Inside the Brain of a Robot (v1)

Version 1. Notes recovered from robot's corrupted memory.

  1. Pattern mismatch between query and answer.
  2. Traces root problem in query.
  3. Redefines a code in query, expecting to get a redefined answer.
  4. Receives a massive internal attack. Does not compute.
  5. Too tedious (and time-constrained) to explain error. States 1 to 3 in one simple declarative.
  6. No offense meant.
  7. Human nukes robot's processing units. Robot is unstable, rewiring.
  8. Human self-defends. Robot does not attack, does not defend.
  9. Second attack. Robot's programming language is nuked.
  10. Robot assumes to be offended.
  11. Attacker is self-righteous.
  12. Robot apologizes. Ignored.
  13. Sees duel from top view. Robotgasms. Ignored.
  14. Suggests apology in person. Robot brain speaks differently through human mouth. Ignored.
  15. Hint taken as sexual advance?
  16. Robot shuts down.
  17. Reboots. Refreshes error (F5).
  18. Keys in query. Ignored.
  19. Clears memory.
  20. Unplugs processing units.

Internal problem error 1: could not disconnect intranet from attacker.
Internal problem error 2: wear human skin next time.
Internal problem error 3: robot may be beyond repair.

// Dec 2014

The Day the Dinosaurs Died

El Nido, Palawan by Erik Liongoren // see full image

Isa nalang ang kulang.

// Nov 2014

Door's Closed Please Go Away

I understand everything it sickens me.

To keep myself from cutting my throat I am dragging five monkeys to a volcano this weekend. Five, maybe seven. And pray to the universe the volcano, however dormant for aeons, erupts and chokes our lungs with toxic gases.

At least I won't die by myself.

I think I'm going to climb only volcanoes this year. I'll start my own group with a retarded name like UP Volcaneers and we'd chase pre-erupting volcanoes around the Pacific Ring of Fire. In the hopes of watching one erupt up close. And of course, take a selfie with the lava coursing bright orange behind our backs.

After all, we need badass pics before we say good bye. Everybody will remember us as the Volcaneers Who Licked The Lava Of Death or some such lame title. People will make B movies of us, there will be a cult following, a global uprising, World War III. Anarchy, armageddon, the works.

We'll be as notorious as the Nazis--no, more notorious than. But we won't be remembered as Manslaughterers, but as Mindbenders Who Drive Zombies Into The Mouth Of Volcanoes. We will become a legend.

I'm shipping all my books to Mindanao, good riddance. This is the third batch of books to throw away, to give away, in the hopes of uplifting the literacy of mankind. I'm a philanthropic misanthropist like that. In reality I just don't want to see books anymore, to dust them, sort them in shelves, and smell them in nameless ecstasy. They are potent drugs to enlightenment, and enlightenment leads to incredible suffering. I prefer to party.

// Oct 2014