More Shower Thoughts
“Anthony, it’s late. These aren’t even funny.”
I finished re-charging my phone, so here are a few more glimpses into the backrooms of my brain:
I discovered my name, to stamp with ink onto windows: “Anthority.”
Most Offensive Cocktail Idea: Rum, Butterscotch, Orange Zest, and a small Candied Ginger that is shaped like an ear, placed on the edge of the glass. Called “Trump Shot.” Oof!
I worry that some child will spend their entire youth in a VR environment, for school and games and socialization, all while using a ‘Minecraft Skin’ atop those environments… such that they developed ‘Pixel-Vision’ and had difficulty recognizing faces. I will wear a paper bag over my head, to simulate a Minecraft face, so that the next generation of iPad babies don’t scream in terror and run into traffic when they see me.
‘Schawke’ would be a good graff alias.
A series from texts with a Russian Orthodox!…
Gary Larson style God, beard and white robes, sandals, standing on a cloud, leaning in through a door to his Son, Jesus, sitting at the computer, the screen saying ‘SimEarth’: 2024AD. Political polls and news articles pop-up as game reminders. God is politely asking Jesus: “Are ya winning, Son?”
As written in Proverbs 3:04: “She belongeth to the streets.”
Kierkegaard arrives at the Gates to Heaven, and St. Pete welcomes him:
Pete: “You have lived honorably and your work reflects the choices you made in life. Enter Heaven, and be joyous!”
Kierk: “Thank you. And, I am overwhelmed with gladness to be able to enter Heaven. I just have one question first.”
Pete: “All will be answered within! Go forth, no need to fear!”
Kierk: “I have the courage, and this question *cannot* be answered by entering those Gates. I wish to know: MUST I?”
Pete: “You lost me.”
Kierk: “I *do* wish to enter Heaven, AND I ask — *must* I enter Heaven, or do I still have a Choice, now?”
Pete: “Wha — ? Uh, well, see there’s no technical specifications for this sort of scenario because… uh, gosh. We never planned for someone like you. I suppose that, because you have Free Will, still, and you are deserving of the right to choose, then yes. Is Heaven still your choice, now? You are always welcome!”
Kierk: “Good! First, for a while, I would like to go to Hell, and listen to Satan.”
Pete: “Ghu — ! Er, well… you do you, buddy.” Pete pushes the button, shunting Kierkegaard to 2021 L.A. for a philosophy dialogue with an Influencer.
Heard in San Francisco: “Siri, isn’t this Spring? This is Spring, now, right?”
Imagine the fancy restaurant…
Guy to his date: “Okay, so would you date BOTH George Clooney AND Leonardo DiCaprio?”
Girl: “Of course!”
Guy, leaning into the dinner table: “IF their bodies were MERGED in a horrific amalgam of arms and legs, each head crammed onto its own shoulder?”
Girl: “Well, that depends if…”
Guy, nodding: “Oh, yeah, they’re both down there, and the uh…orientation of the two is helpful for you.”
Girl: “Fine. But I was wondering if they would still have all the Hollywood money?”
Guy: “Both piles!”
Girl: “Done.”
Guy: “How many women would you be willing to share DiCaprooney with?”
Girl: “All of them. We need more men of that caliber.”
I would be glad to make myself a wompus-cabinet with the scraps! “If a furniture designer from 1983 was sent in a Time Machine to 1398, and had only carpentry scraps with which to forge a Revolution in elite fashion and sensibilities…” “…The Designer was only able to return to their own time by making a Cabinet-Dresser-Stool-LoveSeat Combo which was SO UTTERLY nonsense that Dieter Rams himself arrived in his Time Castle to scold the Designer and shunt him back to the 1980s, which is the allotted Time-Prison for ALL Atrocious Designers in the Universe.”
Les Miserables “Do You Hear the People Sing?” is just “Do Your Ears Hang Low” in a minor key. Prove me wrong.
Would it be appropriate to call the Dino-destroying meteor from 66M years ago a ‘Veloci-Rapture’?
What would be an example of ‘based basic’? or ‘try-hard goblin-mode’? “I don’t give a darn, I’m going full BLURST-mode.”
I wonder if it would be possible to invite Plone and Skrillex to make an album together, creating the genre of “BounceHouse”?
Most Badass Name-of-the-Week: “MetaComet” He organize Native Americans in the FIRST war against English colonists, destroyed numerous towns, had united all the warring tribes…
My old 17-count rhythm sounds like reality pulled my shirt over my face.
Among the series of ‘Most Offensive Haiku’, a competition among housemates:
“Apocalipstick
Eat face with girl on T.V.
