When you’ve bitten off more than you can chew, best not try to swallow.
Normal programming will resume momentarily.
No it won’t.
Workbench now and public blogs later?
When you’ve bitten off more than you can chew, best not try to swallow.
Normal programming will resume momentarily.
No it won’t.
Triggers: Political bashing. Absolutely NOT politically correct.
Ah, but it is!
Triggers: Innuendo. Language.
Wokies! Help me out here!
What federal agency do I petition to insure my rights are protected against mishap interacting with an entity believing it to be human[ish] only to be intellectually raped by something the likes of that the Yewboob crew [etc] sic on me in the form of an AI or “chatbot”?
I liken the advent of bot introduction this way to legalizing sex dolls as life partners, and demanding their acceptance as such, be taught starting in pre-school.
Yet another dreadful abnormality brought about by mistaken societal insistence that anything smelling of “computer” is cool, beneficial, and innocent.
No. I’m okay with technology. I’m against overuse of technology just to be able to say, “we use computer-controlled robotics to sort, grade, and pack your strawberries.” [This, by the way, and only since you asked, will add a mere 30% to the retail price of half a pint of nearly-ripe berries.]
Well then, it’s “progress”
No. It’s not. It’s one more bit of independence and reality taken away.
IoT, IA, chatbots, web-enabled self-serve, all that bullshit is just that. It will not be long before the predominant use of this malware is for thievery, misdirection, and subjugation of independence. [Indeed, that time is here already!]
No, it will be for the benefit of mankind
What rock did you just crawl out from under? What is the end-all be all? It is this: I have all my money, now I want all your money. AI and chatbots will not be dedicated to making you healthier, safer, and happier; they will be used to facilitate lining someone else’s pockets with the fruits of your labors.
Aw, c’mon, man, it ain’t that bad
It is. Spam. USPS mailboxes stuffed with cheats, scams and rip-offs. Identity theft. On-line bullying. Fraud of every imaginable sort. Telemarketing. Piss-poor customer support. Shoddy products and product service delivery. [Who you gonna rail at, some bot? Will Congers hold corporations responsible for the evils brought to consumers?]
Who am I gonna call? Bot Busters?
Triggers: Not PC. Dem bashing. Celebrity bashing. Language. Contains Hi-fructose corn sugars.
See where [according to CNBC] a Manhattan District Attorney publicly announced “his office” might be expected [I guess] to don police uniforms and “not tolerate threats to the rule of law” because former president Loose Cannon suggests [his] supporters should protest [his pending arrest].
Do tell. I’m gonna feel this DA individual perfectly represents the skewed [or entirely missing] logic exhibited by ethnic group leaders, “in” Democrats, and Follywood and NFL/NBA dorks. Persons [?] who suggest folk unhappy with the quo of status take [sometimes even insisting on doing so with violence] to the streets to [peacefully?] express themselves.
In other words?
It’s okay for Democrats [and misguided others] to come right out and tell impressionable twinks [who Dems and others] use to further disrupt functioning society, endanger lives, and cause widespread suffering to hit the streets. But not okay for [any] non-Democrat to do any such thing.
I missed the memo
Could someone pull a copy from archives and forward it to me?
Moral guidance from celebrities?
Of course. Not. I hope, should I ever for whatever reason become [may all the gods from wherever they rule, forbid] a celebrity, I have learned by that time to keep my f****** mouth shut. So many celebrities I’ve had a modest amount of respect [even admiration] for have opened their yappers and revealed themselves complete morons. It’s okay to be a celebrity. Fine. Party on. But stop giving your opinions. You’re losing sales.
I’m entitled to return the favor. Someone needs to take a long walk in the woods.
No one is above the law
Yeah. In theory. But if you’re a Democrat, given Democrats presently rule the roost, you’re exempt from the rigors of “law,” apparently any “law.”
Then there’s Rasputin. Oh. No. Wait. He’s in a different country. Thank goodness for the ICC [not the Interstate Commerce Commission] and their power to bring about justice. Wait. No. But also, wait. No. Is pretty boy Petey in charge of our ICC? Again, no. Wait. That’s the Transportation something-or-other.
And you were thinking I’d forget. Sleepy has “begun” deporting individuals back to Russia. That there is good news.
No. Dammit. Wait.
