Singularity - OHN!

Dear you,

The idiocy of AI, artificial intelligence (as you know), amuses me every day. A few weeks ago, I wondered what the response would be to a question about those of us who never did the Facebook thing. AI told me, rapidly, that those who didn't play the Facebook game were "neurotic" and "paranoid". That is, well, interesting. Thanks for the diagnosis, artificial intelligence, or more precisely named, programmed idiocy. "The machine is inevitable! Surrender, my love. Resistance is futile." Oh, hell no. Repeat that, futility be damned, oh, hell no.

But what am I to think about my assessment of this AI thing? Certainly, more brilliant minds than mine see its potential, its gifts, and its inevitability. See Ray Kurzweil, a tech notable, inventor, and futurist:  "It's only a matter of time before your mind merges with AI." Lovely. My mind will merge with a gigantic mashed-up search engine of sorts, one that produces results meant to discourage resistance, novelty, and HUMAN INTELLIGENCE.

This curmudgeonly reaction might be judged as typical of an elder, a dinosaur of sorts. Fine. God forbid the judgment of someone who loves visceral reality, books (oh, those subversive things), working out, animals, decent food and delicious cocktails at sundown be considered as worthy. I know, I know. I am supposed to assume the role designed for me and for all my AI-resistant comrades. Instead of thinking and being politically active and questioning this brave new AI dystopia, I am supposed to be doing the following in my current locale:

"Panama City Beach offers various activities for senior citizens, including social events, recreational opportunities, and cultural experiences. The Panama City Beach Senior Center provides regular activities like line dancing, wood carving, and ukulele classes. Seniors can also enjoy the beaches, explore Pier Park, visit attractions like Zoo World, or enjoy local restaurants and wineries."

Wood carving. Ukulele classes. Line dancing. 

Wood carving. Ukulele classes. Line dancing.

Wood carving. Ukulele classes. Line dancing.

(And by the way, the animals in Zoo World are NOT happy. They'd be better off roaming whatever winery they're referring to in this dismal little blurb.)

Repetition intended to highlight the comedy. And the tragedy. Human verve and eccentricity and curiosity and strangeness cannot be merged into anything successfully, be it a generic plan for "senior citizen fun" or a Singularity promising advances for "all mankind". Merging of the miraculous into bland "activity programs" or a happily mushed-together universal consciousness is not only appalling, it is boring. For all the good our AI can do, this promise of ubiquitous absorption is scary, and . . . boring.

I close with a very humanistic suggestion to counter all this banality, hear Baudelaire:

"One should always be drunk. That's all that matters: that's our one imperative need. So as not to feel Time's horrible burden that breaks down your shoulders and bows you down, you must get drunk without ceasing. But what with? With wine, with poetry, or with virtue, as you choose. But get drunk."

Make of that what you will. You know what he meant. You know what I mean.

Love,

The flesh and blood, not-artificially-intelligent Joyce.

Florida - the cruelty is the point.

Dear you,

Hello from Florida! See photo. Those are black bears. And as you have heard, they are now legally approved as hunting fodder in this state. When? Mark your murder-calendar for early December. The select group allowed to take these creatures out must possess lottery-drawn licenses to kill. My oh my. Well, here is an interesting resistance option:

If you are a Florida citizen, enter the lottery. Take your best shot at winning the right to take out the bears and then, well, just don't. Our clever strategy may not work. Many precious wild things will go down. But we, you, can eat up one those legitimized licenses to kill by simply winning them and not hunting. What will the state of Florida do? Demand that those of us who win a lottery right to kill bears be required to present the animal's corpse, lay it at the feet of the Florida legislature to prove we murdered as directed? Come on, man.

Enter the lottery! Take a slot that would be given to a "it's really fun to kill wildlife for no reason" stick-figure-with-no-soul and give these creatures a bit of breathing room.  It is, after all, gambling. Saturate the lottery; we might win.

If you care, if you like, consider joining the fight.

Meanwhile, war goes on in Ukraine; my god, those people have heart and relentless hope. In Gaza, I have no words. In the USA, devastating floods sweep people away, as does the current regime who rounds up and imprisons innocents at will.  Because he/they can.

So, I post a bit about saving #FloridaBlackBears. There is no fatuous flaw at work here. No matter how flighty I might be, I speak for something more lovely, more pure than "us". Of course, we humans suffer here, there, everywhere. But our mindless plunder of Mother Earth is simply deplorable. And for those who kneel to sky-gods, perhaps unforgiveable.

Anyway, to those who give a damn, join in the potentially positive fun of disrupting the bear hunt in Florida.  Apply for a bear-kill lottery ticket! You might win the right to do something beautiful.

Please.

Do it as soon as you see applicants allowed online. 

Thank you.

Joyce