Stacked Corpses Picnic”
My only wisdom: “What is it called when you get dressed-up in a fancy tuxedo to be a spy? …Formaldehyde.”
hehehe — I’ve been playing with dirt again.
I am a space cadet. I need oversight to handle my space cases.
“They say silence is golden, but my waiter insisted on cash…”
“…I was politely walking out of the restaurant, silently… apparently, that’s not enough.”
I barfed-up a tiny essay on the topic: <three hour essay>
My AGI Metric: chart by month, the average percentage of time that people spend listening to talking robots talk about robots.
Tech Bros: “We need to make Ai and robotics more empathic and relatable, so that it can be integrated into society without a Luddite revulsion-response…”
Also Tech Bros: “So, we decided to graft living human flesh onto the face of a creepy robot!”
The Revolution is JUST Television.
Hunter: <convicted on gun charges>
Trump: Admits to his Probation Officer that he still has a gun.
I think Earth is an Alien Sitcom.
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The Spring 2024 Election Campaigns: “Do you want to elect a turd-on-fire, or a glass of warm milk? He’ll be in charge of the Robotic War with Russia and China!”
Wait, EA stands for ‘Elites Anonymous’, right? You go on paid retreats every two months…
By 2034, there will be at least five young men named GPT.
Best Halloween Costume: Whiskey Santa!
A better version of Batman: Bruce bites the Joker. Joker: “Ouch — the fnck?” Batman: “Rabies is 100% lethal, turd.” <flies away>
If you have more than one, aren’t they SOME-larms?
“He has a backpack pumping him with 500W in THz spectrum, to turn the CO2 and lactic acid in his skin’s capillaries back into sugars, so he hardly needs to breathe oxygen, and the lack of CO2 build-up means that he won’t feel and *urge* to breathe, either… he can swim like this for hours.”
“Whosoever shall Shawshank the open sewer-system of San Francisco’s Downtown, from the Embarcadero to City Hall, with greatest haste, shall henceforth be Mayor.”
I hypothesize that mice would be MORE enthusiastic for cheese… when that cheese is made from mouse lactations? I will need $4.3M in funding and a team of twelve grad-students to explore this topic further!
Platform tech is my favorite, because folks can’t STOP themselves from unleashing it! We can already scan for psychopathy, so it’s just price-point → availability → innovation → fulfill latent demand → scale. Technology is an Alien Pet, covered in soft Platinum and sherbet hues, fur shivering in excitment to see us… When we hold it close and it coos to us, it sinks metal hooks swabbed in anesthesia and anti-depressants, hallucinogens and stimulants, until we love it MORE than our own children. :3
I put baking soda in every mug of coffee, no kidney stones or sour stomach! Baking soda is my toothpaste, my foot-odor powder, deoderant, floor and faucet cleaner, glass cleaner, bug repellant for the floors… It also makes cheap liquor taste incredibly smooth, for a top-shelf Old Fashioned.
I show you YouTube now… one sec… brain-shrinkage go!
I’ve never had the luxury of Group-Think; nobody agrees with me!
Forget the Turing Test. I want the Tate Test: “What are the FEWEST number of artificial Neural Net neurons that you would need in an Ai Chatbot, for it to be indistinguishable from a conversation with Andrew Tate? If we only need 10M parameters to emulate a Tate, then THAT is the Upper-Bound for the intelligence of his followers.
Calling someone a ‘Capitalist Consumer’ is a misnomer: they are the FOOD.
“Youth is wasted on the Poor!”
Romeo: “The REAL Tragedy was that my new girlfriend decided to spring her Fake-Death on me as a *surprise* and she thinks I don’t ‘love her enough’ just because I didn’t read her corpse-mind and KNOW that she was Fake-Dead, NOT Actual-Dead. How am I supposed to succeed in this kind of demanding environment?”
I can see where you are coming from… and I refuse to go there with you.
Don’t turn my workshop into a rave! We still need to build caves for that…
Scale Zircon Kilns! We need massive mechanical devices, gundam-style!
If I die, please have all of that written on my tombstone in Spanish, English, and Chinese, as a Rosetta Stone for future civilizations to learn how we managed to douche ourselves to death. :3
<them> “Beijing is more expensive than DC.”
<me> “Hopefully that means their government will soon be as inept as ours?
“Who among you is Spartacus, for we Romans shall kill him.”
“I am Spartacus.”
“No, I am Spartacus.”
“Uh, hold on guys — I’m also named Spartacus…”
“Well, actually, I’m the oldest, so MOM says I’m the REAL Spartacus.”
“Yeah, he’s Spartacus.”
