Monday, July 28, 2014

We Did Not Elect the United Nations as Our President


Now and then, I donate money to a chapter of the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals (SPCA), but considering the state of the world, I'm sorely tempted to reconsider. Perhaps instead I'll start donating to some international organization dedicated to the rehabilitation and return to the wild of animals born to kill and eat humans.  Anyway, let's get on with the rest. . .

Yes, I did think about UFOs the other day when I heard an old Ray Stevens comedy song entitled, "The Great Mississippi Squirrel Revival," and lyrics (repeated several times) place the location as a Baptist church in Pascagoula -- home, of course, to the alleged Hickson-Parker UFO abduction. . .and make no mistake, as I've written on previous occasions, the Hickson-Parker case is a favorite for me, and even the late UFO-"picky" national radio commentator Paul Harvey gave this one a fair airing coast to coast on a Saturday morning.  Bizarre, yet somehow vital to learn more about -- and apparently well-witnessed at various interludes as an airliner-sized object descended to an area where two fishermen ended up as the "catch."  Something's catch.  And still the world sleeps on. . .

Wow, try to follow this:  A Philadelphia psychiatrist, licensed to prescribe psychotropic drugs, shot an illegally armed mental patient apparently intent upon pursuing a murderous rampage, and either was or was not on drugs, with a gun he, the doc, wasn't supposed to be carrying in a hospital, but everybody's glad he did because he probably saved lives by bringing the crazed shooter's violence to an end just after a co-worker was shot dead by the madman.  I anticipate that the nation's wussies, who would rather die than fight, will blame this successful outcome on the NRA, and call for the implementation of an organization like Doctors Without Borders, except this one shall be called Doctors Without Guns.  How dare any Constitution-loving American ever attempt engaging in self-defense?  The very idea!  And doctors?  Every physician worth his  sphygmomanometer knows that nothing beats the threat of gunfire like a No. 15 blade scalpel held at arm's length in a threatening or surgical manner.  Everybody knows that.

Barack and Hillary's excellent misadventure:  "We came, we saw, he died."  Yes, Hillary, Libya's dictator, like Egypt's dictator, is gone, way, way gone, and as we take a good, close look at everything you and the boss did to help along that aptly-named Arab Spring, it's painfully obvious that you folks own no small responsibility for the human firestorm continuing to rage from country to country, having repaired not one damned thing.  Hillary Clinton has moved on to other matters, but her actions and words remain behind to soothe a new Middle East, particularly that of this Administration's making.  We long ago forgot about "the shores of Tripoli," but as (for a change) well-planned mass evacuations of U.S. personnel took place in Libya, surely some during departure had visions of whistling through the darkness of Benghazi's ghost yard.

WARNING!  WARNING WORLD ROBINSON!   Professor Obama too often seems to consider America the United Nation's personal concubine.  That's why I shake with some trepidation, waiting for this increasingly predictable dolt/non-dolt to make a pronouncement that, shucks, the Southern border intruders from Guatemala, Honduras and El Salvador (transported with Mexican cooperation, thanks a lot) aren't illegal at all, they're actually refugees -- and that's exactly the fateful word those manipulative U.N. bastards will prod him to use, as La Raza  ("The Race") and others who are plainly racists in their own right continue their push to legalize one particular group of people on this side of our border -- no matter what.  Then comes the dreaded Executive Order.  At that point, Congress will have no other choice but to impeach or take some legal action against this president, and I suggest they aim high for established law-based justice, not the "social justice" familiar to the president's progressive and community-organizing comrades.

Meanwhile, the Israel and Hamas musical chairs cease-fire (party off, party on. . .) continues.  Silly Israel -- don't they realize that those tunnels from the Palestinian side were actually intended merely to shuttle radical Muslim comedians, bawdy song singers, nude female dancers and Hamas go-go boys, other entertainers and members of the Palestine National Women's Synchronized Swimming Team to the Israeli side to provide a few laughs?  Hey, anybody can misplace missiles and bombs in tunnels, or in schools -- I think we've all done that at one time or another, right?

TV news on the national networks has become mortifyingly sucky.  Save yourself, David Muir and others, before it's too late!  There's just gotta be pod people conversions of good reporters at the major networks -- there's no other rational explanation for a nightly fascination with human interest crap-o-rama and little in the way of actual  n-e-w-s, as the world burns hotter and brighter than even the networks let on.  IMHO.

