If robots are doing all the work for me, why aren't they fetching me drinks and cigars? I mean, I assume they will peel grapes for me—and slice watermelon, and slather water crackers with bits of cilantro hummus—but if the Superhappy/Neuroscience Party really wants my vote, they'll have to allow for a few vices.

Even with the flying cars that I was promised decades ago.

Maybe several vices.

Perhaps a serious vice / virtue imbalance.

Quite possibly a serious of character flaws so impressive, the superhappy women will barely have the biomass to sustain them. Theoretically.

Via Grammar's Taskmistress.

Posted by: Attila Girl at 02:19 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
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