| NOTICE: Page best viewed while listening to Mr. Roboto. |
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Our Battle with Mr. Roboto: as told through the camera of slack |
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A harrowing journey of 7 men trying to find themselves behind the mask of technology. Unsure of thier position and lot in life. They strike out on a lonely path, conscience in hand they dual that man behind the mask. Mr. Roboto is truly a devilish enemy, and only 1 can remain standing. |
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| As the grand battle rages on psychotic flagellations of the limbs ensue. The parts made in Japan begin to show their stress. The mask of Mr. Robot begins to wear thin. | |
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| And still, the battle rages on. | |
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| As the insane lyrics of Mr. Roboto pound on, all inhibitions are shed, the mind breaks down. | |
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| Even the inanimate objects about the room are unable to escape the control of Mr. Roboto. | |
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| Slurpee and jersey. Nate Dawg frees his mind, and naturally his booty follows. | |
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| See the smile of a man effected to the bitter core by the infectious beats of that dreaded Mr. Roboto. | |
| Even the strong of mind and body are no match for Mr. Roboto. His firey hot emotion, poured out through lyric and song touches everyone... Including Dr. Dick... |  |
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| Woah, look at those locks fly. | |
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And in the end, we all walk away, no better and no worse. As a matter of fact, we are all just a little tired. For all the dancing and gyration has caused us to sweat. Something that we will be very aware of in the future.
Thank you Styx, and Mr. Roboto. |