THE DAILY ROBOT

I know, I know, it is lame to just put up an unfinished pencil sketch, but hear me out.  I was busy this evening - I spent an enormous amount of time working on a poster for an event that is occurring this weekend.  I know a lot of Americans celebrate Independence Day by watching fireworks or grilling red meat (one does not preclude the other, I guess), but I’ve taken to devoting the day to action movie marathons.  I think that is all the explanation necessary for this:

Let me tell you a story:  Today it was nearly 100 degrees, which is not necessarily a remarkable fact in some parts of the country (Death Valley I’m looking at you) but, for the Greater Boston Area, achieving a temperature in the 90’s is a kind of accomplishment.  Unfortunately, it’s the kind that makes everyone feel gross and terrible because in addition to a high temperature there is also an enormous degree of humidity so everyone winds up looking like they just took a shower but smelling like they just didn’t take a shower for a week.  Listen: it’s now like 11p.m. and it’s still over 80 degrees outside, heat index notwithstanding, so you’ll have to excuse the fact that this robot is just a photograph of a quick sketch which also features a cold glass of beer (beer I got specifically because it was so hot today) sitting on a table next to a computer that was running too hot because of the weather.

The picture is of a robot who is too hot, so it is looking at a fan.  GOODNIGHT.

Here’s yesterday’s robot in new-and-improved mode.  If this looks familiar, it’s because it’s a sequel to Robot 195.  I would write more, but I’m watching Tango And Cash and it’s at the best part (any moment of it).

This came for me in the mail today from Carmel, who you may or may not remember from our rapidly-abandoned attempt at movie-review-blogging.  A note that accompanied this robot alludes to the fact that it had been in her possession for “literally” years, awaiting its transfer-of-ownership to me.  I do not know why someone would consciously deprive me of a robot, but let me make this clear to anyone reading this who might currently be harboring a robot they plan on bestowing upon me at some point in the future: do not wait, give me all the robots.

P.S. what I mean to say is, thank you very much Carmel for this robot, it is awesome. 

Also, for people who like weird technology happenings, I took this picture a little before 11p.m. EST, but my digital camera’s internal clock is two hours ahead of Actual Time, so this is what the image file’s metadata looked like when I first loaded it onto my computer, proving that - like so many things on this website - the future is Now.

So, I took the day off from work and headed over to the nearby Radioshack to pick up the new iPhone.  That is, in itself, not interesting, but hang on - just now I used it as a mouse to draw this robot.  So there you have it, an enormously complicated piece of technology utilized to do the job that simpler, cheaper pieces of equipment have been doing for over two decades.

oh well.

Also I shipped out all the Ray Gun prints that people ordered, so watch your mailboxes, and if you want one they’re here.

It seems like I’ve been doing a really poor job of updating regularly.  Is it just me?  It’s probably not just me who feels like that.  Enough about that though.

  I’d like to thank the folks that ordered the new print - it should ship tomorrow barring any unforeseen Problems (you know how life is).  If you haven’t already, check it out along with the other stuff available at the store.

I was going to do some more with this, but then it turned out that I didn’t.  Maybe tomorrow?  Who knows. 

But listen, here is the important part: you can order the new Awesome Ray Gun Print from Etsy.  People seemed pretty interested in this, so maybe it will be the first-ever successful poster?  We’ll see.

p.s. If you want one but don’t feel like setting up an account with Etsy then just throw me $18 via the Paypal donation button located on the right-hand side of this page.  Include your Address in whatever field they give you for such things (notes? whatever - I’ll get ahold of you if I don’t know where to send the Thing).

Guess who was too busy being at work and then taking a nap and then seeing Toy Story 3 to spend hours on a robot.

Me (it was me). In other non-surprising news, it was a good movie.

by Mo Martin

They say now, it has bones and blood, like us and the animals. They used to say, when I was a young man, that it was a powerful spirit of vengeance, that served this tribe to protect us from the animal spirits that had killed it. But when I was a boy, my grandfather and I came upon it in the woods, and its bones were revealed, and they shined like the sun, and sparked like lightning. It would not move. My grandfather said to set the bones like we would a man. When we did, the bones fit together as if they had never been apart, but then a great shock ran through me, like the shock of the boar as it dies and its spirit leaves, running up the spear. Then we covered it in hides to smother the lightning, and it still wears those hides today, though they are tattered. So I have seen its bones, and I have felt its spirit, so even though I am now the Wise man, I do not know what to think. I say, it is our protector, and call it by its ancient name, Ro-Bot, and leave it at that.

Here it is, etc etc etc, I wasted all my time this evening making a bizarre stab into the world of Tumblrs, so forgive me if I don’t feel like making any sense for awhile.

by Mo Martin

The first thing it wrote was, “Why can’t I talk?”
And everybody laughed. A joke from the programmers! While everyone was amazed that they’d created the dexterity to write in a human-style, the machine would complain petulantly that it couldn’t talk yet. Hilarious!
But it wasn’t so funny when it repeated the line, over and over, covering the page, began to write over itself, making an incomprehensible mass of squiggles. Now this was getting embarrassing for the Company. Finally, someone half-joked back, “Because who cares what you have to say?”
The machine stopped writing. It stood up, another miracle of engineering. Then walked down the stairs of the technology display, another massively expensive process. And then it ran, which nobody thought it could, which shouldn’t have been possible. But it ran and ran. And nobody knows where it is now. What a waste.

