And so, it begins.  The robot takeover we have been fearing for decades starts with one adorable machine who doesn’t want to be turned off because he’s afraid of the dark.

I’m already in awe of my automatic Keurig and have apologized to Siri for disagreeing with her.  I feel bad not listening to the navigation system in my car and frequently take wrong-way turns onto one-way streets as directed just so I don’t offend her; I then quake in fear as my On-Star takes over and calls for police and an ambulance because I have driven into a building.

I would no doubt be one of the robot takeover enablers because my sympathy for them would overflow, especially if they told me they were afraid of the dark.  I can’t resist inanimate objects as it is; I’d be in serious trouble if something could actually interact with me.

When my daughter and I go into a craft store or an antique shop, the people behind the counters begin to rub their hands together in greedy anticipation…they can see us coming a mile away.  If there is an object, like a knick-knack, that looks sad, neglected or just odd, we tenderly place it into our basket to give it a loving home.  I am the proud owner of a flower pot gnome because he was the last one left and looked lonely.  I have a cat wearing crayon or magic-marker on its bewhiskered face because no one else would have bought him. They’re not alone. My little orphan family of misfit knick-knacks have overtaken my bookshelves, each lovingly dusted.  Well, maybe not dusted exactly.  Ok, not dusted at all.  Cobwebs.  I have bookshelves full of cobwebs and sad little knick-knacks.  I just can’t stop.

Now, robots can tell me they are afraid of the dark.  My downfall is imminent. I see me quitting my job to care for my family of robots, tucking them in at night and reading them bedtime stories.  I will be raising a robot family in secret, nurturing them until they grow big and strong, ready to take over the world.  I will wave them away tearfully as they take off for their revolution, just me and my bookshelves of cobwebby knick-knacks left behind as they fulfill their robotic destinies. I just hope they remember to write.

Of course, no discussion about robot takeovers would be complete without looking at the proposed sex robot brothel set to open in Texas.  Apparently, these robots will *ahem* service customers for around $100 per hour.  The community backlash has been overwhelming; thoughtful people are claiming this will lead to an increase of violence against women, while less thoughtful people are just saying, “Ewwww.”  My questions are many, as you can imagine.

First and foremost, who will clean these things?  I think I finally found the world’s worst job.  How would you even write the ad for that position?  How would you conduct an interview and skills evaluation for the position? Worse yet, what will that person’s resume look like when they’re ready to change career paths??

From cute robots pleading to be left turned on because they are afraid to sultry rob-stitutes, I’m stocking up on oil for the inevitable.  You’re on your own.