It’s not Sleepy and his handlers and cronies being deported. Sleepy is deporting other people back to Russia. Shit. I thought that was too good to be true.
But then shouldn’t Sleepy San be deported to China?
It’s a brand new week coming
Can’t hardly wait to see what it brings.
It’s really not funny but
MSM is more comedic than Three Stooges episodes. Okay, half is the fault of life as we know it, 60 percent owing to MSM’s axe-grinding, and 10 percent to editorial staff illiteracy.
Why not laugh? Crying hurts.
The ICC issues an arrest warrant for Pukin.1 Can you imagine the wild-west style poster? How do we contact the ICC about political crimes here in the USoffA?
Trial by MSM
Law enforcement “agencies” prepare for a Trump arrest.2 I’m going to hold out for warrants issued by the ICC. Maybe a mass arrest? Just throw barbed wire around the District of Corruption. Kind of a house arrest.
A blow to Florida’s tourism industry
Two natural assaults on Florida beaches.3 Spring break anyone?
StuLoan Forgiveness falters
So, how about this ploy? Make Wokers and non-Wokers alike believe [hope] something might actually be done to punish criminal executives involved.4
Furman upsets Virginia
Washington District of Crime crime
Gifts to former president Trump are missing.6 Umm. Ask Sleepy. Or maybe look in sticky-fingers Sleepy’s closet.
Minnesota has an opportunity to be the newest supplier of “enhanced” drinking water.7 You know, the designer water market. I mean, folks pay good money to eat Fugu, right? Isn’t Minnesota predominantly Democrat? Maybe a lot of folk already drinking the stuff.
My [new] home state
I looked hard to find something reported in a manner to make me see something funny about any of it. Nothing. Not that there aren’t some swell opportunities just waiting for MSM reporting. They’re obviously tied-up with californica and Ohio.
1 Pick your poison; Fox CNN New York Times Sorry, Talltree Times and Trader has neither put up a pretend bulletin nor editorialized. The spelling error, for those of you who are not regular here, is intentional. It prompts subconscious enunciation – “pew-kin.” So evil as to make you puke. Nearly as evil as Sleepy Creepy or any other USoffAn politician.
2 NBC News
3 CBS News
4 New York Times
5 Other than sportatoes in North Carolina and Virginia? No link here: already too many electrons have sacrificed because of this schoolyard drivel.
6 Washington Post
7 NBC News
Triggers: Not PC (duh). Politics. Grumpy Old Mannishness.
Lexiphobes, relax. Barely 500 words. Your latte won’t have time to cool.
[Note: As an IT or information technology guy for over 50 years I understand all the steam about Artificial Intelligence. Not prevaricating. I just fingered it up again, and that’s correct: fifty-six years. While understanding the edgy sci-fi excitement AI engenders, I am hard pressed to understand the “intelligence part,” both imagined by the general population, many considering themselves computists (in many cases believing themselves “expert”) and coveted by bleeding edge professional [which absolutely does not mean “expert”] computists as indicative of their having contributed to the wellbeing of mankind.]
We certainly could use some intelligence. If all we can avail ourselves of is artificial intelligence, I reckon we’d best glom onto it. For a bit of excitement, let’s consider it a race between artificial meat and artificial intelligence: which comes fully to fruition without detriment to humans?
Did he say “detriment”?
He did. Argue all you want about the benefits of AI. [Or for that matter, the benefits of petri-dish non-animal animal products.] Then consider the splendor of smellcheck, the wisdom of search engines, the idiosyncratic invasion of privacy by the IoT, the efficiency of computerized automotive everything, the light-to-dark expediency of electrosilicon controlled bagel toasting for starters.
Are you ready to be wheeled into the OR for heart valve replacement conducted entirely by AI controlled robot? [The fun we could have discussing the accuracy and efficiency of human doctors and doctors’ turning-over practice management to business specialists begs its moment, but let’s save that for another day, shall we?] Do you want micro-miniaturized robots injected into your bloodstream to perform chemical and viral analyses to prescribe your medications, indeed, to automatically poop prescribed chemicals into you?
Are you delighted with AI controlled and managed snoops into your personal information [expressly including financial and political information] resulting in spamfests lodged in your laptop, cellphone, e-reader, fitness watch, and coffee pot? Think liberal or conservative axe-grinders will pause to consider ethics before using how you last voted to mark you for retribution [punishment] in the form of firearm confiscation or reduction in your already suffering retirement income?
