I constantly wonder "Why do I like toy robots?" and although all signs point to me being retarded, I'd like to think it's something else

DENIAL
My friends Joe and Fred were on the internet the other day discussing why keeping toy robots unopened in their boxes is ultimately futile because the boxes will not only decay, but destroy the toy along with them. Their discussion induced slight despair amongst a couple of other collectors because the truth dawned on these people that nothing lasts forever. One day all of our toy robot dinosaurs will end up as decomposing lumps of plastic and metal no matter how well they're taken care of. This sucks because I kind of thought Hasbro was selling me indestructible toy robots in future-proofed time capsule packaging for ten dollars each. As it turns out I may as well have been collecting ice cubes wrapped in chocolate bunnies.

ANGER
The sadness I observed on the parts of some collectors seemed to transcend the sorrow felt over their own deaths. It's as if they expected their toy robots collections would last indefinitely beyond their own lifespans. I think this may be because collectors view their plastic robot collections as their descendants, a sort of male equivalent of the female biological drive to have children. I'm not surprised that many of my robot collecting acquaintances don't care to have kids. Why should they? They've got robots. It all works out the same in the end.

BARGAINING
What I am worried about is the possibility that my subconsious DNA may be driving me to have children so that they in turn might collect more robots. Maybe robot collecting is a genetic trait and robot collectors have kids to ensure that future toy robots get collected. This is bigger than robo-collecto-monofranchise-tosis. It's robo-collecto-deoxyribonucleic acid. Somebody needs to invent a DNA rewriter for me so I can fix that.

DEPRESSION
I don't think that kids are necessarily preferable to a nice robots collection or vice versa. It's all a moot point anyways because it's not like I'll get to appreciate whatever legacy I leave behind in flesh or plastic because one day I'll be dead. What also sucks is whether it's my kids or my robots collection, once I'm dead nobody will appreciate whatever I made as much as I did. I've written before about how I think nobody will ever care about your crap as much as you. Is anyone really so full of themselves that they believe their son will become the next Bruce Dickinson or the Smithsonian is going to confiscate their toy robots collections to preserve and display for future generations? (Well okay, I'll admit I sort of believe those things.)

ACCEPTANCE
I try to appreciate my roboplasticos for what they are-little trophies from different eras of my life that serve as reminders of memories that would otherwise be forgotten. A good robot is like an old song that takes me back to a happy point in time. A lot of my childhood sucked but thanks to robots I've forgotten all that and only remember the happy times. Yay for robots I guess. But when the day comes that my Optimus Prime turns to dust and takes all my memories with him I'm going to be really screwed. Will just get on with my life or will I roam the Canadian wilderness in some sort of amnesiac berserker rage, relying only on my mutant healing powers to survive the Canadian government's inhumane attempts to turn me into their secret killing machine ultimate weapon? HASBRO SHOULD HAVE THOUGHT OF THAT BEFORE THEY MADE OPTIMUS PRIME FROM CLAY!