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"Not now, sweetheart; the humans are watching."
"Let 'em. Maybe they'll learn something."
How is it that 5 different producers each thought there'd be anything to film in Berkeley at 6:40am?
It's 5:08pm, now, and they're back.
But unless they're paying tourists to give Karl Rove something to talk about on Fox, they're not going to find anything to report. Sure, a couple of elderly stoners [could be they just read way too much Daily Planet; the effect is the same] got all kvetch-y without considering applicable solutions to their never-quite-identified problems, were called on it, apologized, and tabled an official rescinding of the kvetch for the next week's meeting. And now it's the next week.
So they're having a city council meeting.
Woot.
This is not something to close the skate park over.
So why is the otherwise-blue sky black with reporter-toting helicopters?
We never have this problem with robots.
They may not boast much in the way of written communication skills, but the local pink folk sure can drum to wake the neighbors.
The prospect of some postdocs sneaking up to shave me and glue a box that's been rigged with an accelerometer and a little tiny hard drive to my back is #368 on my list of Reasons to Always Carry Weapon.
It's easy.