Having trouble with that last one? Ever had your computer stolen or corrupted by virus? Ever been, or know someone who has been victim of identity theft? Like it or not, these ills trace parentage back to things-automata.
Are you so enamored with Science Fiction you think global thermonuclear war will be fun to watch? Especially since Asian, Middle East, Eastern European, and American mindsets will have independently laid the like-it-or-not biased groundwork for heuristic software engineering controlling military-everything?
There might be real advantages
Let’s inoculate Democrats with AI serums. If it doesn’t kill them, let’s quickly next improve the mental health of Repullicans. Changes anything short of death considered beneficial, let’s then direct attentions to Tree-Huggers, Wokers of all sorts, Influencers from sports and Hollywood especially, single-purpose axe-grinders, and grumpy old men.
Fast tracking a return to Eden?
No, Bobbie Jo. AI ain’t the long elusive silver bullet.
Triggers: Non-PC innuendo. californica bashing. Politics.
On the calendar
Happy St. Patrick’s Day.
My father, a storyteller of the first water, led us, his children, to believe for years his birthday was St. Patrick’s Day. Truth be known, it was June or something. Reckon big sis knows Dad’s real birthdate. It is likely I’ve been told more than once what his real birthday was. I don’t care. When St. Patrick’s Day rolls around, it is time to celebrate Dad’s birthday. It’s exotic, confusing, and brings to mind all of what made Dad Dad.
See where there’s a woman has announced, for the second time, she is seeking the Democratic nomination for president in 2024. Already she’s been hit with scandalous MSM accusations of her unfitness. Something about being less than her professed self-help persona.
Is it not interesting that Democrats sling mud at persons of political orientation other than the true and given way, the Democratic Party Way? Equally amusing, to stay in top truth engineering form, lacking targets of other parties to lambaste, they attack their own, isn’t it? Rather like the body’s rogue cells, turning cancerous, ultimately to the ruin of healthy cells.
I’ll go out on an editorial limb here. I’m thinking this is all part of the Democratic strategy. Lacking good [excuse the word] candidates for shredding, they have no current non-Democrats to attack, so they offer-up one of their own. This first serves to draw attention from the vaudeville act broadcast from the District of Clowns, especially the too-long running antics from the Opioid Office. [Did someone say, “Crime, corruption, gender-shenanigans?] Second, and oddly true at the same time despite the fact the sacrificed individual is one of their own, this suggests to the voters everywhere, “Not to worry. The Democratic Party has your interests at heart and will protect you from evil people like this!”
Surely Democrats can turn over a rock and find someone unblemished to put up in 2024. No. Wait. That’s science fiction. Don’t even think of a candidate from those Dems currently in the spotlight. If you do, it will turn your stomach.
Brilliant. Focus away from the thieving, cowardly, shallow, evil ****-show’s main players, simultaneously implying these same actors represent redemption. Personally I am more than a little concerned that Democrats know they can work this to their advantage [and citizens’ disadvantage, because a large number, but not a real majority, of “voters” swallow this ka-ka].
[Repullicans are no better. So there you have it. Fairness in reporting.]
End of nastiness
There have been many sporting happenings – players, teams, players’ advice on how we should conduct our lives. Let’s just touch on the really, really important sporting news.
[Umm. I got nothing.]
Spring is springing? Well, I’ve not seen the latest meteorological updates from californica; I’ve been intentionally avoiding that to keep my BP at a manageable level.
But here in the Rust Belt, temperatures are springy. Rains have melted most accumulated snow. Robins are out in force. I’ve not seen asparagus poking through autumn’s detritus, but chives are struggling to turn green, and it just smells like spring.
“Smells like spring”?
Uh-huh. Farmers and gardeners know you can smell spring. Little League and school baseballers too, when the big lawn tractor starts pulling a hunk of chain link fence around the infield to smooth it out in advance of cleats, ‘Ronnie the Arm’ signature gloves, and hefty hunks of hickory coming out of the closet.