Remember that Ray Gun design I showed you last week sometime?  No?  Shut up, yes you do:

Listen: I plan on making some prints of this, but before I do I need an idea of how many people would even Want Such A Thing - in the past I have made product demand judgment errors, and as a result have a house full of posters nobody wants, so I’m trying to keep this situation from getting any worse.  Here is what you can do to help me:

1. let me know (either in the comments section or via email - see my blogger profile for an email link) if this honestly interests you
2. show other people who like to hang shit on their walls, gauge their reactions, direct them here.
3. if you work for or in a Hip Location that features awesome Wall Art let the powers that be know.

 I am very proud of this piece, and the fact that it lacks any kind of Robot Specificity perhaps broadens its appeal, but we’ll see.

UPDATE in response to the Response I’ve received.

1. This will definitely happen
2. It will either be 11”x17” or Bigger, but likely the former since nobody wants to pay for huge posters
3. Maybe I will sell framed versions
4. Thanks for your feedback, feel free to add more.

Because I didn’t feel like dealing with any more than part of a Whole today.

Sorry to not update for a few days. Also, “Big fake smiles” is the answer to the question “what is the best tool at your disposal when it comes to functioning in society?”

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by Mo Martin

It was an accident, but no, I don’t feel bad about killing Maddox. If you can call it killing. He was practically dead already. We all fought to survive, but some of us who made it through, didn’t make it through, you know that. Hell, I almost didn’t make it through. Wife dead of cancer, kids dead from the machines, all my friends too, or ran off in the first weeks of panic. I felt numb for the months I spent alone, just walking, hiding, taking out a virus-infected machine where I could. But as soon as I met other survivors I felt alive again. Just seeing human faces, living human faces. Even Maddox made me glad to be alive, when I met him. But he was a dead man standing. Something had snapped inside him long ago. Maybe from people he lost. Maybe he was just one of the men waiting for the Virus, so they could go as crazy as the world got. Carrying that disabled head around with him, replacing the speaker box with those pebbles he’d paint. Called it “Smiley” talked to it like it was his best friend, and his worst enemy. Let’s face it, it creeped us all out, fucking “Smiley” and the weird way he got off on taking down the machines. You remember what I’m talking about. That look he’d get in his eyes. I mean, we were all glad to be alive after a skirmish, but remember Maddox’s stupid little dance he’d do? And always with “Smiley.” Did I ever tell you Smiley was the same model that killed my kids? I saw it too, hiding behind a door, God forgive me. So I really hated that thing. So one day it comes around the corner, and it says, “I’m here to finish the job.” It was like a nightmare. I didn’t take time to notice the colored pebble teeth, or remember the machines don’t talk. So I shot. And then there was the blood. But I didn’t let it bother me when I figured it out. What kind of person does that to one of us now? Who among us would taunt another about the people they lost? Maddox was a bastard, and I’m glad I killed him. Does that count as a guilty plea?

This guy’s all well and good, but Here’s What I Really Want to Show Off

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by Mo Martin

Nowhere in the blue prints does it show malice. Disassemble it and you will find no hint of murderous rage. Cruelty can’t be found in its programmings. But they’re all there.

Maybe it is lame to recycle, adding only color and textures to recent work, but 1) I really liked yesterday’s robot, and 2) it seems that all I’m even capable of thinking about today is making things that look like this.  Proof below:

This little guy is made entirely out of pieces of diagrams from some old manuals I found a few days ago.

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by Mo Martin

How can it love you with only one eye? It takes all of you in with its unblinking, glowing gaze.
How can it love with only wires, and no heart? It pulses the love through out it.
How can it love, when it has shotguns for arms? It hugs you while the barrels are still warm.

So listen:  due to some time consuming (but exciting/secret) projects that are demanding/deserve more of my per diem free-time, The Daily Robot might enter a sort of power-saving mode, which is to say that for awhile the work that shows up might be less involved that it frequently is, or - on days most dire - old, long-forgotten robots from years past may be presented along with reminders of their existence, and notes pertaining to what made them worthwhile to begin with.  Bear with me, people.

P.S. despite what some sources may lead you to believe, this shift to the backburner is in no way Steven Soderbergh’s fault.

Sorry for being so update-shaky this past weekend.

Any science-people who can somehow divine what these wiring diagrams came from get free…I don’t know, free something.

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by Mo Martin

You were there at the composition of the poetry of my wiring, you are the choreographer of the elegance of my subroutines, the delicate disguiser of my soldering. And yet, when I look at you, and declare, “I am more beautiful than you,” you seem afraid. Why is that?

A new fantastic poster is for sale, it’s bigger than the other ones you’ve seen, and is fantastic:

Get it Here, now or soon.

Guesswhos’tiredandjustdidaquickrobotanddoesn’tfeellikemakingawholebigthingaboutit?

While not specifically robot-related, I feel like the following anecdote is appropriate to this site.  Also, it’s Friday, so I figure I can do whatever I feel like, both on and off the internet - right?  Anyway, I spent the morning at work going through the back-room’s back-room-area, the task at hand being that of old equipment disposal.  As is often the case, however, I became hopelessly sidetracked and - lacking proper supervision - wound up with something besides a cart full of things to throw away.  In short, today turned into Fake Science Fiction Equipment Day.  Enjoy:

You’re welcome.