“I am struck by how, when I try to be bizarre and grotesque in my humor, imagining us replaced by Goblin-shaped Beetles in a giant Hive, hoping to hit that sweet-spot of ick when I draw upon Cosmic Horror… you still NAILED the ick with some homespun hillbilly terror-romance vision, seven words long! Your brevity and verve for spine-chilling fiction amazes me!” (In response to the text “I think I’ll just have multiple wives.”)
Train the Tesla on GTA-5 Speedruns.
Apple bought Siri 13 years ago, and Apple has published fewer Ai Research-Papers than *Disney*. Which means that Apple is currently doing the *most* to keep humans safe from AGI x-risks! EA should fund Apple, under the condition that the company refuses to improve their products.
A human brain in a vat, at the operating costs of GPT4, would be the size of a cow. Why did the robot overlords ever give Neo-Keanu a *body*? That was their ONLY mistake! We could charge Texans $20 a pop to see the enormous brain — it’d pay for itself. Though, it would likely face Pentacostals who claim it is a sign of Armaggedon… We would need to give the giant brain a way to defend itself from them. I recommend tentacles and a gaping orifice.
He is an incompetent ogre. He thinks he should *feel* ‘confident’ even though his Fractional Bayesian Updates cannot construct a Confidence Interval.
Sam BF: Nov. 2022… Sam Alt: Nov. 2023. Something horrible is going to happen to Samuel Jackson next November! Protect SamJack!
Waaait. If Trump goes to prison for X years, doesn’t that demand a few Secret Sercive folks are effectively jailed for those X years? “I spent a decade sitting in a cell next to a meth pumpkin.”
A restaurant which only serves Religiously Offensive meals. “Beef Curry,” “Sea Salt and Crab Cake Latke,” “Sauteed humus and rum-battered pork fritters,” “Wine + Tapas platter of cheese, crackers, herb sauce, to fit BOTH Communion and Seder.”
Taoists don’t get tricked into Buddhism, sorry. ‘Nirvana’ sounds like a ten-year-old saying ‘murder times infinity.’ “You wouldn’t have problems if you were dead” is what a serial killer would tell me. They would snap the Thanos glove TWICE.
I drink green juice, which has as much fructose as two coca-colas. I am a hummingbird.
True, Monsanto is the strongest argument for the existence of a shapeshifting reptilian illuminati.
<him, explaining ‘pufa depletion’> “Polyunsaturated fatty acids”
<me> “I knew there would be a way for me to get Kirby powers! Thank you!”
There is an infinite supply of opinions. And no one is buying them. Hence, their market-value is Zero.
Who *wouldn’t* want to be handcuffed and gagged as a dissident BY GOOFY?!? Get a picture of me before my brain gets scrubbed, so I can remember this moment!
My brain at the doctors: “Doc, I need your help! Am I really this *blurry* on the inside?”
Doc: “The what? No…”
Me: “But the photos you took of me! They’re all *blurry* and my bones are glowing. I tried to see if I really am blurry on the inside, with this incision, but blood kept getting in the way. And I knew that I would only see the glowing bones in the dark, but that made everything else difficult…”
Doc: …
I’ve almost got my Trump Bingo Card! Either he has a heart attack eating fried chicken and the Proud Boys claim it was the Deep State… OR he flees to Russia to marry Putin’s daughter… OR Eric takes the blame for all his crimes and goes to jail in sympathy. Those are the only ways I can get five-in-a-row.
You could probably tell Dubai that you’re a consultant from Tata, and then live there free for years before they notice anything!
“Those few early years of the Internet, back when content was still made by Humans” will be its own brief, archaic era in culture akin to “when we had movies in theaters, but no audio for dialogue.”
“Covid pushed me to work remotely from my apartment. That gutted office rentals, so the offices were converted into apartments. Now, I sleep at the office.”
Random horror vision, two tech yuppies talking about their coffee hacks: “I put the whole carafe in a beer helmet and I feed the straw into my left nostril, so that I can still talk and eat.” “Nah, bro — do this: get Peet’s used grounds to make a rectal suppository; you absorb more caffeine that way, because stomach acids destroy most of it. Afterwards, you just add it to the garden!”
“So I gave GPT $80 and told it to make money while I was on vacation. It pretended to kidnap this celebrity’s kid…” Just run it locally, and you can trick Liam Neeson into killing all of your enemies!
I don’t want to be your guru. :/
“News Flash! Brad and Angelina are back together, and she just gave birth to their new child, Branginaline Pitt, who was forcibly adopted by a family from a developing country who promised to re-name her and let her live a normal life. Good luck, darling Branginaline!”