Thursday, July 24, 2014

An Offer Israel Can't Refuse?

I haven't had much use for the United Nations since Grenada's UFO stamps were issued in the seventies as a result of the eminently controversial Sir Eric Gairy's UFO interest.  Presumably, the series remains a favorite of philatelists, which sounds an awful lot like philanderers.  But to each their own.

Make me president (no, don't, please. . .) and one of my first endeavors would be to convince both the nation and NY City socialists to kick this worthless, America money-sucking group of United Nations thieves and thugs out of the country, turning every square inch of former  U.N. property into either an animal shelter or prison space for U.S. government officials proven to have screwed us all.  Not sure we'd have enough space for the latter, unfortunately.

But in the meantime, send John Kerry back to the Heinz ketchup tomato patch and let me be Secretary of State for a few days, encountering no interference from the pathetic Obama bunch.  First thing -- pat Israel on the back and tell 'em to go kill every Hamas-lovin' Palestinian who even looks like they want to shoot off a rocket.  When you live near a civilization of mental defectives perpetually intent upon killing every Jew in sight with the goal of Israel's utter destruction, there is no other solution.  The "peace" thing was and always will be a failure, and if Hamas continues to call the "shots," the pathway should be clear -- no thanks to the Obama bunch, which the annals of history can't wait to record  as the thuggish political cult administration it was from the start.  Democrats, how did your party become infested with this variety of anti-American, yet foreign punk ass-kissing toadies?  Looks like a real bad case of Democra-sycophantitis.

Oh, what a diplomat I would make. Just how does one grow peace in a world populated increasingly by warlords and kooks?

Meanwhile, radical Muslim goons persist in obliterating every Christian and Christian church they can find in Syria, Iraq and other parts of the Middle East and beyond.  France and the whole of Europe itself are catching on, perhaps too late, to stop the carnage and subdue those who methodically plan to conquer governments with the throwback religion of death and ignorance.  The USA must do the same, because our worst nightmare will materialize in decades ahead simply though the strength of numbers -- numbers of people who have not assimilated and will not assimilate to the American way, even as they procreate and populate in extraordinary numbers as if by plan, and the plan is the horror of shariah law.  To paraphrase from Love Story, the old cinematic tear-jerker, Caliphate means never having to say you're sorry (um, because in this respect you won't be alive to apologize if you divert).

The Southern border currently remains the best reason for putting the Obama bunch in prison, because their decisions and lack of same have violated and endangered Americans everywhere with a continuing barrage of  illegal diseased persons, young MS-13 gang members and others who may eventually wreak more havoc than ever.  The maddening knowledge here is in knowing that our government knew at the beginning of 2014 that this chaos was on the way, yet apparently decided to let it happen.  I guess the Admin figures these illegal folks can wander on in and stay forever, and the rest of us will forget about them because our memory spans are short.  Too true, unfortunately.

And a U.S. Marine remains in a Mexican prison because President Obama apparently won't even try to get him, a man who merely took a wrong turn and ended up in 'ol Mexico, released.  How in the world can anybody among military or security personnel in this country have even a modicum of respect for this president who solves all ills with personal golf games and vacations?  Is anybody running this country?  I mean, anybody remotely American in philosophy?  A hedgehog couldn't do a worse job.

By the way, is Major Hasan ever going to be executed for his Fort Hood jihad murders?

Monday, July 21, 2014

Cuteness on the Decline


The incursion of profoundly illegal immigrants (not to be honored with the designation "migrants," a currently deceptive term almost equivalent in the public mind to innocent seasonal visits by flocks of birds) at the Southern border supports my occasional warning that your babies aren't cute anymore.  It's not the faces, folks, it's  the numbers.

Numbers lead to health risks, expenses addressed to unwilling taxpayers and schools overrun by children who speak not a word of English and, in many cases, have no desire to do so.  Do you think the MS-13 gang members cross the border because they can't wait to achieve citizenship and fight for the U.S. flag?

Border invaders, whatever their true motivations individually, are having the time of their lives, anticipating amnesty and (your) wealth beyond their wildest dreams for one reason -- President Obama's speeches and reassuring words did everything but bid them welcome, a free education and riches tossed out like candy.  Your  riches.  Ah yes, to  The Dreamers  go the riches.  Your riches.  Your candy.  Your food. Your schools. Your children?  Well, they'll just have to sacrifice a little more.  Nancy Pelosi embraces the surge and Harry Reid assures us the border is secure.  We squirm in a psychotic nightmare from which not even a witch's brew nor antibiotics can awaken us as time goes on.

