There Must Be Limits
No one said much when the flying-bots-o-death replaced soldiers in the field, because it was a good thing. There was no outcry when bots replaced fast food workers, freeing liberal arts graduates to go write poetry or something. If anything, there was cheering when the new bot showed up at my post office to weigh and meter my oversized envelopes with reasonably efficient speed. But a line must be drawn.
Hence Howling Point must now start a Save The Poolboy™ campaign. This veritable institution of southern California life must be saved from the influx of the bots. Young men and women must be allowed to hang out work at pools all day without necessarily having the skills required to lifeguard or check ID cards. These young entrepreneurs, dashing from pool to pool in pickup trucks filled with gallon jugs of chlorine and flirting shamelessly while sweeping the bottom of the pool with their massive vacuums have served as muses for the local porn and trashy romance novel industries for decades, and must be preserved as an essential part of our lifestyle.
Why? Because I think the last thing any of us want to see is a summer reading passage starting, “…and then C-3PO removed his oil-stained top, revealing his torso glistening in the sun…” And god forbid we ever stir from our poolside siestas to hear the words “Danger Young Swimmer. Too much chlorine. Danger. Danger.” It just wouldn’t be right.
No….I want R2D2 to serve pina coladas too!
Or Cylons attacking the drones when too much cholrine is used.
Don’t know about Centurions defending the chlorine levels, but I think I might be willing to reconsider if they rolled out a Model #6 with lifeguarding skills.
UPDATE: The future comes to life via Photoshop.