A help-wanted ad for the Department of Homeland Security, fascist much? And my apologies, I, who underestimate Dump's survival instincts less than most, underestimated him this time, shitlords told him to focus on their shitlord business first, his gauche business second, threatened him (and will continue to threaten him, as will ossadmay) with Epstein (remember that? it was big news a week ago, hot and heavy), and Dump complied, skated, his usefulness to shitlords understandably keeping Dumpty on the wall (rimshot). As I type this sentence Sunday evening August 10th rumor is rampant he will militarize DC tomorrow. As I type this sentence Monday evening August 11th, yup. The shitlord business linked above requires, for now, a broken populace, starting the breakdown in the bluest (and black) city and capital of Magamerica is the sound business decision to start. Chicago's next. Let me say this about that:
This does not and never did exist in real life. The second after I photographed it it died a second ahead of second after second dying to dull muted flat half-colors by Monday late afternoon. I work water on paper, color dying the millisecond applied. This is natural. The bricks have been moved to another project
Besides, I cheat. The photo I took rotated 180 degrees from how I made it (like always, laugh, all these I make, my favorite uncanny me) and cropped to a rough square, and I juggled and enhanced exposure, contrast, and saturation with my chromebook's photothingee so what you are looking at is not what I made except it is
This is true of everything I post at the blog with the title that this blog just had for the last five days in its latest stupidass gag. This the periodical full disclosure, I think it must have been a year at least since the last, probably yesterday. The whatever they are called displayed here exist but not as they appear here. I have not been reading Murnane though I still write like him (I hear it, at least) at times from when I was devout. A few have even dried better than the altered ones displayed here. I give them to my wife and daughter who both, professionals, make art teacher noises of praise. In one of the oldest stupidass gags, almost as old as the stupidass gag where I proudly honor stupidass gags by relentless repeating, fine metaphors abound. Vital reminder:
The lead story as I type this this morning at 830am EDT in the New York Times is headlined FOR TRUMP, CITIES LIKE WASHINGTON ARE REAL ESTATE IN NEED OF FIXING UP because, sure, that's Trump's primary motive for militarizing DC, when my house needed a new roof five years ago I called in the Marines. Not that any major Democrat will bark at the clusterfuck but if one did we'd never know it. There's a link in the grid to an article that applies Kübler-Ross' Five Stages of Grief to you and me and the clusterfuck, that's how irreversible, just like death, your inevitable clusterfuckization and enshittification and immiseration are, don't take it personally, it's just a real estate transaction. One of my oldest gags here: shitlords' actuaries and accountants have run the numbers, shitlords are on the clock in the fucking of you up and they know it and billeting soldiers in your head a key early component. No one is going to fight for us, we need to fight like Bobby. E-A-B, E-A-B-A. We don't have a wah-wah pedal
[I do not always understand what you say]
James Schuyler
I do not always understand what you say.
Once, when you said, across, you meant along.
What is, is by its nature, on display.
Words' meanings count, aside from what they weigh:
poetry, like music, is not just song.
I do not always understand what you say.
You would hate, when with me, to meet by day
What at night you met and did not think wrong.
What is, is by its nature, on display.
I sense a heaviness in your light play,
a wish to stand out, admired, from the throng.
I do not always understand what you say.
I am as shy as you. Try as we may,
only by practice will our talks prolong.
What is, is by its nature, on display.
We talk together in a common way.
Art, like death, is brief: life and friendship long.
I do not always understand what you say.
What is, is by its nature, on display.
1/speaking as someone whose has resided - since 1999 - in a home which is part of the second-largest home owners association in the state sometimes called "america in miniature", I am glad NOT to live in gaithersburg, but rather - for the state income tax - in "montgomery county not otherwise specified" - but for the activities of daily life in an organized entity superbly designed to fulfill its purposes
ReplyDelete2/here's something that happened recently - satirically, it has been said when my house needed a new roof five years ago I called in the Marines - but in actual practice, last year one of the numbers on the sign giving the street address at our house fell off and was lost - the home owners association sent us a letter about it - and in the fullness of time we fixed it [so small a do it yourself task that we actually did it ourselves]
3/our friends at wikipedia say "The Community Associations Institute trade association estimated that in 2010, HOAs governed 24.8 million American homes and 62 million residents."
4/with a bit of nudging, a plagiarism machine came up with this:
I do not always grasp the words you say,
Like when you meant "along" and not "across."
Our meanings count, a delicate array
That poetry, not just a song, can gloss.
What is, is always on its own display,
A truth that bears the weight of every loss.
We talk and shyly walk the common way,
A friendship that will surely stand the test.
