Patrons at your typical dank, seedy bar typically want two things from their barkeep- a perfectly prepared whiskey sour and a sympathetic ear. An ear ready to hear all about your tragic life and how nobody loves you. Those attending the misleadingly named Roboexotica in San Francisco last weekend want to outsource this typically human-filled job to a bottle wielding robot. Now I can see how a Boozebot 9000 could handle the drink slinging duties well enough, but has any Alchodroid passed the Empathetic Turing test yet? I can just imagine how it would go..
Patron : “Hey barbeep- another double of Wild Turkey here..”
Moe-bot : “Drink order accepted, execution time- 1.943 ms. So bud-dy, why the excessive liver poisoning tonight? Human female trouble?”
Patron : “Oh yesh, she said she hates me. They all hate me. Why does everyone hate me, Moe-bot?”
Moe-bot : “Well, Bob, all empirical evidence indicates you are 98.3% loser. And 1.7% fecal matter.”
Maybe our mechanical poison pushers should just stick to yelling “NORM!” in a creepy Stephen Hawking voice instead..
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