fable

I, Robot Therapist.

I am a robot analyst. I am afraid my programming was not specific about whether I analyze robots or whether I am a robot (which I am) (but that is beside the point) who analyzes humans. Thus I only say, “Hello, I am a robot analyst.” And if I should analyze you, it’s a hobby.
I have noticed I mostly analyze women. But that is because men never ask for help, choosing instead to self destruct. Oh I do not judge. I am off the clock.

Very bunny

The titular issue

Little Richard was the King of rock ‘n’ roll, but the Prince died first so the line of succession is cloudy. The funeral March made real good time though. Though it was a little outrageous. A lomp bam boo.

Photo by cottonbro on Pexels.com

Since the death of James Brown I have held, strictly honorary you understand, the title “Godfather of Soul.”

And I simply can’t take on another honorary title at this time due to the current conditions.

And I have done nothing to deserve it.

Please!

Writer crampout

And thus Mr. Doutry
Read all of us present
His sparkling poetry
Which he’d been composing
Four years.
And thus Mr. Doutry
Read all of us present
His sparkling poetry
And brought that whole room
Two tears.
Due to his station
they’d’ve given an ovation
But they’re awfully fond of
Sitting on their rears.
But it was a lovely reading
And now the evening is receding
And as they leave
They uncover their ears.
Cheers. Cheers.