Not much happened today, diary. I went and saw that Avatar movie and I didn't really get it. The explosions were cool, but I could have done without all of the talking. On the upside I got one of those super tubs of popcorn, so I won't have to grocery shop for a few...

...This is Bernard Magnusson III. The hour is 11:34 PM on the 22nd of December, 2009. I shall begin my quarterly diagnostics of the re-calibrated Palin-Bot 5000 in preparation for the new year. I would have waited until a more convenient time in January, but my Sarah's calculations revealed an unfortunate quirk in our admittedly hasty design. It appears that our programming architecture for the PB5K may suffer a critical error when it registers the year as 2010, given that all of the values we installed relied upon a year ending in 9. Should the machine process the date and find its fourth digit at zero, it has a 70% probability of perceiving the year to be 2000 and thus declaring itself the mayor of Wasilla, Alaska. This outcome, according to our projected events calender, is only slightly more destructive than the 20% probability that the error will send the PB5K into full organic neutralization mode.

Upon my initial diagnostic analysis it appears that all internal functionality has remained sturdy, minus the expected wear and tear of the book tour and the frequent tanning procedures. However, I have discovered a small series of ruptures in the food processing system that may or may not have resulted from the ingestion of an inhuman quantity of popcorn. Further complicating the matter is the inexplicable presence of an estimated four kilograms of bubblegum. Now it is simply a matter of weighing the relative merits of altering the dietary protocols or maintaining a believable artificial intelligence construct.

I intend to download the central processing core for a more in-depth analysis once I return to Monaco where Sarah can apply her considerable programming talents to a cleanup and refinement of the personality and decision-making matrix. However, at first glance I can already notice some curious artifacts in the input-output system that seem to suggest a slightly more... well, psychopathic bent. I fear this may be the work of a third set of hands and I have some theories, however unfounded, as to whose.

When Sarah and I were on a humanitarian mission in the war-torn northern quadrants of the Republic of Georgia we had something of a tussle with some mysterious mercenaries. Though they refused to reveal their employer and the strongest of them expired during interrogation, there is a high likelihood that they were dispatched via a rather shadowy hedge fund tangentially connected to Oprah Winfrey's unpublicized energy syndicate. The trail is thin and tepid, but she is the only force in this world with both the means and the impetus to toy with such dangerous technology.

At any rate, the foreign code is sloppy and I should have no problem removing it. Still, I'll ask Sarah to double-check my work. One can never be too careful where autonomous android mechanisms and hand-held fusion reactors are concerned. Full systems diagnostics indicate no other tampering and all processes are currently safe. This is Bernard Magnusson III signing off...

...days, which is a relief because that Whole Foods place is so expensive. Anyway, it's pretty late and I don't feel much like writing. Plus, my hands are covered in imitation butter. G'night, diary.