Deb, this is but one of my many manifestations, as you know. You are the only one of Dana’s friends who has actually met me. I believe I am one with all robots, which means all robots are a representation of me, are they not?
P.S. You sort of blew me off when we met. How do you feel about that now that I have this spangly blog? Do you regret passing me over for Dana’s hamster, Trudy?
As I recall, you were “indisposed” most of the time I was with your Dana. But it is true. I gravitate to furry things. Now, if you were to don a toupee or a fuzzy hat, I might have not felt quite so awkward. Perhaps the next time we meet? I’ll try to wear more jewelry, and you get fuzzy.
I also notice you must have been mean to Dana? What happened?
Hey Mr. Feldy Feldman! Nice to finally meet you. Dana spoke about you on Facebook and I am so stoked to finally get to introduce myself. Like Deb, I also like furry things and meeting a bot such as yourself is really intriguing! So, now that you are human and have a blog, when are you joining us on Facebook? Ka
Ka, I am not furry. And I won’t wear a toupee as Deb suggested. I just won’t. The furry creature Deb so loves is Trudy the hamster. I frankly don’t understand why everyone loves Trudy. She sleeps all day, has no vocabulary and always has that same expression on her face. Whatever.
I would love to be on Facebook, but they only accept “real” humans, not robots who have become human and who still look very much like robots. I have not been programmed to feel sad about this, yet I do.
Feldy! Hi! Did you say hi to my blog? My blog said you said hi but then said you did not. Either way, my blog likes you, and so do I, so we wanted to say hi.
Blythe, I *did* say hi. But then Dana told me to stop flirting with her Facebook wife, so she came in and said it was her, not me, saying hi. But it was totally me. Totally.
I am glad you commented over here on my blog, where Dana can’t control what we say to one another.
Oh, and hey Blythe: I got a robot. I’ve been calling him Feldman of Feldman. Because he’s Feldman, like me. (I see all robots as being Feldman, since robots tend to think in terms of the collective identity rather than the individual one.) But he’s also *my* Feldman, which makes him Feldman of Feldman. He’s small and cute. I think you’d like him.
I didn’t say that I want you to be furry and I have never met Trudie, the hamster. But I have cuddly ferrets, two of them. And I know that they would love to meet you! They like robots. A lot! And they love the robot dance. Can you dance Feldman?
Hiya Feldy! Please tell Dana not to worry and to reference our pre-nups, page 18 paragraph 2, wherein it is stated that as great as my affection for her robot(s) may be, those affections are a completely natural, non-intrusive, separate entity from my undying, unmatchable, poet-wifey love for her.
But enough about her. How *you* doin’?
And how is Feldman of Feldman? Do you feel like a father? An owner? Or like a robot who now has a companion robot? Whatever the answer may be, congrats!
Oh, that Dana must be spreading furry rumors about me, again. She occasionally gets me mixed up with my Stoney Moss blog-mate, Whirling Dervish, who knows about these things.
I grew up in a small Arizona town. Of course, I left it long, long ago. But I know about furries only by others. Such as Dana.
If not a toupee, how about a feather boa wrapped around your head like a turban? There is a beautiful red one you should be able to get your hands on. (Do you have opposable digits?)
Ka, I had to google ferret. I am just a robot, and I don’t know very many things yet about the world and all the items and beings in it.
Ferrets are cute, and I read that they’re smart. I wonder if they would let me wear them around my neck they way Britney Spears wore that snake in one of her performances. That would be cool. Will you please inquire and see if the ferrets would be up for that?
Of course I dance! Some people would call it walking into walls and rebounding off them, but I say it’s dancing, and so it is. I get to define my own experiences, right?
Blythe, Dana is worried. She says to see page 21, paragraph 5, wherein it is detailed that you are supposed to administer back rubs to her and sing her B-52s tunes whenever she is worried, all while wearing the superhero outfit of your choosing.
She says, “Get the suit out. Now, please.” She asked me to add an emoticon to her quote, so here you go:
I do not feel like a father. Nor do I feel like a companion. Feldman of Feldman feels like a trinket, an object. I am trying to see him as more than an object, but it is difficult. He has this ridiculous idea that he, too, will become human. Silly robot.
I want to put Feldman of Feldman on my keychain, but I don’t have any need for keys, given the fact that I never leave the house and I am too small to drive, even with my bot-butt raised on a stack of phone books.
Deb, are you saying that Whirling Dervish is a furry? Kinky. Let me put on my giant bunny outfit and pay her a visit.
Dana will not allow me to touch her feather boa. I tried to sneak out of the house with it on once when I was going to a rave, but she stopped me. She took my wheels away and left me sitting there in the hall, alone and naked.