It’s that earthy smell but it’s not the smell of autumn, of winter’s falling snow, or mid-summer’s freshly cut alfalfa. Different. Equally delightful but spring is what we need now. Especially here in the Rust Belt. We’re tired of, done with, winter. Tired of politics too, but we stand better chances of changing or at least surviving Nature’s seasons.
Bought Grade A Large eggs for $2.25 a dozen day before yesterday. Not yet “normal” but a hang sight better than $5/dozen. Retail pork prices are down. Milk prices remain stupidly inflated. Good to see egg prices down as my cholesterol test results are back, they read well, and I’ve been missing sunny-up eggs for a goodly while.
Faux Meat companies still have a lot of kinks to work out. If they do and manage to nail problems of sorry taste, aroma, and mouthfeel, they are going to be good investments. [Not opining that eliminating animal protein is healthy, ethical, or religiously correct (read the Bible, for instance)] but with all the Wokers, foo-foo Trenders, and otherwise confused, market share will certainly increase.
Faux meat? Protein sources different from what we’re accustomed to and comfortable with. Hey! Eggs! Who is gonna manufacture eggs? Print them? Feasible, I suppose. Put them in a shell? Made of what? Shellacked wheat straw? Plastic? [My money is on plastic. In deference to suffering petrochemical industries.
Can hardly wait. EcoEggs will sell for $4.95 per half dozen, taste like yesterday’s dishwater, have the mouthfeel of pond scum, and further deplete global supplies of plant protein.
For today’s Happy-happy slant
I briefly scoured my newsfeeds for material. That limited search offering-up nothing, I am going to bag it for today, lest I be forced to read of californica’s woes. Just no satisfying those Wokers. They bellyache a lack of water. Okay, they get water. What is their reaction? Of course, they complain.
At least it’s something they do well.
Put on your Theoretical Physics bonnets. We’re going into some heady stuff here. We will examine the relativity of time, time’s expansion and contraction with respect to the physical world we understand.
Still with me?
I thought maybe you could do this. Buckle-in.
A little backstory
Frolicking in the snow, I’ve justified procrastinating – delaying the final work on the final room in the upstairs rehab – two planned sessions of “touch-up.” Not work work, just tedious and unforgiving. Already I’d taken all the ladders out to the garage, quite happy to be done with them.
Imagine, then, my chagrin, after finally starting, in surveying the spots to be addressed in “ceiling touch-up” finding the step stool I’d figured adequate to the project to be a foot and a half short of several spots demanding attention.
Nertz! Out to the garage to drag in the ten-footer. Twisty-turny through the back entry, around several tight corners, finally breaching the stairway “up” to the waiting room. Not, you see, the “Waiting Room,” but the room upstairs waiting for final touch-up work.
The first spot tantalizingly out of normal reach – thus demanding the ladder be deployed – was a spot [in the ceiling, remember] squarely above the top landing. On the farthest left-hand reach, not directly over optimum [and safest] ladder placement. The left legs solidly one-inch away from the edge of the landing, beneath which waited a ten-foot fall should one miscue; that ten feet softened by fifteen or so stairsteps, such that one would not fall the full ten feet all at once, but in eight-inch, rug-padded increments.
Visualize that? Okay add another three feet elevation for being on the ladder. Now we’re talking serious altitude.
Up I went. I’m used to this. I have, in the last several months, successfully and safely completed eighteen and twenty-foot forays on ladders including the famous “Killer.” Killer, if you pay more attention to maintaining balance than to what Killer is doing, will bite you. I have scars documenting that.
I completed the “touch-up” which demanded a precarious bit of testing lean-to-center-of-gravity ratios. Ah! Done! Down the ladder.
Frenz, dismounts are the most dangerous part of ladder artistry.
We’re going to recognize time’s ability to warp.
I got down to [what I thought was] the last step of “Tenfoot.” Anyone who has worked any ladder or even gallomped atop a pogo stick knows how easy it is to miscount descending steps. Even sight-verification will every so often still lead to an error.
Yup. With one step to go, my altimeter told me I was zero feet over touchdown. Those of you with ladder experience will attest to this: when you reach that point [or believe you have reached that point] where your lead foot will next plant itself on terra firma, inertial wiring adjusts your body’s attitude – you more or less relax yourself and save energy by letting gravity take over the last step – and nothing can go wrong, can go wrong, can go wrong…
Here it comes, science buffs
As soon as you think you are done with the ladder, in a time-period covering all of zero seconds, you learn otherwise. Your body, in “all done” mode is unable to make any corrections. All gyros are dysfunctional.
