Far be it for me, a human being, to remain skeptical of the results from a computer generated app that scientifically goes but skin deep in breaking down one's emotional makeup, but I think that's exactly I'm going to have to do in questioning this Reddit user's findings regarding Kawhi Leonard's attempt at a smile... Don't get me wrong, based only on the picture I'd say 38% happy is pretty close to accurate. In my opinion, the 60% neutral can probably be split into 30% lifeless and 30% concerned about the gun pointed at him from behind the camera, but all-in-all it's not the worst educated guess at the silent sulker's state of satisfaction. I just have one question. How are we to know that whatever program was more than likely being run to update the emotional range of this semi-self-conscious robot had finished uploading at the time of this picture being taken? That grin looks like it belongs to someone, or something, that's still trying to reteach itself how to grin after a thorough wiping of its memory and therefore I'm quite certain this was snapped mid-buffer of his sterilization of all things San Antonio. Had they given him five more minutes to reconfigure himself, who knows what type of expression we'd be left presumptuously dissecting?!? It could have been anything from his lips actually curling to portray genuine excitement (though doubtful) to smoke billowing out of his ears as his alarm started blaring while an error message reading "unauthorized access to mild gratification" scrolled across his sternum. The showing of teeth leads me to believe that the upper 30th percentile of joy is spot on, but the blankness of the stare leads me to believe that's just his factory setting while his uncle tries to figure out how to re-download irreparable resentment into his repertoire. I guess we'll find out more when the season starts, and that guess will probably prove incorrect if this past offseason is any indication. Simply put, I know no more about Kawhi Leonard's emotional state now than I did before I spent far too much time squinting at a picture of someone who, upon 276th look, might have been delivered straight from Madame Tussauds' Wax Museum to the gym of a franchise that was desperate to make it seem like they didn't trade for the expiring contract of an insatiable superstar.
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