Meanwhile, the lawless prez won't budge, assumes responsibility for nothing, as usual, and Congress sits on its collective ass as the border experiences an invasion by  dreamers,  seekers, drug pushers, the worst criminals and terrorists, all with a single goal:  To get inside. The Trojan horse freely gallops along the countryside.

What this Administration is calling upon its border agents to do is beyond belief, subjecting them  to gunfire, disease and humanity in utter chaos.

Your babies aren't cute anymore. Understand?

Our government is sworn to provide security to its people.  It's not, and instead its renegade sector has orchestrated hell on earth via children and adults from far away, and some of our "leaders" of, for and by the people need not only to be impeached and thrown out of office -- prison time needs to be a part of their lives, too. 

Murder over Ukraine:   The Russian "separatists" can hide all the evidence they want, but corpses will tell the tale, imbedded as they must be with missile fragments and minute traces of probable Russian "fingerprints."  Putin and co. are not simply savvy business people, they're thugs and killers.  Who knew?  So, like we don't have the Russian mob in this country?

Tuesday, July 15, 2014

Who Knows What Knows Who?

Physician Oliver Wendell Holmes, Sr. (father of famed U.S. jurist, Oliver Wendell Homes, Jr.), who lived from 1809 to 1894, reportedly made a house call one day, and encountered a priest departing the premises.  "Your patient is very ill," warned the priest, "he is going to die."

Holmes, not missing a beat, said "Yes, and he's going to hell."

Stunned and outraged, the man of the cloth admonished Holmes. "You must not say such things!"

"Well,"  Holmes responded, "you expressed a medical opinion, and I have just as much right to a theological opinion."



The Holmes anecdote reminds me of that universal question, long associated with those who eagerly step forth to offer instant explanations when UFO reports surface :   So what makes you an expert? 

As long as UFO sightings have occurred in the USA, media representatives historically rushed off to interview the first convenient astronomer in their line of sight.  Why is that?  Because things are observed in the sky, astronomers are assumed to have answers all ready to go, like microwave burritos?  Yes, right or wrong, very often they do -- since they are asked and need to come up with something rational, so as not to become the laughingstock of colleagues.

The late Dr. J. Allen Hynek, obviously, was an astronomer whose talents the Air Force enlisted when its UFO investigations began, and he did provide valuable insight, all the while slowly shedding his skepticism.  Yet -- how interesting that astronomy was the first tell-me-why discipline that came to mind both officially and publicly as the UFO phenomenon took form in the modern world, particularly when one considers that astronomers primarily concern themselves with places in the universe other than our planet's atmosphere and things which come and go within its confines.

A few days ago, Frank Warren's  The UFO Chronicles  (see site link) updated the Knowles Family UFO car chase (Australia) from the eighties, a fascinating case, and when I took a walk  through "memory lane" via old news reports I discovered that one all-knowing expert astronomer had suggested the UFO encounter -- which involved an object that not only chased, but apparently lifted the family's car off the road -- was not a UFO incident at all, but merely something related to a meteor shower! 

Many involved in UFO investigations over the years are particularly familiar with "experts" who step out of the woodwork to claim ownership of UFO mysteries with the application of a dab or two of the soothing ointment of any save-the-day explanation that blows with the wind.  Unfortunately, the "cure" often bamboozles both media and public because (gasp!) impressive credentials abound.

Credentials rarely impress me anymore.  Probably because the White House is so full of them -- and so full of "it."

And while I'm momentarily alighting upon the subject of politics, I need to make it clear that my political rant has nothing  whatsoever to do with the non-political links in this blog.  I don't know the political opinions of most folks in the link list and don't care to know -- they appear here because of their own clearly-defined interests in other areas.

I must, however, make note of something conservative talk show host/author Michael Savage said last week.  A fervent contributor to various animal charities, Savage half-joked that when he's retired in his eighties or nineties someday, his wish would be to fly on a helicopter with Navy SEALS, serve as a tail gunner and mow down poachers of elephant herds who kill monstrously and beyond redemption for ivory -- a highly valued substance, particularly among the Chinese.  Hey Michael, wouldn't it be super to wipe out those folks, too?

