I have a proposition:
(1) Ninjas are sweet.
(2) Robots are sweet.
(3) Yet a robot ninja would not be sweet.
I say a proposition because I take the first two statements to be generally accepted and without need of justification on my part. It is only the third that I take to be at all controversial—after all, a robot monkey would be sweet.
My primary reason for believing that a robot ninja would not be sweet is that, while it might be impressive from a technical standpoint to create a robot that could perform the feats of the ninja, that which makes the ninja himself worthy of admiration inheres in his being human and, therefore, subject to uncertainty, slipping, etc. The sweetness of the ninja is a reminder of the fact that the condition of man's spirit being found at best is its being flesh-bound, though úncúmberèd through shéer will. When we catch sight of a ninja going about his day-to-day business—say, in his riding of a rolling steady underneath him level grappling hook—our hearts in hiding stir for the dude: the achieve of, the mastery of the ninja dwells in his execution, in his ordinary life, of the extraordinary. Even when he fails, he fails of necessity in a great attempt, which, if not praiseworthy, at least contains poignancy and pathos; when a robo-ninja falls and galls itself, gashing green circuit boards, there's only the grandeur of shook aluminum.
The condition of the robo-ninja is disenchantment.