The soul is a cheat, constantly.

Thinking momentarily on the habit/knowledge/usefullness of robots, and making them (I was searching for Daft Punk images) I recalled a quote from a while back some afficionado said about the intelligence of robots:

"If you put together all the brains of the all the robots that exist, you'd get something as smart as a lobotomised cockroach."

Damning to be sure, but it gave me pause to consider why it's so fucking hard. Then I looked at myself and realised: I have no idea how I work, and we're trying to replicate THAT--self awareness. If we don't even know how to create that we surely can't replicate it in anything else, much less anything metalic and rubbery, instead of organic. For that matter we have proof that organic doesn't even dictate that intelligence/self awareness be present, ala trees, shrubs, and most of mount Druitt.

So I say the identity we all have, this soul we fixate on, is God, or our creators, or bloody luck's, easy-cheat way of saying "Oh yeah? Well they can think for themselves too, yeah!"

Honestly, to think further on it eyes developed because of sight, limbs because of a need of motion. EMOtions, therefore, and identity, formed as a response to something else, fellow-being interaction. Fellow-being not excluding animals and such, but communicating anything else with intelligence you come in contact with.

Emo is the ability to measure self worth. Influence is the ability to alter yours (or anothers) and the control of that usually determines a winner in this game we're all playing, in which no one actually remembers putting that $2 coin into the machine blinking "Insert coin to play."

Hense, the soul is a cheat. That's why we can't explain it, it doesn't bear examination.

Love you all.