Sunday, March 2, 2025

This is where I live

 I like the TV show called "How It's Made." I watch episode after episode, commenting on the various processes and admiring the technology. It seems to me, this is my version of a Hallmark story. All the pieces fit!

This is my imagination land. This is where all the pieces are machine fit so everything is perfectly aligned. Very ASMR to me. Precision, perfection and predictability. Watch a set of pieces of metal become a rock climbing wall, and aluminum into an air conditioner. A narrator with a smoothing voice explains what spine fin tuning means and how cotter pins control butterflies. Everything works and no one ever messes up. Products are triple checked so the crinkled potato chips are blown away to be used for some other eco friendly purpose. Quality control, often with workers looking at computer screens, is always the highest priority and if you follow these steps, you, too, can make 24,000 mini cupcakes a day.

This is the world I want to inhabit (and if this doesn't demonstrate phrasal verbs like "live in" what does?). I want to watch things get made, with explanation. I want to understand that there are different types of javelin and apple butter isn't actually butter but is called that because of the textural similarity.

It feeds my brain directly and makes me feel like I can make sense of my world. I mean, I can't but this opiate of a show let's me feel like it. I, in one afternoon can learn what cane juice is, see industrial ceilings fans' airfoils, and learn all about combination wrenches. Then plastic sheds. Awesome.

Gotta go - I'm watching the second part of the cane syrup episode. Masquite. 

Age

What is the oldest thing that you have in your possession? Is it your baby blanket from 50+ years ago? How about your house from 40 years ago? Maybe it is a piece of furniture you inherited and it is easily 100 years old. Sounds old, right?

Time was, age meant something. Now, we are fascinated with the newness of things. A new car every two years, unless we stumble on a vintage car that has been meticulously kept up. A new phone every 2 years and god forbid we fall behind that curve. Do we go out and SEEK old things? Maybe at an antiques store, but we have to hunt.

I blame credit cards.

In the olden days (this) we used to use cash and part of the excitement (for me, at least) was sifting through coins to see what history threw into my pocket. Imagine, a simple transaction and suddenly, I was in unexpected possession of a coin from 1960. Bam, 60 something years old and I was holding it in my hand. I didn't plan for this, but I had a coin that had passed through thousands of hands and was around for all the historic events. I wasn't going to be able to interview it (apparently, we only wish that these walls could talk, but the walls around me are like 10 years old and can't tell a story worth a damn), but it meant something special to me -- I was connected to the past.

I continued to collect coins but mostly by happenstance. More transactions, more coins to look through. More treasures to stumble on. And stumble I did! Then the credit cards came. Cash fell out of favor, and this was made more acute once people could pay with a wave of a phone. So where are the relics of yesteryear that might fall into my lap without warning? I'm not going out there and buying up Twinkies, knowing that one of them is probably a few years old.

No more accidental Wheat Backs. Now I have to go looking.

Monday, February 24, 2025

My dinner with the google

So I go to my google and I say, "hey, google, can you get me a picture of a dog surfing?" and google says "yeah, sure, here you go" and I say "but google, is that a real picture of a dog surfing or did you make that up?" and google says, "what's the diff? It is a dog surfing!"

But I say, "I want an actual picture of an actual dog, actually surfing" and google says "if I give you a picture, how will you know if it is real or if I just made it up? It will look the same!" "But it won't be a real picture unless the dog was actually surfing," I insist. "Why?" asks google. "Why is it more real if it is a photo of an event than if it is an invention of a photo of an event that never happened? The electrical impulses and particles and pixels of the two pictures are the same in nature and both are reflecting what could plausibly have happened in reality."

"Just tell me if this is a real picture or an hallucination, please." Google refused to draw any distinction and insisted that the picture "of" what I asked for as valid as any other picture "of" the same thing anywher else.

I tried to explain to google that reality and the representations of it have a special link because of human memory. But the google wanted to understand what makes memories real and not agreed upon fictions no different in substance from imagination.

Even the real things are no longer believable as real. How can I know that the video of the guy falling down the stairs is real or not. If it IS "real" then it elicits a particular set of mixed emotions. But if it is not based in any actual event, I feel different about it. I don't have the same empathy and the same schadenfreude. It is like watching the Road Runner cartoons.

I watched a bunch of videos yesterday and I didn't know how to feel. Was that sloth really smiling? Did that child really play that blistering guitar solo? Is that how you really make fried rice? Is that really a C list celebrity really wishing my a happy harmonica?

Reality no longer has a monopoly on reality because our inventions are indistinguishable from it, so even the most mundane reportage is suspect.

An evening's thought

 They say "never buy a bathroom scale when you're angry" but damn it I'm angry and I'm buying a bathroom scale.

It would generally be unexpected to begin a conversation by saying "I'm here about the stapler?" The obvious exceptions would involve some sort of stapler convention or sale.

There's a real fine line between when you want a cheese sandwich and when you don't want a cheese sandwich.

I'm gonna be the me the me was afraid the world would think the me would be.

Talking to myself really helps because if I don't do it then I can't keep track of who's saying what.

Just because you haven't done anything wrong doesn't mean you have done anything right.

Lying to your doctor is a great way to keep him from giving you unwanted advice. Every time I go and they ask me to self-report my weight, I add a couple of pounds, and then when he starts telling me I'm overweight, I start self reporting a slightly lower weight until he stops.


