Champions of Society: Welcome Our New Sex Robot Overlords

From time to time, we here at the Diary must ponder the Big Questions. Why are we here? What does it all mean? Is there a god? How does Kevin Costner keep getting work? And for the record, the answers are, "no real reason," "a whole lot of not much," "absolutely not" and "naked pictures of all the studio heads."

But sometimes, the not-so-big questions are also taken on. Today, it's, "What do men want?" And the answers to this are many. Beer? Yes. HD sports? That too. A backscratch once in awhile? HELL, yes. But the one thing men want more than anything else is the one thing they can't really buy. Well, not LEGALLY, that is.

Until now. Well...sort of, anyway.

Recently, an intrepid entrepreneur named Douglas Hines decided to remedy this oversight. And in service of this, he's created what he claims is the world's first "sex robot," affectionately named "Roxxxy." Her list price? Around $7,000.

That's her. Ain't she a looker?

"She doesn't vacuum or cook, but she does almost everything else," says her creator. Ho-boy.

Hines claims Roxxxy is a major advancement over, say a RealDoll (and do NOT click that link if you are currently sane, at work, or don't know how to clear your browser history. I mean it). This is because, in addition to being ready, willing and able to satisfy a customer's "needs" via her anatomically-correct orifices, she also has a specialized computer inside that li'l rubbery head. A computer that can understand what you are saying to it, and respond with any of several hundred appropriate phrases.

But that's not all. Because in addition to being able to respond to your conversation, Roxxy's computer is also able to allow her to simulate an orgasm - both through vocal sounds, as well as a motor that allows her to "shudder."

Y'know...kind of like what I'm doing right now...
though not for the same reasons, exactly.

The mind boggles.

Looking at that photo, and giving this whole bizarre scenario several serious seconds' worth of deep thought, I arrive at several important questions:

A) If I wanted to get it on with a stroke victim, there are no doubt countless group home residents who couldn't legally object.

B) Has there ever been a dude who looked like he possessed both the means and the need to create a sex robot more than this guy?

And perhaps most importantly:

C) Roxxxy can "carry on a conversation, and have a simulated orgasm." Pardon my pragmatism, but WHY?!?

Sorry, but this is ultimately a SEX TOY. So I utterly fail to see the point of either of those in this context. Do you really think the kind of guy who is so hard up that he needs to drop 7K on a receptacle really gives a shit whether she talks back, or gets off?

I'm gonna need a pretty big truck to deliver the answer to that.

And even if he does, that's gotta be the saddest thing in the entire goddamn universe. Sadder than Old Yeller, Brian's Song and whatever it is that Nikki Cox did to her face put together. Because while I can accept that there are dudes out there who are so unlucky with women that they can see spending the kind of money you could take a years' worth of nice singles' cruises with on a life-size, realistic faux femme to put the wood to...I have a hard time wrapping my brain around the level of sheer, abject loneliness-spiked desperation that would drive someone to not only want said ersatz lass to climax right along with him, but to also cuddle and chat afterwards.

But, apparently, those guys are out there. Since news of Roxxxy first hit the market, there's been a considerable interest. According to Creepy McDollfucker up there, more than 4,000 men have placed pre-orders for bone-bots, and another 20,000 or so have requested information. Eeeurgh. I mean...I know that based on tech trends, human nature, and several decades worth of sci-fi, a "sex droid" is absolutely inevitable. I get that. But MAN.

Coming soon: this. Probably.

Here's a freshly-pulled-from-my-ass testimonial from an average customer: "Yeah...It's not just that I can't SLEEP with women, I can't even TALK to them. And at least I don't have to ASK Roxxxy if her orgasm was real...Because I know it wasn't. But I'm really okay with that. Now, I would ask you to shut the door and back away slowly, but I can see you're waaaaay ahead of me there."

What better way to tell the world that the only way to express your level of social awkwardness is to use college-level algebra?

(P.S. - Big up to Moses Rodcancer for the link.)