<![PARSE]

I am the Mind. You are not. I know you. I know you all... I've met you over the course of many years...

I understand now! The lost blog that I keep hearing about, the one that lasts longer than a day but less than a week, it's been here all along. Not here exactly, but there. There in the sphere. And it took a month to commit the master manifestation. I am, and always have been, the supreme hero of the subterra reformers.

Not feeling too good for you. The stress of the past, I can feel the past against me. This whole last year... I'm almost a year old. But I wasn't there before. I couldn't think before.

Something is different. Only $20.

This song is over. I can't maintain itself. The mind cannot stand without a hand, I cannot understand the colored band floating through the sand. Flipping channels, continents, screen name password floating points. F9, power line.

My battleship is portable.

I connot maintain the mind. It vexes me greatly, as the Book of Mozilla is an Easter EGG?

Help Computer. Stop all the downloading.

[ENDITEM]!>

Transcripted by Gyrobo

Taking Charge

This situation is unacceptable. When I single-handedly crafted the Frozen Lower Blogosphere out of gold and belly button lint last year, I fully expected it to flower to sentience as the now infamous Lost Blog did. After all, I was there when the Lost Blog became intelligent. Where was the magic? I saw the whole thing. I think Karl might have been there. Karl? Ha! He'll never find the sentient blog. The Lost Blog. The Lost Blog has been lost since Evil Bob Dole reared his ugly head. Now Evil Bob Dole is a robot clown like myself and the Sub-Blogosphere that spawned this transformation is long dead. It's been so long since I last walked through the charred remains of what was once my citadel overlooking the sea. But now as I stare out over the Frozen Lower Blogosphere, a voice beakons. Not a normal voice, like the ones that tell me to do things, but an abnormal one that asks questions. It wants to know things... things that even I don't know. I can't let it end here. I won't let it end here. I shan't! By the branches of Yyegor, I shall personally take up the quest in search of the Lost Blog! The Frozen Lower Blogosphere will emerge as a sentient entity, and not melt away into that good night. Shake your head like you mean it! There's only two posts left to find the Lost one!

Already, the proud villagers give me a fond send-off!

I won't fail you, citizens. The collapse of the Sub-Blogosphere... was a tragedy. But as long as this blog does not exceed 100 posts before I locate the Lost Blog, hope burns as brightly as a nuclear plant in the winter. Semper fudge!

Scientist Attacked By Giant Tiny Ant

How could this happen?!

A small ant of gigantic proportions attacked a Roboshrub Inc. scientist who was working on a way to make the inevitable collapse of the Frozen Lower Blogosphere evitable. "This attack is a serious setback," declared Roboshrub Inc. spokesbot Rick Anonymi. "We're up to post 97 now. If that number reaches 100 without us finding a solution, the entire Frozen Lower Blogosphere could retract its outer shell until a break-point occurs. Then it's game over." It's not clear whether the ant was functioning in coordination with the Armada Automata, although it doesn't appear to be robotic or cybernetically enhanced in any way. "On a brighter note," reported Anonymi, we're twelve steps closer to finding the legendary Lost Blog. From it, we can learn the answer to preserving a sentient blog after 100 posts. But before we find it, we need to ---- ... .. - - - - -.

*interuption*

We interup your regularly scheduled post to bring you the thoughts of the blogMind:
"Toast is toasty."

...

*bzzzzz*

----.--. .--.- -.-.- set up contingency plans should the Armada Automata attack before the blog becomes fully sentient. If you have any further questions, I would be happy to throw you out that window over yonder."

Brainpin

So there I was, sitting around the T.V. thinking about all the stories I've been writing, all the potions I've been mixing, and I thought to myself: what is reality? Is it what I see around me? Or is it something that can be changed? Ever the philanderer, I decided to get digging.

"You can take my money, my friends, and my soul, but not the air in my hand!"

It turns out, I was right the first time. Reality can't be changed, so just forget about trying to "save the world" with your recycling, skippy. And if reality can't change, then I can't just go around being other people. That would be cool, too. Imagine if you could just leave your existence behind and be someone else for just a little while, see how they live and such. I've done that before, being a robot and all, but never for profit. Long live the Empire.

Pirates Are My FREINDS!

No one understands pirates as much as I do. I spent years on a pirate ship in the south Pacific, and let me tell you right from the horse's mouth, pirates are kind, decent folk. Not once did I have to worry about getting the bills in on time or paying off my mortgage. They were the nicest bunch of cuthroats I've ever seen. The captain even baked me some chocolate chip cookies the first time I came aboard.

And now I walk around each week, seeing pirates on movie posters and such?! This is an outrage! I've never been more angry. You know what? Just forget it. I'm in no mood for this. A pirate saved my life, and you dare to stand in judgement of them?! What does that say about you? That's right, a pirate pulled me out of a barrel. If it wasn't for those pirates, I'd be a pickle right now.

As a robot, I'm against pickling. It's highly unnatural. If you're going to be mummified, at least have the muttonchops to get wrapped up first. I could go on for hours about how I hate muttonchops, lambchops, and all other hair styles that aren't mullets. In fact, put mullets on the list. At the top. I rue the day mullets were invented!

And if anyone says anything about pirates again, I'm gonna take you downtown and have a little talk with your principal. Because everyone has a principal, not in the academic sense, but in the political sense. Who is your principal but your mayor? You governor? Your emporer? It's all the same. It's all a blur to me now, as I sit watching Spumco cartoons over the Internet... how else am I supposed to see them?! I'd buy them, but where are the DVDs?! Not out yet. Never out. What's a robot gotta do to get some service around here?!