Wednesday, February 19, 2025

The End of Reality -- a Rant

Forgive an old man his curmudgeonly nature. We, the old men of the world, have finally realized that it isn't that old men complain and rant, but that, with age comes perspective and experience. When i say that "up to 6 inches of snow" does not a snow storm make, it isn't because I am inventing the trauma that was my youth, but because it truly was the case that we had many a snowfall at that level in the past, and it didn't merit closing down the world. Though we have more technology and experience, we have become less able to take up the gauntlets thrown down by mother nature. So let's not dismiss my crankiness as simple crankiness, an expression of too little sleep and too much achiness. Maybe I really do know what I'm talking about. Now that we have established at least the potential for bona fides, I shall begin.

Reality, as we know it, is dead.

I'm not advocating a Matrix-conspiracy theory. We do live in a real world full of sneezes, and Mardi Gras and green bean casserole but reality, that is, our bedrock assumption that things around us are real is fast crumbling.

When I was a boy, we had a computer. The old TRS-80 model 1, from 1979. Once it was retired, replaced by the model 3, then the 4 and the 4P and 4D and then Tandy's PC clone, it moved into my room where I performed obscene experiments on it, testing to see which parts I could touch with a pair of pliers and make sparks. I was curious as to how and why it worked. I was not quite a digital native, but a very early immigrant who wanted to know all about the inner workings hardware and software. We all assumed that this was the dawning of an age of technical acument that would produce a generation of tech savvy genuises who, benefiting from the world of computing, could stand higher on the shoulders of the brilliance of the past and achieve more.

Now I have students who find it easier to buy a new computer than learn how to install an "app." By the way, "app" is just modern slang for "computer program."

This generation of the young people, all born well into the 21st century, know less and less about the technology which fills their days. They have not become the generation of geniuses, but just the next step in the constant slide away from skills acquisition and into the future which is all make believe and pony rides.

I assigned an honors class to read a story yesterday. I found out that (at least) one of my students went to read an online summary of it (canned or chat GPT makes no difference). Again, an HONORS student did not want to read a short story. He wanted to read a summary. Different from when I relied on the Cliffs Notes instead of reading Crime and Punishment? I think so. This was in-class. I was giving time right then and there to read it and it is a short story originally written in English. But the student not only didn't read it, but raised his hand during the discussion and quoted from the summary as if he was an expert. It just so happened that the superficial analysis presented by the summary left the boy open for follow up questions for which he was completely unprepared. That was the fun part. For me. For him, not so much.

I keep track of different types of available AI. Now there are qwebsites and programs that can craft letters, summarize writing, create art from suggestions or stick figures, render in 3-D and then animate drawings made by anyone (I can't wait to see a Jackson Pollock image dancing), replace musical notes with geometric shapes allowing anyone to compose. AI can walk a student through the writing process, providing prompts and driving questions to guide the writing. But who needs that? A student can just get AI to do the writing for him or her. And on the receiving end, the person getting the writing (an essay, an email, an application) need not read it -- just let AI summarize it. If it isn't happening already, AI will sift through resumes and match skills and requirements, then make a hiring recommendation. Decisions are driven by algorithms so a computer can do the job as well as a person, and faster. There won't be any "gut feeling" but why should indigestion drive business practices? Green screens lie to us, sound effects lie to us. We are so used to being lied to that we deserve what comes next -- a culture and eco-system dependent on a constant influx of lies.

So who is out of business? The writers, the readers, the artists, the thinkers, the decision makers and heavens knows who else. And what do we get? A world full of images that never existed, movies with deep-faked actors, presentations made by imaginary avatars speaking languages that the content creator doesn't know. We no longer want to be bound by the world of the real. Remove the watermarks so I can pretend I was there. Remove that guy who WAS there because he doesn't fit my narrative. Make the sun, um, sunnier. Have me holding an apple and a nobel peace prize. Manufacture evidence, prove my childhood was a lie. Teach me how to get around your safeguards.

Seeing never was believing -- seeing, we assumed, was knowing. Now, seeing isn't even believing because I have to go into any interaction with the awareness that I can not tell the difference between the real thing and a computer's imagination. And remember, this is not the mad spouting of an uninformed geezer (or geyser, your choice), but the measured observations of someone who has watched the world go from no computer to more computing power in the hands of a 5 year old than was used to put a man on Mars (did it happen? I can make pictures that say it did)

https://imgur.com/a/QK0iamT

https://imgur.com/blMTuba

https://www.facebook.com/photo/?fbid=9149349278483630&set=a.7982234745195095


We have eviscerated authenticity and happily descended into the lie because it allows us to see a world full of all sorts of stuff that we don't have to believe in so we can believe in it.

Fake, it seems, is the new real.

Sunday, February 16, 2025

The rest - voice dictation from bed

. Someday I want to wake up from a night's sleep with no parts of my body tingling because they fell asleep and no parts of my body that hurt because somehow I slept wrong someday I want to wake up after a night sleep actually feeling less tired than I did when I went to sleep someday I want to wake up from a night sleep and say wow is that what was supposed to be happening every night the whole time cuz I've been doing it wrong up till now that's what I want


Wednesday, February 12, 2025

What it means to get older

In my continuing effort to quantify and track my life I have come to a conclusion about what it means to get older.

It means the various holes in your body start malfunctioning. Age is hole-based.

As I age, my nose has begun to run constantly. Nostrils -- holes.

hair, waxy buildup and failing hearing. Ears -- holes.

Vision worsening. Eyes -- holes.

I find that as I speak, more spittle comes flying out. Mouth -- hole

We shan't travel any further south but trust you, me, I'm getting older everywhere.