The Topic: More's the Pity

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Dear Mr T., Professor Frink, and (begrudgingly) Pitymatic 4000,

Pity me, for I am shocked saddened to think that the cold, ruthlessly efficient pity generated by a machine could ever equal the righteous, slightly menacing brand of pity so lovingly dispensed by our dear Mr. Tureaud. Professor Frink, I implore you to cease this madness you call progress, and accept the truth that the quality of a man's pity can never be matched by silicon and chips, or whatever such folderol you've fabricated this foolish synthetic pity machine of.

Kindest Regards,
Glyph

Responses:

Professor Frink

My heavens, you're right! I've tampered in God's domain, with the science and the equations and the machines that run amok destroying humanity...

I hereby resign from the competition, Mister T.

Mr. T

That's alotta jibba-jabba, but I graciously accept.

Professor Frink

And I can assure you that this has nothing to do with the fact that the Pitymatic 4000 is overheating to dangerous levels, mmm-hey.

I think I'll just switch the ol' girl off, bw-hey...

Just, uh, switch 'er off...

Professor Frink

And the plug, the plug has FUSED, fused into the outlet, and the sparking, and and the oh my coat, it's not flameproof and it hurts bhay-gn-flay-vn!

Mr. T

I pity this plotline.

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