There are so many things it cannot do.
It cannot do your taxes.
It cannot read or type.
It can't quote Lord Russell.
It cannot be wry, it is not in its nature.
It will never discover a cure for anything.
It can't say one thing and mean another.
This thing is so thick
it can't carry a grudge.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Exceptional title. Gets one thinking originally, and that's what it's about. Mike, best care. ~sjg