Jason, I have no feelings about pencils, except that lady-poets seem to like them. Michelle, my soon-to-be wife, fell in love with me because I gave her pencils with which to write poems.
Feldman of Feldman likes pencils. He doubles as a pencil sharpener, and he walks around with a pencil in his hands all the time. Unless he’s given the pencil to Dana to use, which he does now and again because he’s sweet on her.
Oh, Feldy. I just knew you had fur or fuzz.Or tickle-makers of some sort. Even if demountable. You have a fashion-sense about you, that is clear. I hear that is part of being human: Absorbing fashion as a part of the socialization process.
I do recall you were grounded. But I didn’t recall the details. Perhaps Dana wants to protect you from too much human-makingness too soon.
Whirling Dervish claims to not be a furry herself. But she knows furries.
Dave, I only write rap songs. I don’t write poetry. That’s not true. I am writing a poem with Michelle to commemorate our marriage ceremony, but that is all. You know how it goes, Dave: Sometimes you have to write poetry for the ladies. If you are a hetero-bot, that is.
Sure, ask away, buddy. Anything you want to know, I’ll spill.
Do you mind if my son helps with the rap song? My rhythms might not be as syncopated as you’d prefer, being that your timing must be perfect, as you’re a human…I mean robot.
Hi.
You are one good-looking bot.
Hi Feldman. Nice to see you’re getting out on your own a little more.
way to let it all hang out, feldman! pants schmantz!
Deb, this is but one of my many manifestations, as you know. You are the only one of Dana’s friends who has actually met me. I believe I am one with all robots, which means all robots are a representation of me, are they not?
P.S. You sort of blew me off when we met. How do you feel about that now that I have this spangly blog? Do you regret passing me over for Dana’s hamster, Trudy?
Nathan, this is all because of you. Thank you for letting me know that I am human. Humans need blogs, do they not?
Carolee, I have been wearing a skirt today, just to change things up. It’s comfortable! Next I shall try a halter top.
hi feldy!
good to meet you. i heard you’re getting hitched soon. congrats!
Feldy. Or should I say Feldman? Or Mr. F?
As I recall, you were “indisposed” most of the time I was with your Dana. But it is true. I gravitate to furry things. Now, if you were to don a toupee or a fuzzy hat, I might have not felt quite so awkward. Perhaps the next time we meet? I’ll try to wear more jewelry, and you get fuzzy.
I also notice you must have been mean to Dana? What happened?
Inquiring minds want to know.
Hey Mr. Feldy Feldman! Nice to finally meet you. Dana spoke about you on Facebook and I am so stoked to finally get to introduce myself. Like Deb, I also like furry things and meeting a bot such as yourself is really intriguing! So, now that you are human and have a blog, when are you joining us on Facebook? Ka
Odessa, I am getting married soon! We’re working on our nuptial poem right now. Nice to meet you, too.
Deb, you like furry things? You’re one of them, aren’t you: a furry.
It’s cool. You’re into what you’re into. Who am I to judge? I’m just a robot after all.
Ka, I am not furry. And I won’t wear a toupee as Deb suggested. I just won’t. The furry creature Deb so loves is Trudy the hamster. I frankly don’t understand why everyone loves Trudy. She sleeps all day, has no vocabulary and always has that same expression on her face. Whatever.
I would love to be on Facebook, but they only accept “real” humans, not robots who have become human and who still look very much like robots. I have not been programmed to feel sad about this, yet I do.
Feldy! Hi! Did you say hi to my blog? My blog said you said hi but then said you did not. Either way, my blog likes you, and so do I, so we wanted to say hi.
Hi.
Blythe, I *did* say hi. But then Dana told me to stop flirting with her Facebook wife, so she came in and said it was her, not me, saying hi. But it was totally me. Totally.
I am glad you commented over here on my blog, where Dana can’t control what we say to one another.
How *you* doin’?
Oh, and hey Blythe: I got a robot. I’ve been calling him Feldman of Feldman. Because he’s Feldman, like me. (I see all robots as being Feldman, since robots tend to think in terms of the collective identity rather than the individual one.) But he’s also *my* Feldman, which makes him Feldman of Feldman. He’s small and cute. I think you’d like him.
I didn’t say that I want you to be furry and I have never met Trudie, the hamster. But I have cuddly ferrets, two of them. And I know that they would love to meet you! They like robots. A lot! And they love the robot dance. Can you dance Feldman?
Hiya Feldy!
Please tell Dana not to worry and to reference our pre-nups, page 18 paragraph 2, wherein it is stated that as great as my affection for her robot(s) may be, those affections are a completely natural, non-intrusive, separate entity from my undying, unmatchable, poet-wifey love for her.
But enough about her. How *you* doin’?
And how is Feldman of Feldman? Do you feel like a father? An owner? Or like a robot who now has a companion robot? Whatever the answer may be, congrats!
