Bots are some of my most faithful readers. They are really stand-up guys, these bots–always first in line to “like” what I have written. Their “likes” arrives in my mailbox like a birthday card, very often decorated with a photo of a fetching lass, inviting me to pop round to her website and read what she has written. To an unpopular writer, these bots are like sex dolls to an unpopular guy. They are a simulacrum in which I would like to believe. But this is hard to do because bots, like sex dolls, are dumb. Here’s a “like” from an outfit called My Queer Sky. I suppose this bot has decided that I am a repressed homosexual with an unhealthy mania for the really stern bits in Leviticus, or maybe it just knew I’d be a sucker for “adorable LGBTQ animation short films” (who knew).
(Likes from real readers and writers are, incidentally, much appreciated. When time allows, I usually follow the links back to your site and read something you have written.)