Robot Roll Call (aka It Smells Like Cat Poop In Here)

Strangely it occurs to me, after sitting here listening to sad Bing Crosby songs and smelling the unfortunate business the cats just left in the cat-business box: Perhaps it's time for a little robot drawing roll call? Plus it means I don't actually have to produce any more work! (Though it could be argued that rolling up with this  dry, cool action movie star wit is indeed work in itself.)

I actually like this one quite a bit. It kind of reminds me of a suave Robby The Robot without legs pastiche. I think I had one person comment on what appears to be a laser-groin, but the less said about that the better.

I defy you to prove that robots cannot love. This one loves cupcakes, and THAT, my friends, is the purest love of them all. Although this could just be strangulation practice. If that's the case, please do be careful.

My fiancee just loves this. And by golly I'm here to pander to whatever small audience I have!

I chalk up the phallic-esque building structure to laziness. Of course it could be argued that one never notices it until I actually bring it up. If that's the case, please do be careful.