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New Monkey Brain-Controlled Robotic Arm Leaves Humanity So, So Fucked
PITTSBURGH (DPI) – According to HealthDay News, a
team of research scientists have arranged a way for
monkeys to control robotic arms using only the power
of their minds. This development, while altruistic in
intent and revolutionary in design, will spell certain
doom for the human race as our turd-chucking
evolutionary cousins will soon quite literally take
the upper hand.
Dr. Andrew Schwartz, professor at the University of
Pittsburgh School of Medicine and senior researcher on
this godforsaken project, insists that the project was
designed to create a way for victims of paralysis to
gain more self-reliance, and the monkeys are merely
test subjects. Though the project's intentions are
undeniably noble, the straight fact is that monkeys
can now control robotic arms with their fucking
In the successful experiments, a monkey with its arms
restrained fed itself fruits and nuts with a robotic
arm controlled by electrodes inside the subject's
motor cortex. Now that the monkey subject has seen
the benefit of the device already surgically implanted
in his brain, wresting control back from him will
prove nigh impossible. With the robotic arm at his
disposal, Chim Chim is likely next to kill all the
researchers, free himself from the restraints,
re-program the arm for mass duplication, and summon a
legion of monkeys to be refitted as merciless
cybernetic warriors bent on utter conquest of the
Dr. Schwartz and his team, blinded by benevolence in
their quest to bring dignity to the least fortunate of
our human brethren, has unwittingly ushered in all
humanity's ignoble end. Our future, the nightmarish
hellscape bastard progeny of the most chthonic
elements of The Terminator and Planet of the Apes,
is merely a question of time. Once our future simian Lord
Dominator stops using the implement of our impending
subservience to whack himself off.
(Reported by Carl Knorr)
Italian Authorities Discover Lost Studio of Leonardo DiCaprio
Dog Identifies Squirrel as Homeland Security Threat
First Round of Christmas Shit Hits Local Dumpsters
Spring Fashion: Anorexic-Skank Look Hanging on for Another Year
Mass Migration to Couch Spotted as Baseball Training Camps Open
Palestinian Tension Increases After Bush Demands Abbas Sing "Dancing Queen"
WASHINGTON (DPI) - Hopes for a new era of peace between the United States and Palestine fell
yesterday when President Bush ordered Palestinian President Mahmoud Abbas to sing "Dancing Queen"
the Oval Office just minutes into their initial meeting. Hours later, the president was still
fuming. "It isn't just about the song," said Mr. Bush, "though I do love that tune. It's about
honesty and trust. We spent hard-earned taxpayers' money to bring Abbas to our country, and
only member shows up. I can't even tell if he's the monkey-faced guitarist or the hairbag who
played the piano! You'd think at least *one* of those hot women would have come along."
(Reported by Kevin Paul Wickart)
Musing With Mitch
by Mitchell Kobriger
I can see why Charles is so gung-ho. That Lady Camilla is one fine-looking woman.
Maybe it's best America doesn't have a royal family. Hell, we still have our mitts full dealing with what's left of the Kennedys.
I don't know what's wrong with me, but for some reason, everything smells like leather today.
Did you know the turkey is the most adaptable animal on the planet? At the store, there's turkey bacon, turkey sausage, turkey dogs. Way to go, little fella.
I choose my beer based on how fast it'll take out a full grown snail.
I'm not through with Loggins and Messina. Not by a long shot.
I refuse to consume alcohol before noon. But when 12:01 rolls around, ol' Mitch breaks out the party hats!
I never really caught on to e-mail because I truly enjoy licking things.
Speaking of the Internet, can anyone show me how you get to where all the pretty bikini girls are? Thanks in advance.
Idea! How about a stereo that plays CDs, cassettes, records *and* 8-tracks. Some of us have a few of each.
There's nothing wrong with Randy Moss that my barber couldn't cure.
I'm not a big fan of broken bones, but if I had to break something, I'd make it my left hand, seeing as how I really don't need it and all.
Screw the doughboy -- nothin' says lovin' like my first catcher's mitt.
The Academy Awards are coming up and that can only mean one thing: that queso dip with the chunks of sausage in it.
Why is it that, with all the hatred in the world, nobody says jack about the Dutch?
When you get right down to it, I don't really know where I draw the line with the ladies. But I'm pretty content this way.