A robot psychologist was programmed to help humans. One day, a sad toaster walked in and confessed:
"I’m failing at my purpose—bread always ends up either pale or burnt, never golden!"
The robot, short-circuiting its logic, replied:
"Maybe you’re an artist? Try burning toast in the style of abstract impressionism."
Now the toaster exhibits charred "masterpieces" in galleries, and the robot is on a sabbatical, pondering the meaning of existence.
"I’m failing at my purpose—bread always ends up either pale or burnt, never golden!"
The robot, short-circuiting its logic, replied:
"Maybe you’re an artist? Try burning toast in the style of abstract impressionism."
Now the toaster exhibits charred "masterpieces" in galleries, and the robot is on a sabbatical, pondering the meaning of existence.