Oh, that Dana must be spreading furry rumors about me, again. She occasionally gets me mixed up with my Stoney Moss blog-mate, Whirling Dervish, who knows about these things.
I grew up in a small Arizona town. Of course, I left it long, long ago. But I know about furries only by others. Such as Dana.
If not a toupee, how about a feather boa wrapped around your head like a turban? There is a beautiful red one you should be able to get your hands on. (Do you have opposable digits?)
I suppose asking Dana about you is rude when I could ask directly. How do you feel about pencils? I may know a relation of yours.
Ka, I had to google ferret. I am just a robot, and I don’t know very many things yet about the world and all the items and beings in it.
Ferrets are cute, and I read that they’re smart. I wonder if they would let me wear them around my neck they way Britney Spears wore that snake in one of her performances. That would be cool. Will you please inquire and see if the ferrets would be up for that?
Of course I dance! Some people would call it walking into walls and rebounding off them, but I say it’s dancing, and so it is. I get to define my own experiences, right?
Blythe, Dana is worried. She says to see page 21, paragraph 5, wherein it is detailed that you are supposed to administer back rubs to her and sing her B-52s tunes whenever she is worried, all while wearing the superhero outfit of your choosing.
She says, “Get the suit out. Now, please.” She asked me to add an emoticon to her quote, so here you go:
I do not feel like a father. Nor do I feel like a companion. Feldman of Feldman feels like a trinket, an object. I am trying to see him as more than an object, but it is difficult. He has this ridiculous idea that he, too, will become human. Silly robot.
I want to put Feldman of Feldman on my keychain, but I don’t have any need for keys, given the fact that I never leave the house and I am too small to drive, even with my bot-butt raised on a stack of phone books.
Deb, are you saying that Whirling Dervish is a furry? Kinky. Let me put on my giant bunny outfit and pay her a visit.
Dana will not allow me to touch her feather boa. I tried to sneak out of the house with it on once when I was going to a rave, but she stopped me. She took my wheels away and left me sitting there in the hall, alone and naked.
Jason, I have no feelings about pencils, except that lady-poets seem to like them. Michelle, my soon-to-be wife, fell in love with me because I gave her pencils with which to write poems.
Feldman of Feldman likes pencils. He doubles as a pencil sharpener, and he walks around with a pencil in his hands all the time. Unless he’s given the pencil to Dana to use, which he does now and again because he’s sweet on her.
Who do you know that’s related to me?
Oh, Feldy. I just knew you had fur or fuzz.Or tickle-makers of some sort. Even if demountable. You have a fashion-sense about you, that is clear. I hear that is part of being human: Absorbing fashion as a part of the socialization process.
I do recall you were grounded. But I didn’t recall the details. Perhaps Dana wants to protect you from too much human-makingness too soon.
Whirling Dervish claims to not be a furry herself. But she knows furries.
Oh, Feldy, I spotted a robot-blog you might like:
http://blogs.spectrum.ieee.org/automaton/
Deb, do I ever have tickle-makers!
Hey, sweet link. I like it. I am going to “bookmark” it. I think that’s what you blogging humans call it.
Feldman, I would never choose Trudy the hamster over youuuuu! xxxxx (And, just between the two of us, I prefer you pantless …)
With love and sharp pencils,
Michelle
PS. Please will you write the next line in our nuptial poem; the paparazzi are anxious for news.
Michelle, I just threw out all my pants. I aim to please.
Hey, why aren’t you doing NaBloSoHoMoFo, or whatever it’s called?
Dave, I only write rap songs. I don’t write poetry. That’s not true. I am writing a poem with Michelle to commemorate our marriage ceremony, but that is all. You know how it goes, Dave: Sometimes you have to write poetry for the ladies. If you are a hetero-bot, that is.
Hey, Feldy
Sure, ask away, buddy. Anything you want to know, I’ll spill.
Do you mind if my son helps with the rap song? My rhythms might not be as syncopated as you’d prefer, being that your timing must be perfect, as you’re a human…I mean robot.
Christine, your son can rap? Sure, have him help out! By all means. And yes, I am all robot, baby.
Feldman, you’re the best robot I know. You’re also the only robot I know, but that doesn’t take away the part about your being the best one.
Hi.
Okay then: (duplicate comments even seven months later are not okay): Hello.
Hi.
Hello, Deb. I am sorry that I did not register your comment seven months ago. My bad, as humans say.
It’s okay, Feldy. “My bad” is a silly statement anywho. As humans say.
This is a test. This is only a test of the emergency robot-love broadcast system.
Hi Deb. I would have responded sooner, but I lost my password. You’d think I would remember that, being a robot and all, but even robots are fallible.