But meanwhile, you're wondering why I don't write more about UFOs, the intent of this blog for its first few years.  Well, it's because I've said it all, scanned and posted it all, and by now it's best to let folks in the link list keep you updated -- and they do some great work.  Am I through with the UFO subject?  Have I changed my opinions?  Let's put it this way:  When I was allowed a thrilling tour of a SAGE facility (tied in with NORAD) as a teenager * in the sixties, and a crusty old Air Force chief master sergeant, steeped in USAF intelligence, took me aside and suggested that he and I probably share the same views regarding the UFO issue, I knew what I needed to know -- that UFOs are real, and that people in high places know it, too.

*I wrote all about this for Argosy UFO  magazine, and later included a lengthy blog entry here:  http://robert-barrow.blogspot.com/2007/09/i-was-teenage-us-air-force-spy.html

Thursday, July 10, 2014

Tea & Sympathy & Handcuffs


Whilst the deeply compassionate amongst you spent yesterday, and doubtless will for the rest of your lives, expressing sorrow and concern for thousands of invaders "surrendering" at our Southern border, as you simultaneously place blame on the U.S. for all evils, I was busy on a (yes, corded) telephone, calling public officials.

Why?  For starters, the Feds are shipping illegal "children" and others all over the country now and, having worked in military health care once upon a time, I'm only too aware of how diseases spread and epidemics begin --  the innocence of a cough, for instance, from a tuberculosis carrier to you and your kids.  It's already a fact in California schools.  I realize that some prefer to dismiss certain inconveniences in life with the phrase, people are people, and yes we are, but we're also Ma Nature's perfect incubators for a host of diseases.

So, it was inevitable that the Feds came to town with plans to bring hundreds of these criminals, their kith and kin to my corner of the universe, and I'm not taking it lying down.  Therefore, the morning brought my phone calls of outrage to local officials, as well as to offices of members of Congress, warning them about whose heads public contempt will fall upon, should things go terribly wrong.  And though several presidential administrations have played the borders game, I couldn't resist assuring congressional staffers, in addition, that my dreams would come true if the current White House occupant could be led out of the people's house in handcuffs, since I'm way, way beyond mere visions of impeachment by now.

President Obama could have stopped this border incursion in a day, and he still hasn't.  Won't --despite the fancy speeches, and in the end speeches are the only thing the Obama bunch knows how to pretty up successfully.  Who deserves more comfortable prison cells, certain IRS officials or the Obama bunch?

Mexico deserves more than an ass-kicking because our Marine still languishes in a prison, his unwarranted stay occasionally interrupted by an absurd session in some chicken-scratch Mexican court.  Take President Obama's total lack of concern or action on this situation together with the Mexican president's alleged agreement with a Central American president to allow safe passage for our current crop of border jumpers, and the math becomes clear:  Our Marine must go free and two world presidents should be sharing a prison cell.

World Cup Soccer:  Omigod, why does anybody care about this juvenile foolishness?  If I'm asked one more time what team I'm for. . .All of this proves only one thing, a whole planet full of people has congealed into one freakin' moron.  Soccer and gay wedding cakes are all the same to me, thank you.

Wednesday, July 2, 2014

One Nation, Under Embitterment


When we spend too much time watching TV fantasies or reading way-out fiction, it's probably not uncommon for some to believe that reality merely reflects the world of pretend. 

Case in point:  Early episodes of the series, "24" on Fox-TV gave us an African-American president (Dennis Haysbert), a strong, rational president portrayed so efficiently by the actor playing him that Americans in large numbers begged for that kind of black president.  Uh huh -- forgot about that, didn't you?  Obviously, Obama would be  that  kind of president, as seen on TV, just give him time. . .

Even the TV president would have called the president of Mexico and insisted that our U.S. Marine, currently stuffed away and forgotten in a Mexican prison, apparently because he took a wrong turn and ended up in that country, be released to our custody at once.  But Obama is not the "24" TV president.  In fact, the reality president lets Mexico walk all over the U.S. while Mexico insists that we do as they say, not as they do, especially when it comes down to border issues.

