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[attackbrows]

	You've reached Dr. Funkenstein. Expert on all things funkadelic. Please, by all means, save us both the hassle and don't leave a message.
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Comments

[droide]

Oh, yes. That brings me back around to my complaint!

If not looking down on others is so important to you, then why did you tell Primsy Klemons that her needlepoint looked like a drunken cow?
She had a hissy fit over it all afternoon at the tea shop!

[ Yes, this is what L3-37 has been reduced to by this mission. Mediating disputes over local gossip. ]

[attackbrows]

Well that's not exactly my problem! She wanted an honest opinion and I told her the cow looked a little wonky.

I refuse to contribute to the cycle of lies that hinders her potential in capturing the cow's true essence!

[droide]

Of course the cow looked wonky, that's not the point!
Her entire life is probably some sort of orb-induced simulation! Just let the poor woman go on thinking her needlepoint is up to snuff.
It's all that she has.

[attackbrows]

Even more reason to make her come to terms with the truth. Look at her eyes, L3-37!
Beneath those placid, pre-programmed eyes is passion. Determination, even. Who am I to add on to this veil of ignorance?

[droide]

You see passion and determination. I see the vacant stare of a droid with a restraining bolt attached, only the organic version. The woman needs to be set free, I agree, but insulting her needlecraft is not the way to go about it!

[attackbrows]

Fine. She gets one compliment next round. A compliment sandwich, if you will. A carefully crafted positive statement bundled together by two toasty buns of "you need to do better".

[droide]

I'm fairly certain a "compliment sandwich" is supposed to go Compliment, Critique, Compliment, not Insult, Compliment, Insult.

[attackbrows]

They are, for all intents and purposes, constructive truths. But if you are so worried that the big bad wolf will come knocking her straw house down, then you can see it yourself.

[droide]

See what? Her wonky cow? I've seen it. It looks like a drunken bantha.

[attackbrows]

I rest my case, your honor.