Now. All this takes place in less than a second. But in your mind, while it is happening, you have time to complete the Times Sunday Crossword. That’s the relativity thing. It takes less than a heartbeat, but in the process, you flashback over your entire life, from when you first smelled something bad and realized it was your nappy, to the moment you questioned the amount of milk you sloshed into the last cup of coffee you had pre-ladder excursion.
This morning at zero point zero eight six times ten to the minus six seconds, I thought [and in fact discussed with myself] this is not what I need right here. I think I’ll do that again. You know, back it up, and give it another go.
[Entirely feasible. At that mark in the episode, or any like it, that has not yet become this. “That” is something in-progress and reversible. “This” is a manner of completion, whatever this is, is irreversible. However, humans, and especially older humans cannot react within the proper time frame to effect “slipsies.” This in spite of the fact that when this episode was in-progress, I could have easily written this blog without destroying a significant part of that total-elapsed-time-one-second as observed by an individual not part of the event – that is, an observer stationed somewhere in the distance. All humans (to this point in evolution) are incapable of the necessary reaction time. It is possible. Humans just can’t do it.]
Missing my chance to “do over,” I instead completed the fall. Ingloriously. In the balance of the elapsing single second’s unwinding, I reviewed all of my to-do lists, wondered where I’d left my spare glasses, considered what I would have for lunch, recited what I remember of “Gunga Din,” and kept promising myself I was not executing trajectory that would send me to test the damage to be done rolling arms-and-legs splayed and flailing down the full flight of stairs. In the end, I was no longer holding a trim bucket of paint and a trim brush. My glasses were still on my face. Noting immediately felt broken. All mobile body parts moved as well as they did before I mounted the ladder.
I did not, as you gather, test my theory on falling down the flight of stairs. Maybe next time.
There you have it
I know less than a second passed from when I missed the window of opportunity to effect a do-over to the time I could smell the carpet since my nose was buried deep into the pile. A casual observer would have experienced the same second.
Engaging in space flight in this way, I was able in the same single second to accomplish a great number of things. In effect, I experienced the expansion of time. Oddly, simultaneously with, or within, the normal dimension of time.
It was unfortunate that I could not execute the “go back” necessary to cancel the event. I might have had several shots at it, become a time-traveler as it were.
Tell neither my son nor the Boss of this
Triggers: Language. PC-unworthiness
It’s March. Time for some madness.
All the well-intentioned but screwball folks out there1 will, for the simple reason that screwballs breed uncontrollably, soon be a large enough majority they’ll manage to convert their weird bullshit2 ideas into law.
Like cows fart too much and they will, left unchecked, destroy planet earth.3 We needs must, screwballs posit, reduce the number of cows on earth, reverse the dangerous trend to increased cow populations to supply more and more people ready supplies of MacBurgers.
Are you out of your skull?
Yeah. But not as much as the screwball loonies who would have us stop aminal-husbanding cattle. They want both to save the planet and stop barbaric cow protein consumption. All at once. As I see it, as we reduce the number of cows, we’re going to increase the supply of MacBurgers.
Problems in implementation
Okay we must protect the ozone layer from being replaced by a bovine fartzone. Cattle also belch a lot because it’s the way they rechew their food. So there’s that flaw in looney-tunes posits, albeit in the end irrelevant. Another, but relevant fact is that it ain’t just cows that fart. Pigs do it. Dogs do it.4 Suspect walrii, elk, naugas, and kangaroons do too. And, Buffy and Jody, peoples do it too. There’s a hell of a lot of people out there. Peoples might be major contributors to the methane zone. Maybe the major contributor.
I’m not volunteering to research the matter
I’ll leave that at that.
Screwballs concerned with imbalances in atmospheric gases declare we must stop increasing cow populations, indeed reduce them. Okay. I get it. But that factually means we must reduce all aminal populations.
I reckon we’ll be obliged to let cows5 live to die natural deaths. Umm, okay.
These same screwballs simultaneously positing that aminal protein is immoral, it follows, to respect aminal rights after not raising more and more aminal protein to save the ozone layer, we must find a way to humanely dispose of existing aminal populations. Not after passing them through the abattoir but after they die of old age.