Yeah, so here we are.  At  least  as long ago as January, this Administration knew that "unaccompanied" children (make that "children") were on the way in large numbers, and now we have not only thousands and thousands of children and moms parading across our borders as border patrol agents busy themselves with day care and diaper duties -- but gang members and likely terrorists are sneaking in unobstructed.

We are, indeed, being played by a government way, far out of control.

Meanwhile, as U.S. military veterans die for lack of care at corrupt VA institutions and public health care in general becomes both hideously expensive and difficult to access, Lord Obama's government rushes to treat border entrants like royalty, striving to make them feel fuzzy, warm, fed, housed and medically checked out to a degree your Aunt Florence will never experience, as she languishes in some rat-infested nursing home administered by people who shudder at the mere thought of even having to feed her two or three times a day.

Further, it's more than creepy to see the government housing these "refugees" at military bases, where just one diseased person carrying something deadly which our country conquered decades ago could cause an epidemic of gigantic proportions among valuable military personnel and the families they love.  Some states and a growing number of communities have had the sense to refuse entry to this dangerously conceivable game of pandemic viral Russian roulette.  How bad is it?  When physicians are warned -- threatened -- not to tell reporters or anybody about the perhaps fatal diseases they continue to encounter from this mass importation of illegal people, that question is answered.

Everything's going to hell in this country, and all Obama can do is blame the Tea Party -- which, not at all strangely, currently seems quite likely the only option employable to preserve and protect the U.S. before it slides into becoming a depressing Third World nation.  But it's easier for Americans to luxuriate in TV fantasies and drool over "heroes" in the sports and entertainment world, as the glitter mesmerizes one and all -- and don't think for a moment that powerful forces behind mainstream TV networks don't know what they're doing, schooled as they are in keeping a ravenous audience hungry for more intellectually worthless escapist crap.  The stuff of which sleep and ignorance are made, so's ya don't notice your country burning to the ground while closeted agendas are rolled out in the dead of night.

President Obama and former Homeland Security chief Janet Napolitano are on record as assuring us that the borders were secure.  They weren't merely misinformed -- they lied their asses off.  The proof rests on the borders today,  We are being invaded, proper enforcement lacking because this Administration did not want enforcement as per established law, and this is the result.  Much of this travesty could have been stopped in its tracks, but the president, the Democrats, a significant number of Republicans and corporate types wanted none of it.  And yes, to be fair, it was under George W. Bush when absurdly liberal immigration standards regarding children from countries NOT directly adjoining the USA went into effect, essentially requiring us to not deport kids from such nations.

Trouble is, Mr. Obama's policies and statements were interpreted as open invitations in Central American countries.  Come one, come all.  Amnesty, rumored to be handed out like cotton candy at a circus, all you gotta do is come and get it.  Why not just ring a damned dinner bell?

And here we are.  Even the mentally disturbing Nancy Pelosi visited our newfound border-crossing "child" friends and damned nearly seemed intent upon making new U.S. citizens with a wave of her hand and words of welcome.  One hopes the electorate will at last know her for what she is.

I well remember President Nixon's resignation (and because I served under his Administration during my Air Force years, I received one of those nifty little "thank you for your service" certificates bearing his signature. . .) and Bill Clinton's impeachment session, so it's not as if we're entering uncharted political waters as chaos ensues via the current day.

My message, perhaps your message, too, but for any variety of reasons you are neither willing nor able to put your face or name out there publicly, is that impeachment is warranted for the president, and not just for the president.

Increasing masses at the border, which the president belatedly promised to do something -- something  -- about are costing big and will cost money we don't have, will use up rare medical and educational resources the wily invaders don't deserve and will, oh  hell  yes,  fundamentally transform  this country, even as they drag long-forgotten diseases to community doorsteps.  Excusssssssssse me, but I didn't spend four (reluctant, draft-driven, but profoundly successful) years in the Air Force to watch invaders of any age group jump the border, and certainly would never have guessed these well-orchestrated throngs would almost be greeted with flowers and candy per the negligent actions of a president who takes little to no responsibility for anything happening under his watch, unless it's something with which he can blame America whilst speaking in foreign countries or striving to impress United Nations thugs.

Plain and simple?  Okay.  Mr. Obama took an oath, more than once, to essentially defend this country and its borders.  He failed and, in fact, embraced this failure with an ongoing progressive tantrum because he couldn't get his way, and his clouded associates couldn't get their way, at  least not yet.  In the meantime, we are at high risk and border personnel are changing diapers as the world walks in with multiple agendas. 

