So the rumor that I am unable to pay attention is totally false; I just don't like to. For instance, I have, for quite a little while, known that this is the 21st century. I know this because people keep yammering the same old chestnut about "It's the 21st century, where is my flying car?" Yaddayaddayadda. Listen, right now you are plenty likely to be rear ended by an old hippie paying too much attention to her audio book of L. Ron Hubbard's wit and wisdom and when that happens you trade insurance info and fend off her attempts to talk you into a "personality test" and drive away. In a flying car, you plunge to a fiery death. That's an improvement?
I do not want the techno nerds wasting time on death trap flying cars. I want them to get off the dime and produce a sexbot. It's already 2013, for christ sake's. (It is, isn't it?) The question should be "Where is my lifelike android who will perform unspeakable acts and then go wash itself off?"
You know the first few iterations are going to all be Daryl Hannah from Blade Runner, cause these R&D guys are serious Big Bang type geeks.
Even when they finally get their hands out of their laps and turn their attention to running up a male version, it'll probably be Data from Star Trek.
That's just how they think.
Will they ever realize the marketing value of Mario Lopez's pussy? I doubt it.
In fact, I have been waiting so long for my Genuine Mario Lopez Sex Toy Android, with the patented Love Grip, that I have now moved on to a new focus. I want a Theo James doll. With the patented Love Grip.
Perhaps you know of Mr. James. He was the ill fated Turkish ambassador in Downton Abbey's first episode. He has resurfaced on the television this week with a new show called Golden Boy. Tragically, it is stink-eee. He's the latest in a long, long line of kind of generic brooding alpha male cops with a troubled past. Again, yaddayaddayadda.
The problem is Theo sweetie is so darn pretty his looks swamp his character. He launches his broody cop thang and all you think is "Wow look at those lips." You can't fight cheekbones like that.
I say go with the flow and write some show appropriate to his beauty. Here's my pitch: sensitive, but troubled Brian Scott (or Scott Brian, I'm working on the details, ok?) attempts to deal with his traumatic past (cue arty flashbacks) by leading a Double Life: by day, an underwear supermodel, by night, I don't know, something. What difference does it make? Spy, or cop or serial killer, who cares as long as most of the show features lengthy photo shoots of Theo in his panties looking all pouty and bulgy and stuff.
I know, at night he can be a sexbot. With the patented Love Grip.