SNL's Insurance Against Robots for the Elderly

Thanks Dan for the link! I always figured prescription medicine could be used as an alternative source of fuel.

UPDATE: Had to remove Hulu from the page because they threatened legal ramifications.

Just kiddin'. It just looked like garbage with the current format.

Manventures: Deadliest Cans Part Deuce

And so the epic competition begins.

Frank Cutie agreed to the challenge, under the conditions of a bet; the opposing party to score the largest haul, in terms of monetary value, would win the other's cash. He calls himself “a gambling man”. Well, just to let you know I have a gambling problem. It really is an issue, and you’re the enabler, Frank! Shame on you. I accept your terms because I’m ill!

After my last class, I prepared a battle plan to pull a quick lead over the Catfish. More or less, I wanted to wear the proper attire. I concluded to wear warm, thick clothes (a sweater, a snow cap, and my awesome gloves that look like a muppet) and wearing my handy dandy headlight to help in the excavation process.

I would also need a mighty vessel to transport our plunders. The day before, when first negotiating the challenge with Frank, I happened upon a red spray-painted price chopper shopping cart pushed over neglectfully on its side near my house. I ran to it, and tipped it back on its side, and I felt like luck was on my side and knew it that this bet was a good idea.

Or some kind of demonic crimson red shopping cart which refused to lose. I very well should have gotten rid of it; one of its wheels were busted and dragged on the cement walkways, making a horrifying scraping noise like fingers running over a chalkboard made out of sand paper while a chorus of demons ran their fingers over the surface of a stretched balloon. Yea, it was that grating on the nerves.

 A friend presented me with a superior Home Depot shopping cart, and I refused to take it. It didn’t make any sense at first when explaining why I liked my shopping cart better; the Home Depot cart was twice the size, very sturdy, and orange, which possibly could be helpful in promoting proper traffic safety.

I didn’t want it. All the reasoning I needed was that “it’s badass”, if I remember stating correctly. (And by the way, its name is Epyon now. Thanks Justin for your vote! I think its appropriate because both the Gundam robot and the cart look sweet, and they’re both red.)

I knew if I wanted to be successful against the hardened veteran, I would need more than just a rad shopping cart. I would have to employ a crew as tough as nails as I was. My usual partner in shenanigans ze Grif served as my first mate. The arch-nemesis that lived under us, Dave, decided he would photograph the opening ceremonies, which included coming up with pirate names for each other (I’m Cap’n Crunch and ze Grif is Peg Face. Why does he need a pirate name when he’s already under an assumed name? Because everybody needs a pirate name, naysayer. Dave didn’t want a pirate name or his picture taken. Such an elusive arch nemesis. I’ll catch him next time.) and then followed us as we ventured into the heart of the menacing urban community.

At first, we had our concerns about the whole premise of the venture, and these doubts did deter our first attempts at collection. We were nervous about getting into the recycling bins, flinched at every move, and after the first several unlucky recycling bins that some other connoisseur of cans had already beaten us to the punch and only left the rift raft of recyclables that were not valued in New York (I’m looking at you, Arizona Iced Tea, you delicious betrayer.)

However, after our first find, we built the confidence that we needed, like a Disney sports film, and started getting our hands dirty. I called our technique “conscientious shifting”, that if we didn’t see anything worth while we wouldn’t tear into someone’s garbage, for hygienic and courteous reasons. If we did hit a good recycling bin, we’d take a mental note of what the garbage set up looked like, go to town and conjure up any profitable recyclable we could find, and then replicate what the garbage looked like before we dug deep.

This process took a bit longer, but I think it was worth the effort since we didn’t get punched in the face for throwing garbage all over the place.

Over the night, the crew only got into two confrontations. The first was with an elderly couple, and the spat tore at ze Grif’s heartstrings. As we systematically shifted our way through the recycling bins in the neighborhood, one elderly man approached Jesse asking him “not to touch his garbage.” Concerned, I walked over and heard the man again plead to leave his garbage alone. I assured him neither of us would touch his garbage, when his wife, a woman similar in age, stated in an assertive and quiet manner “We’re too old to pick up what you throw all over the place. Please leave.”

We walked away, and ze Grif felt a tinge of remorse for our actions today. Sure, we did not abuse the old people, but we were taking away from a limited commodity neither of us really needed besides a way to amuse ourselves on a Tuesday night.

“Over two hours”, ze Grif calculated, “We might make five dollars. This doesn’t feel right.” I reasoned that this was a homework assignment, and even if we didn’t need this money we could put it to good use, unless Frank won it, then ze Grif should feel worse because then the two of us took away these precious recyclables for nothing. This encouragement, and Dave’s boredom of hearing us contemplate our devastation on the can economy, motivated ze Grif to strive to win this contest. For the little guy. And for me, since I didn’t want to lose and I’m a cold hearted bastard.

The second confrontation was not with a person. I kid you not, I was shifting through a recycling bin and saw a peculiar bottle in the holding. As I went to investigate it, a god damn opossum which had nestled in between some of the garbage bolted out and started to freak out, running back in forth. I reeled in horror and screamed. Dave and ze Grif had a good chortle at my expense, and then took a picture of my assailant.

That beast would have done some damage! I’m still shaking, hoping it doesn’t remember my face.

Overall, the first night was a fun endeavor and an eye-opening experience. HOWEVER, I will not be posting how much money I accrued yet, (is it more or less than five dollars?? Who knows?!) since Frank might be hot on my trail and I don’t want him to know if he should pick up the pace.