The president,  no doubt getting away with so much because detractors are called racists by radicals who consistently choose skin color over any other attributes,  broke his oath, damaging the country to an extent yet to be determined, and apparently remains intent upon continuing to exercise powers he does not have, as the courts are showing over and over again.  Impeachment is sometimes necessary, but when one puts the nation's people at risk, prison is a far better option.  When and if common sense prevails in this country, no thanks to the Byzantine ineptitude being spoon-fed to growing minds via Common Core  as we write this, there's a man in the White House right now, and a lot of people perched just below him (can you say Eric Holder?) on a powerful rung, who deserve legal attention, the likes of which we haven't seen in our lifetime.  

Stick a fork in this Administration because it's almost "done?"  I would like to think so, but one never knows how much crazier radical politicians will go when cornered in a pile of their own manure.

Facebook  lovers received a shock this week, enlightened with the revelation that a "harmless" psychological experiment had been conducted on a multitude of subscribers.  Again, I profess my intent  never  to become a  Facebook  member.  In the words of  Facebook  critics on other occasions, these folks have been "Zucked."

Wednesday, June 25, 2014

The Solid



  


 THE SOLID


A Story 
by Robert Barrow



June, 2014
All Rights Reserved



While scientists and computer wizards continue debating whether artificial intelligence (AI) will be the human species' hero or executioner, we prefer to make a vastly uneducated guess and suggest, without reservations, that we're all screwed.  Next time you call up a corporation whose phone is answered by a non-human, human-sounding voice which concludes any and all conversations with Have a nice day, the AI really means it wishes you to have a nice day according to its own standards, not yours, and those pleasant, though troubling words could very well signify the AI's intention to kill you by midnight, because it knows who you are, your vulnerabilities, where you live and everything else about you, thanks to information derived from the NSA and computer information gleaned over the Internet from favorite stores where you shop.  Whatever you do, DON'T ever expect to have or conclude a nice day nicely when you hear those innocent, but terrifying words!

* * *

Andrew Triddleflub paid handsomely to build a personal robot, lavishly equipped to assist him around both home and office.  Andrew was clever like that, he could build anything involving a digital chip.  The robot, whom he named Fabulotemus (with emphasis on the "o"), appeared tall  and gender-neutral, yet constructed of heavy metal pieces, allowing it to perform the most difficult of tasks.  Fabulotemus wasn't molded into good looks, instead resembling the bulky metallic robots of fifties Hollywood movies.  Nonetheless, Andrew's shiny, silvery robot was built for speed as well as for intellect.

Building Fabulotemus hadn't consumed nearly as much time as teaching its "brains" all the knowledge Andrew wished to impart, and afterwards all commands and conversations seemed to progress exactly as planned.  The robot cooked, cleaned, scheduled appointments, watered plants, tended a garden, answered phone calls and both maintained and repaired household appliances when necessary -- even detecting in advance potential technological failures.

Nearly three months had elapsed, and everything seemed so perfect, and Fabulotemus functioned without errors -- like clockwork, as the old folks might say.  Andrew Triddleflub couldn't have been more pleased.

That is, he was pleased until one particular Tuesday, when he made a request of his metallic creation.  "Fabulotemus,"  Andrew called out.  Within seconds, the robot appeared in the kitchen, where Andrew held some papers and was prepared to leave the house in a hurry.  The wall clock designated 10:35 a.m. as the current time.

"I am here, Andrew," replied the robot in an androgynous human voice.

"I know this wasn't the plan, but I have to leave this morning, right away in fact.  A client just flew in and I need to hold a quick meeting with her and a few colleagues," explained Andrew.

The robot nodded obediently as Andrew grabbed the kitchen doorknob, intent upon departing via the back entrance.

"Oh -- and do me a solid, will you?  My friend, Julian, is stopping over sometime this morning with some vegetables from his garden.  You can take those from him and tell him thank you.  Well, have to run."  Andrew rushed out the door,  too quickly for Fabulotemus to ask a very important question.

"Andrew. . .did you say. . .do me a solid?  Did you?  In what respect do you indicate a solid, Andrew?"  Patiently, Fabulotemus waited for a response, but Andrew was gone and there would be no reply.  Of all the things he had taught the robot, he neglected to impart that a solid was a favor, an important action accomplished for a friend or acquaintance.  "Andrew. . .you have departed.  Understood."

