All I need to know, I learned from “Robocop.”
One of my all-time favorite movies as a kid was “Robocop.” It was the first R-rated movie I was allowed to watch and it was a doozy. (Oh, for the record I am not talking about the new Robocop that came out last year, I don’t know nothing abut that shiz.) In the first ten minutes, a man is accidentally and very graphically is turned into human-hamburger by the twin Gatling cannons of the flawed street protection prototype, ED-209; a cop is torturously shot apart, limb by limb by an evil drug lord; and the F-word is dropped about 1000 times.
Robocop’s kid was not allowed to watch the movie “Robocop.”
You can question my father’s parenting decisions all you want for showing that movie to a nine year-old, but…no buts, you should question my dad’s parenting decisions. (I do. Every day. That movie really messed me up when I was a little kid. I mean a guy gets liquefied by an oncoming car after being covered in toxic waste!?:
Call child protective services. I don’t care that I am 35, somebody find me a foster home. ) I have to tell myself that my pops was not purposely trying to scar me psychologically, but trying to teach me some valuable lessons showing me this film: corporations are evil and they will literally turn you into hamburger if you let them; crime doesn’t pay; and of course the most important lesson that any father can teach his son, being a part-robot/ part man with a gun that comes out of your leg and laser-targeting eyesight would be the coolest thing ever. (If you have never seen Robocop, after you turn yourself in for being un-American watch this youtube video which is basically the whole movie in rap form ):
I took this lesson to heart. I even used to walk around in stiff-Robocop fashion and imitate the sounds his hydraulic legs made with my mouth. Like so many young-men of my generation, I wanted to grow-up and become a cyborg. Recently, after finishing a four-day trip where I flew 18
Robocop had an uncle that no one talked about. Family members called him, “Robodrunk.”
flights in four days, I had the realization that I had achieved my dreams, sort of. At least I was doing a job that was better suited for cyborgs. Hurray.
It’s really only partly an exaggeration. Every one of those flights is totally meaningless to me. People ask me where I flew to and I can’t remember where and they usually say something off-handed like, “Shouldn’t you know that kind of thing?” I started answering those questions with my best Robocop voice, “To a safe destination, without incident.” Then I turn and walk away making hydraulic noises with my mouth.
What they don’t understand is that what my job description as a pilot, is basically to ensure the plane gets from one place to the next by following a predetermined sequence of events, with the least amount of deviation possible. For all the places we go, this sequence is generally the same. So in a lot of ways, each flight is inseparable from the next, especially if they are to the same five locations over and over. Even in the hypothetical situation, that something goes wrong, there is a predetermined protocol that I am supposed to follow to deal with a non-standard situation to achieve a safe final outcome. Sometimes I feel like I am just an external processor to the computer brain of the airplane, one made of doughy flesh and blood instead of silicone and metal. Sounds pretty cyborg to me.
Why did I not know that this was a video game. These are my two favorite chilhood movies!
The bad kind of cyborg.
So thinking about my life as a cyborg got me thinking about everybody else’s life. How many people have grown-up to a do a job where they go through the motions every day? Where they quit having to learn or think or do anything new a long time ago? Where they can’t distinguish one day at work from the next? How many people, even when they get home, go through the same routine so much so that it all blends together? Is this living? No. It’s becoming the bad kind of cyborg. Under deep reflection, the greatest lesson I learned from Robocop is that there are two kinds of cyborgs: The good kind, which has an awesome titanium exterior with lots of cool gadgets, but is human on the inside (like Robocop); and the bad kind which looks like a human on the outside but is cold, heartless steel on the inside (like the soulless CEOs at Omnicorp).
The bad kind of cyborg?
We can’t let ourselves become the bad kind of cyborg. In some way, everyday, we should do something to say to the machine that we are more human than robot. We must remind ourselves that we are alive and that are not purely a product of a pre-determined program. Yes, we may usually do things the same way but the beautiful thing about being a human is that at any moment we can change our minds. Don’t listen to the materialists. Prove them wrong by doing something against your program.
It’s time to reclaim what’s your “humanity,” just like Murphy.
It could be something crazy like jumping out of a plane or running a marathon, but it doesn’t have to be. In fact, I think it should be something much simpler, just something out of character to say, “I’m alive and can do what I want.” Here’s my suggestion: Walk up to your boss, or up to your neighbor or to someone random at the food court in the mall and say, “Drop your weapon, you are under arrest. Dead or alive you are coming with me.” Then walk away without explanation, making hydraulic noises with your mouth. You see ironically, in this situation, by acting like a robot, you have proved that you are not one.(Watch Robocop take back his manhood. Warning this is the most inspirational scene in Robocop. If you haven’t seen it before, you have to watch the whole movie before you can watch this. If you have already seen it, you are allowed to dance as the credits roll):
P.S. Thanks dad. I think I know what you were trying to teach me me now. I’m sorry they are hauling you away for being a bad parent.
I love you dad. I’ll write everyday.
