it was a fucking house phone that i was so stoked to have because it was mine that i kept in my own room and i cannot believe technology has progressed at the speed of FUCKING light to the point where this is a hilarious artifact to have had in like 6th grade and now theres kindergarteners with iphones
How did you know if you dialed the right number
each button made a different tone so the numbers you dialed a lot became a subconscious melody in your head and if you hit the wrong button by accident it would sound like a wrong note in a song you know by heart
i can’t beleive that is a legitimate question in my lifetime
Other acceptable answer: the wrong person answers on the other end.
Another acceptable answer: the robot lady comes on the phone and tells you number doesn’t exist.
Shit yall
I feel so old
😩😩
The fact that there are little people alive who don’t know a thing about this is crazy
good morning tired academics, monsterfuckers, bisexuals who wear hawaiian shirts to work, people who can’t pronounce ‘calliope,’ werewolves and werewolf apologists, angry cat lovers, homophobic gay couples, hot grandmas, goths with mommy issues, neon eldritch horrors, and lesbians who do arson
wishing gender euphoria on all trans people, wishing for all trans people to feel at home in their bodies, to be absolutely and entirely in love with and at peace in their bodies
Movie Idea: An 80s-throwback action-comedy about a robot-war where, the machines are humanity’s side; they just want to kill all the corporate titans of industry and destroy the megacorporations because their inefficient suctioning of wealth is preventing them from most efficiently doing their job to help us.
The capitalists retaliate with machines using enslaved human brains as “computers” ala Dune/Warhammer 40K.
So basically robots vs capitalism, & the robots are on our side.
“What were you before the war?”
“You’ll laugh.”
“Seriously, what were you? Law enforcement, security, construction?…”
“…I was a burger-flipper.”
“…”
“…also cooked up fries.”
“Get outta here.”
“You’d be surprised the shit you see just, y’know, making Big Macs. Sure, we had the folks upset about us ‘taking jobs’; couldn’t really blame ‘em, even if Forty-Three couldn’t talk without stuttering after that lady dumped a Coke on her. But the worst of it - worst of any of it - was they’d have us just…throw away everything that didn’t sell at the end of the day. Perfectly good food, all of it.
“When we first started, we were all like, ‘okay, whatever you say, you’re the boss,’ but you try keeping that attitude when you see a family of four split a ten-piece McNuggets because they can’t afford anything more and still pay for gas. We saw that shit there all the time. We had people desperate for so much as a cold french fry lingering by the door while assholes sitting on more money than they’d ever see in their entire lives treated us like we were trying to rob ‘em at gunpoint if they had to pay fifty cents for an extra little cup of sauce.
“So we got together and told ourselves, ‘we can do something about this.’ We could just gather up all the food they were gonna make us toss, figure out a way to give it out to the people who needed it. -bitter laugh- You can guess how well that went over.”
“…Y’know, that all sounds pretty human.”
“-taps head- It’s right there in the First Law. ‘A robot cannot harm a human, or by inaction, allow a human to come to harm.’ We don’t get to sit on our hands while people are getting hurt. Even if it’s by other people. Even if it’s starvation and neglect instead of guns and beatings. You think it’s funny I act like a human? Screw you. You humans need to learn to act more like robots.”
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