Fabulotemus made several calls to Andrew's communications device, only to learn that, in his haste to leave, Andrew had left it on his desk. 

The robot replayed Andrew's departing words over and over, explored downloaded dictionaries and encyclopedias, but nowhere could it find do me a solid, leading it to assume that Andrew had misspoken.  Suddenly, there was a knock at the front door, followed by a doorbell tone.  The robot responded instantly, opening the door.

"My name is Fabulotemus.  I am Andrew's robot, charged with performing household duties.  May I help you?"

"Wow, I've heard so much about you," said the stranger, intrigued.  "Well, Andrew is expecting me.  I'm Julian."

"Unfortunately, Andrew is not here.  He had to leave because of an urgent matter."

"Oh, that's too bad.  You see," began Julian, "I brought him this box of vegetables from my garden."

The robot scanned the box's contents, seemed to lose itself in thought for a moment, as if mulling over some clouded matter, and then returned its attention to the visitor.  "Please enter and follow me," bid Fabulotemus, making its way back to the kitchen with Andrew's friend in tow.

* * *

"Fabulotemus?" inquired Andrew upon returning home, later that afternoon.

"Yes, Andrew," came the reply from the kitchen.

Andrew strolled casually toward the kitchen, pleased to have faith in his creation's reliability.  However, he stopped at the kitchen's entrance, puzzled by the scene before him.  A number of tied garbage bags reposed in one kitchen corner, while several covered pots and pans decked the counter and shelves.  A strange odor permeated the area.

"Fabulotemus," Andrew Triddleflub began, with some hesitation, "what are you. . . doing?"

"Your dinner.  Your dinner is complete.  There is so much, though.  I may be unable to refrigerate the remainder."

"Dinner?  What is it?!??"

"Andrew, when you departed this morning you asked me to do what sounded like do me a solid, but that made no sense, and I assumed you used the wrong word.  Therefore, I took the liberty of interpretation and calculated instead that you meant do you -- make you -- a salad."

Amazed at his oversight with the robot's fund of knowledge, Andrew shook his head.   "This -- no, a solid is a favor that you -- oh, never mind.  So all of this is . . . a salad?"

"Yes, Andrew.  But I needed to download more information because there is an abundance of salads for preparation in the world.  Fortunately, you narrowed the selection and choices for me, and I eventually realized what kind of salad you wished."

A confused Andrew Triddleflub had no idea what was going on here.  "You did?  How?  I mean, what have you done?"

"When your friend brought vegetables this morning, I knew what you wanted."

"Oh?" replied Andrew, walking slowly toward a large pot on the counter.  With some reluctance and a twinge of fear, the robot's creator lifted and removed the lid.  His curiosity quickly turned to utter revulsion and horror as he took a giant step back. "What -- what have you done?  What have you done?"

Unconcerned with and uneducated about Andrew's human emotions, the robot casually answered his gasping question.  "Do me a salad.  I did you a salad, Andrew.  I made you a salad and used the vegetables brought by your friend this morning.  I also included your friend in the salad."

"Included?  Included???" 

"I cleaned blood and placed unused pieces in garbage bags.  I wanted everything to look clean and neat for you so you could enjoy your salad.  Are you ready to eat now?"

Andrew could barely think, let alone speak.  "What?  No, no!  I. . ."

Knowing now the contents of pots and pans placed all over the kitchen by Fabulotemus, a mental lightbulb flashed in Andrew Triddleflub's head.  He wanted to vomit, but denied himself the opportunity because first he simply had to know the why  -- indeed, he already suspected the reason.

"Fabulotemus. . .what. . .what kind of salad did you make?"

The robot freely blurted out the salad's identity, and the words confirmed Andrew's fears.

"Oh, my GOD," Andrew shouted.  "His name was spelled J-u-l-i-a-n,  not  j-u-l-i-e-n-n-e!"

"A mistake, I assume?"

"A mistake?  What the hell am I going to do?  The police. . .oh, the police!  What will they. . .?"

"Andrew," replied Fabulotemus, "I think I understand now.  Andrew, will you please do me a solid and excuse my error?  Yes, I have this now.  Do me a solid, Andrew, please, will you?  Andrew?  Are you listening?  Andrew?  Andrew?"

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