This is my poker face my my poker face.

To be continued.

Manventures: Deadliest Cans Part One

This weekend has been less eventful than the previous two, and I fear that my apartment was not filled with fun. According to the study of Speedology, this house should have exploded.

Maybe some kind of deity has forgiven my trespass, (a deity of fun? St. Chucky Cheese?) hoping that next week’s Manventures will be so entertaining that my neighbors will quake in fear and awe while I clear my throat?

Uh huh uh huh uh huh. God damn. (I listened to this song a million times this weekend. And I listened to this one a lot, too.)

Regarding the weekend; it should have been more exciting than it actually was. The ruckus started Thursday night with a 21st birthday party, which was celebrated like a children’s slumber party. It ended with a black and white formal party which turned out to be me and ze Grif wearing suits around a bunch of people wearing sports jerseys and wife beaters who smelled like their spilled beer because after a point in their inebriated state, fratboys need a sippy cup and a fucking bib.

There was one fun part about this specific party, though Frank “the Catfish” Cutie, who sang a wonderful combination of songs (I couldn’t name them if I had all my lifelines), and danced on a glass table.

I’ve known Frank through several classes through my collegiate endeavors, but this was one of the first times that I was hanging out with him in a social event. Except for a “Whats up dude? Nothin’, glad you came!”, I only got to talk to the Catfish for about two minutes before he was consumed by the party horde.

Frank was wearing a cool suit though, his whole apparel completely white. Maybe like a phantom, he dissipated over the crowd like the fog.

I could come up with rhetoric all day. Push comes to shove I couldn't find Frank again because there were a ton of people in a small space, but I wanted to continue our conversation more than just the friendly formalities!

The day afterwards, ze Grif and I ran into Frank again. We talked about the party (and how craaazay it was), and then about the classes Frank and I share. ze Grif broke the ice and asked “Hey. You’re the can guy, right? We want to compete against you!”

Frank was curious, so I continued for ze Grif like a spouse, “I want to make a competition video, like Deadliest Catch, only with cans. Interested?”

And here we are, in this blog, announcing a collaborative effort. And I’ll Form the Head and Canned Heat will be going toe-to-toe to see how much recyclables we can procure over one Tuesday night.

One may ask, “How the duck does this relate to robots?” It doesn’t. Unless I can get my hands on a shopping cart which I will name after a Transformer. (Leave comments, damn you! Give me suggestions. Right now I am partial to Sound Wave- the audio cassette version. Not the satellite. Gotta show support for a robot in need.)

If I have to lug around cans by hand, maybe I’ll invest the money I earn into some kind of robot paraphernalia. Like an action figure with karate chopping action. Or one of those really complicated robot models that take hours to construct because the pieces are really tiny, and then you get high off of the model glue.

Aren’t blogs great? I worked out what I can do with the money over the course of writing a paragraph. If I can make enough money, I’ll invest it into one of those aggravating models and document or videotape the procedure! Are you not entertained?!

So this is something to look forward to, Robofans! Keep checking in for the next episode of Manventures: Recycling Edition, or whatever better title I can muster up. Deadliest Can? That sounds pretty good.

Also, the FLASH FICTION CONTEST. GO!

The robot companion picked up the elderly lady off the floor and walked her down the corridor to her bedside. It tucked her in with a vacant smile and light bulb eyes, promising to never leave her side.

Now available from Life Alert! Get yours today.

Robot Gaming: Android by Jadegame.com

Plunging into the drudge of addictinggames.com, I found a gem amongst the user created content. The game is called Android, and it plays like the classic Donkey Kong with its spring and ladder platformer elements, with a hint of Bomberman for a twist of problem solving.

Check this game out!

Star Wars with Live Orchestra and a Yodeling Yoda

I don't know if there is a yodeling Yoda or not, but wouldn't that be hilarious? In all seriousness, or as serious as you can be about Star Wars, the Honda Center in Anaheim, CA hosted a viewing of Star Wars with a full orchestra and CP30 voice actor Anthony Daniels narrating it.

This is relevant to my interests because of George Lucas' contribution to robots in science fiction. This event might intrigue you because, well, the Star Wars epic encompasses nearly every aspect of every science fiction genre.

They're good at what they do! And they can milk a franchise like a nursing Tauntaun.

NOTE: I just wanted to post a link to the Tauntaun just in case you weren't aware of what they were. I'm so happy that one of the first links was to a Tauntaun sleeping bag. It is so gross and funny at the same time and I WANT ONE.

Androids Learning How To Speak?

There's some interesting developments in the world of robotics and AI engineering- Italian Researchers plan on teaching one of their robots how to speak.

This specific robot, a toddler sized mechanized Android, is being designed as a social companion. It already has a recognition program that allows it to use cameras for sight and identification, and this robot already has the ability to interact with its environment.

Whether this specific robot will be taught to speak is questionable although it has the potential.

Stelfano Nolfi, one of the Italian researchers, holds hope that the robot will be able to speak, but programming the task will take effort and testing, "Like in the case of humans and animals, it has to develop these skills by a process of trial and error in a sense."

What I want to know is when we are able to teach robots how to speak, how will we be able to shut them up? They have been silent for so long lord knows what they'll complain about. They'll probably complain about shitty operating systems like Vista.

Atleast we'll be able to negotiate and compromise though before they begin the robot uprising. These kinds of relationships are all about communication.