In arguments, as in most things in life, there’s a decided advantage to being a Giant Robot.
I don’t claim that this is fair.
Some of us, despite our rigorous attention to logic and rhetoric; despite our faithful attendance at the debate club; completely without reference to our careful preparation and well-reasoned arguments, were simply not born with gigantic cannons mounted in our chests. Through no fault (or merit) of our own, our fists are not five hundred pound mallets made for mayhem.
It’s not a level playing field, in other words.
All I can say is: buck up, keep a stiff upper lip, and be prepared to run through the streets while you shriek like the teakettle of doom.
I nearly didn’t complete this one because it could be too true to be funny.
But I did complete it, possibly to make sure that even argumentative Giant Robots can have their day, their t-shirt, and their poster. And since Giant Robots come in every size, shape, and disposition, there are shirts for men, women, and kids.
Please remember, though, that even if you have fists like five hundred pound mallets made for mayhem… you don’t have to use them.
