The rhyme of the modern Zoidoler

"I come from the future where everything is stupid!
We watched too much robot cartoons and our minds got polluted!"

So cried the crazy stranger who came from nowhere.
Speaking to future beings I should not have dared,
but in my knight's armor I begged in despair,
"Telleth us past peoples more, that we may yet prepare!"

"Well first, beware gas! It gets real expensive!
And don't spend your money on collections extensive!"

You speaketh in riddles, my time travelling friend!
Of what do you speak that causeth mankind to descend?
Collections of what, dear sir dideth you spend?
What leadeth our future to this dire dead end?!

"TOY ROBOTS I SAY! PLASTIC MECHA TRINKETS FROM HELL!"
We go-bought them all day like crack addicts!" he yelled.

"We should have made energies, studied science and invention!
Instead we spent our time going to toy robots conventions.
And nobody would kill their toy robots collections
and 2008 was too late to correct our directions."

I saideth, "You speak madness! How could man be so insane?
To squander precious petrol making robot dinosaurs and planes?"

He said, "We just wanted escape from life's hussle and fuss!
And blessed escape our toy robots sure brought us.
But it got hard to escape, I think back now in disgust,
when all our toy robots were made of petroleum products.

"It will never cometh to pass! I say, future boy!
Plastic from the earth is in unending supply!
and collecting toy robots is not civilization's decline!"
My anger at a boil, the stranger looked at me and smiled
"You can live in denial, mister knight from old times
But we used all the oil to make Optimus Primes!"

I'd hadeth enough! It began to dawneth on me
Maybe we really did have a Transformer based economy
And maybe the Zoids really did make us poor
But that the stranger knew the real truth I had to ensure

So I saideth "You're no time traveler from some terrible robot future
of priorities goneth awry via antisocial roboculture,
And if you are, future man, tell me who made us this way then
Name thine future robot lord, the plastic king that ledeth astray men!
Who is he with whom the blame layeth the largest portion?
So thateth we may prepareth for his coming with roboplastic abortion!

And the stranger lay stunned, shocked by what I'd wanted done
but after struggling in his mind he resigned and sighed:
"I am your future lord, your troubles are all mine!
I was the last robot boss, I was the captain of the Macross.
I was the king of Optimus Primes."

"But my name I cannot give-with the life's path I've in mind
I'll go back and craft a Robotroid free future for you to find!"
Then he vanished in a flash-the evil king departed from his past
but on the ground he droppeth a shiny clue behind!

It was a magic demon iPod that with but a touch and a nod
came alive through some accursed scroll wheel wizardry
Radiating brightly on tiny screen a betrayed identity!
At last I knowedeth who the robotastic pied piper will be!
So a warning I give to thee; beware the letters R-F-C
And the roboradio activity of its author-Brian Kilby!