Somewhere out there there are a bunch of dudes working to produce an a.i like system for sex dolls.

I just think that shit is funny.

Oh china, you always know how to snap me out of long stints of mundane and/or annoying, chore-esq work.
//...and letting me excuse a 10min, otherwise purely wrong procrastination down a current political rabbit hole

I gotta say, at least in china they are bold enough to put their image and identity on whatever they make... but in that 'im selling pseudo-sex, not because im sexy--just the opposite, so you know I relate' way.

Side note: i got an automated spam call survey yesterday*... it ot got to the 1st (of claimed 3) question.. which had a surprising amount of actual reiterations before looping... it was determined to get opinions(and totally incept the lemmings, soccer moms and politically ignorant into their stance, plus intense rage/disgust/dreams of standing on a soap box and fighting about this new issue they were totally unaware of.)... about this actively serving, politician's demand that china sell tiktok or totally stop allowing any operations/use on american soil... because of the heavily implied heinous nature of controlling and twisting society via media to it's explicitly declared communism... even directly called china, as a whole, communists, with impressive dramatics (and i coached public speaking hs and college kids then over a decade of business consulting, typically involving coaching vocals and implicit vocab)

I actually listened to it because it's what a typical subject, brought out of the koolaid fog, would view as ridiculously ironic(assuming they knew the actual, and therefore inherently ironic, def if irony... most dont. It's disturbing)... but it you have decent common sense, and dont emotionally view your entirety as wrong/broken/needing to be fixed in a cult-like manner, it's the oposite of irony. History of/and politics pull this crap all the time. It still works.

It reminds me of how my moniker, awesomeest, came about. In 3rd grade i realised that even adults, knowing they were chatting with an 8yr old, even if they knew/used the correct spelling of a, less common, term... if i misspelled it as if i thought it was right, theyd actually change their spelling to match (in perpetuity) albeit my vocab was easily high school level by then...likely at least in part to my flawless(aka blind/ignorant) demeanor of confidence that whatever i said/thought was totally correct, as a matter of fact. Not like the insecure ppl trying to prove something

I used to find it so comical... now it's just sad.

This bs automated political spam/manipulation is the modern version of i remember of kids farting in the late 90s... the culprit quickly accusing someone else of their offense, but even extra immature kids 25+ yrs ago figured that out... and even made the retort a catchy rhyme..."the one who smelt it, dealt it"

*i basically programmed in a counter attack/something akin to immature passive aggressive ' who"s really the one wasting the other's time and resources now?!? Ha!' ...odd numbers automatically go into a sort of echo chamber instead of ringing, with a manual escape to actually ringing/calling prompt built in.

I can listen in at any time without it having any effecf/sound too.

I'm curious if anyone participates in these minor acts of terrorism to complete an unrequested, intrusive, and human-less format of a proclaimed opinion poll? And if you do, are you honest? Why do you do it?

Annoyance at spam aside... the real victim I mentally mourn, and view it's method of demise akin to a cardinal sin (assuming religion...blah blah)... is the data! I <3 data... good, unobscured, not contrived, simple, pure, raw data... killed before its birth :'(

They added Fail Mode to Super Mario Odyssey — a set of ridiculously hard maps where you’re expected to fall down, but your gameplay is recorded, and in-game NPCs laugh at you. But, if you jump really far using boosters from Mario Kart, you can end up in rock climbing mode. When you reach the end, you get to a half-oasis, half-purgatory where there is a poker table, and other NPCs greet you.

There are a lot of chips, but they mean nothing — you got to invent your own rules.

Among those chips, I found a surf green-colored micro SD card. I put it into my Switch, and the whole new game opened: a hybrid of Mario and Subway Surfers where I’m being chased by half-Peach, half-Thomas the Tank Engine.

When we reached the end, we lost our furry friend. But he was hiding in a dresser drawer, with a sex doll. Not an inflatable one, mind you, and not a silicone one either: the material resembled that of Barbie dolls.

She was a human-size, pretty Caucasian girl. I talked to her. Yes, she could talk, and the voice wasn’t robotic — she was definitely alive. Despite being a completely empty shell, she was conscious, albeit very dumb.

Her name was Near. This is the joke she told me:

— Knock-knock.

— Who’s there?

— Andy.
— Andy who?
— Andy who was imprisoned for sexual assault five years ago, duh!