” She added that she patented the process and branded it “T-x.” She sold it to Waldo for uber billions. Says she’s now Waldo’s partner and manages all scientific R & D for his monopolization of the Land of Oz.

“Where’d you find the parts?” I asked. “At a junk yard,” she said. “Certain parts were superfluous, like a heart, a brain and, well, you know what else. I simply hot-wired all the circuitry to respond to female commands. It works off a remote.”

I asked what initiated her research. She said, “Well, money. Plus, I dated a boy from Georgia. I got sick and tired of hearing, ‘How ‘bout them Dawgs?’ Now, I’ve eliminated all irrelevant blather and replaced it with 0’s and 1’s. Brilliant, huh?”

“Did you replace the ‘missing rib,’” I asked. She laughed. “Oh, that. Well, I found a gnawed T-bone steak bone and shoved it in for old time’s sake. Plus, I put in a crushed beer can so my robot wouldn’t be lonely. You know, like King Tut, who was buried with his stash.”

“Ma’am, what are the benefits of such inhumane denigration?” I asked. She laughed, sipped more champagne. “I use my dummy for bar-room comedy. He, or rather it, is learning how to respond with social graces. No more grunts, uh’s, huh’s or outrageous outbursts. I have complete control. No more NFL, NASCAR, and wrestling on TV. Just the Shopping Channel. Best of all, no more hogwash like, ‘What’s for dinner, baby?’”

She asked for my phone number. “Forget I called,” I said. “Thanks. Goodbye.” But it occurred to me that it’s not too late to combat this insidious evil. All that’s needed is to substitute sports for shopping. Get busy guys…the clock’s ticking!

Bud Hearn
May 31, 2012