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As an ironic bird flip to those with rhythm, the Robot Dance is a disco ball resistance movement, a meticulously tooled cloak allowing one to forget the towering dream of getting funky without looking too square--a step used by commitmentphobes who like to be where the action's at but who don't want to risk busting a move. Yet there is another formula involving robots and resistance. Robots aren't suppose to have fun. Bottle catsup, blow shit up, assemble driveshafts at our behest--yes. But to enjoy themselves like Ceasar returning to Rome? The Man palls at such balls. This week, the current's going to hit a superconducting jam-up, so if you find yourself robot dancing, figure out whether it's a resistance of the Freudian or Asimovian ilk. Whether said ohming is psychoanalytic or sci-fi, remember: a society gets the dancing it deserves.
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