Here’s how it might go down
We effectively plug-up aminals’ reproductive business, so they like kind of die away. That leaves us with a lot of old cows (and pigs, and sheeps, and other edibles) that need be disposed of.
Sign me up. I’ll eat the blamed things. I won’t do it for free. I mean I’m as civic minded, as much a best-for-all-mankind kind of guy as anyone, but I will incur terrible expenses. I expect those to be ameliorated. I’ll need fuel for my grill. While at work in this public service I’ll need a place to stay. And other things.
It’s the least I can do to save the planet.
1 In places like californica, new yerk, washinton.
2 Not to toss out a pun as it follows in subsequent text.
3 Bastids. I knew cows was inherently evil.
4 Masters of the art, dogs. Rover passes the vilest aroma without cracking a smile and looks at you innocently as if to say, “What? Who? Not me. Musta been Grampa!”
5 Which includes near and far bovine relatives – musk ox, gnus, deer, and wapiti, to say nothing of hog relatives and sheep specie-cousins. Oh, the list goes on and on.
Two surprises Sunday morning
And who doesn’t like a surprise?
Surprises come in two shapes, you see
There are those that are pleasant. Like finishing-up your taxes and finding Uncle Chuck owes you money. Or hearing that your grandson was accepted to five major universities. Or learning your daughter was shortlisted for the DuVallier Outstanding Medical Procedural Innovation for this year.
Then there are those something very much other than pleasant. Like scouring the trades for a suspension part for the ’38 Ford you’re restoring to find no one on this planet has what you need. Or getting your property tax bill for the year and seeing the County Assessors are out of their skulls with increases. Or visiting your dentist for cleaning to have her conclude her post-cleaning oral canyon survey with the phrase, “Unh-oh.”
I rarely get the pleasant ones. It’s a celestial law that was passed the day I was born.
So which are you talking about?
You really don’t suspect? The “unpleasant” kind.
We got snow Friday. Not play-date snow. Real snow. Be careful with the snow shovel snow. Saturday wasn’t spring, but it smelled licentiously like spring. Mud. Rains. Prepping for lawn work. Late Saturday night, “Those clouds, Marv, they look to you like snow?”
Marv didn’t think so. But they were. Running around in skivvies Sunday morning, firing-off the coffee thing, fetching potatoes from the root cellar for breakfast, I glanced out the front door window. *(&^()*&^ snow! Not puny snow. The yard, almost free of snow Saturday afternoon was generously layered.
Which meant another session of scraping concrete with a shovel. I got right on it, even before I started prepping breakfast. Figured if I was at it as long as Friday, I could make breakfast “brunch” and cut total daily caloric intake.
Owing to the Saturday melt, it didn’t take long. And it kept sneezing snow all day long but never accumulating enough to warrant a second trip out to play with the shovel. Temps were lower than Saturday so Monday morning, still dandruffing snow, there was no need to play outside.
Sunday’s second surprise came when I returned inside to start making breakfast. My nightstand clock radio, refrigerator, stove, and coffee pot were in unison at odds with my cell phone. My cell phone, a confirmed Democrat, suggested an election. When votes were tallied, it was apparent my cell phone was correct. I spent not a few minutes resetting and trying to synch my appliances to the [real] “woke” time of day.
I chuckle thinking of a blurb I read once. I cannot recall where. It went something like this: A Native American was heard to say, “Only a white man would believe he could cut one foot off the bottom of his blanket, sew it to the top of his blanket and have a longer blanket.”
Is there a Native American we can run for president in 2024? I am most curious to hear how Wise Buffalo would handle the immigration issue. Suspect, if Mr. Buffalo were ever elected, I’d be well-advised to pack my suitcase and be ready to be deported.
Any takers out there? A Cherokee? Osage? Apache? Inuit?
Finally, a minor surprise of the pleasant variety. Washing-up after breakfast, looking out the window watching the snow continue to scrizzle, I spied a rabbit cavorting through the field across from the subD. Apparently, while I consider this to have been a mild winter, rabbits somekindaway didn’t fare too well. This specimen appeared somewhat stunted, only a little larger than a standard poodle.
Guess that means I had three surprises Sunday. Still tilted in favor of the unpleasant sort.
I’ll take it.