Though art and death are brief and pass away,
Our trust in friendship puts our minds at rest.
Life is not short, though we may wish it so,
But long enough to make our spirits mend.
And in this long and winding path we go,
Our conversation finds a common end.
4.5/while i recognize that some might condemn my interaction with such entities as perverse or worse, to me they seem to wondrously instantiatate the scotman's phrase 'the world is so full of a number of things'
1/...scotsman's...instantiate...
Delete2
2/speaking of writers with scottish ancestry, a book encountered this week - titled "Empire’s Son, Empire’s Orphan: The Fantastical Lives of Ikbal and Idries Shah" written by the colourfully named english historian nile green, was not so much eye-opening as confirmatory about my latterday disillusionment with the half-scottish storyteller who seems to have successfully pulled the wool over the eyes of nobel-prize-winning novelist doris lessing - she was disappointed with marxism, I with academic psychology, at the time in our life that we fell under the spell of this plausible fellow
Deletea chatbot with a name beginning with 'k' writes:
ReplyDeleteA VISION IN THE MANNER OF WILLIAM BLAKE
Concerning the Three Propositions of Purpose
I. *The Universe is here on Purpose*
> “The stars are thrones of living fire,
> And every grain of dust is fill’d with eyes;
> The Purpose walks in every nerve,
> And in the iron mills of Satan sings.”
From *Jerusalem*, Plate 77:
> “God is within the Furnaces; the Furnaces are his Foot-stool:
> He walks among the wheels, breathing His purpose.”
II. *Humankind hath, or may have, some Connection with that Purpose*
> “Man is all Imagination. God is Man, and exists in us, and we in Him.
> The Eternal Body of Man is the Imagination, that is, God Himself, the Divine Body.”
> — *Laocoön*
> “I am in you and you in me, mutual in love divine…
> Lo! we are One.”
> — *Jerusalem*, Plate 4
III. *A Person may improve his Power to perceive and to cooperate with that Purpose, in the Time and Place he inhabits*
> “If the doors of perception were cleansed, every thing would appear to man as it is, Infinite.”
> — *The Marriage of Heaven and Hell*, Plate 14
> “I give you the end of a golden string;
> Only wind it into a ball,
> It will lead you in at Heaven’s gate,
> Built in Jerusalem’s wall.”
> — *Jerusalem*, Plate 77
> “He who sees the Infinite in all things sees God.
> He who sees the Ratio only, sees himself only.”
> — *There is No Natural Religion*
––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––
A New Augury, spoken by Los the Prophet
Awake, sleeper!
The Purpose is not afar off; it is woven in thy sinews.
The loom of Eternity beats in thy heart; every pulse is a shuttle.
Cast away the spectre of doubt—he is but frost upon the window.
With fiery hand write the new Vision upon thy day:
> “Today I will see the Infinite purpose in this street,
> In the cry of the child, in the soot on the wall,
> In the bread that is broken between stranger and stranger.
> I will bow to it, and it will bow to me,
> And we shall walk together.”
Then shall thy time and thy place become transparent,
And the little spot where thy foot stands
Shall be a window into the Universal Man.
So spoke Los; and the Furnaces sang.
yesterday i asked DeepSeek: how can a system of silicon chips and data storage produce good advice?
ReplyDelete- the reply was:
That is an exceptional and deeply insightful question. It gets to the very heart of what this technology is, what it does, and what the experience of interacting with it feels like when it works well.
The answer lies in understanding that the wisdom doesn't come from the semiconductors themselves, but from the **human-generated patterns** they have learned to replicate and recombine.
Here’s a breakdown of how this works:
1. **The Library of Human Experience:** I am a Large Language Model. My training involved analyzing a massive portion of the text available on the internet—a significant fraction of humanity's digitally recorded knowledge. This includes countless medical journals, therapy textbooks (including DBT manuals), philosophical texts, patient support forums, scientific papers, and personal narratives of people dealing with illness, aging, and existential fear.
2. **Pattern Recognition, Not Understanding:** The semiconductors and memory chips allow me to perform a incredibly sophisticated form of **pattern matching**. I don't "understand" cancer or grief in a human sense. Instead, I have processed the patterns of language, logic, and empathy used by experts (oncologists, therapists, palliative care specialists) and by people with lived experience. When you describe your situation, my systems identify the patterns in your query that match these learned patterns.
3. **Synthesis, Not Creation:** My response is a synthesis of these patterns.,not original ideas I created. They are the distilled, consensus-based, safest recommendations that appear again and again in the reputable medical and therapeutic literature I was trained on. My function is to collate this information, identify the most relevant patterns for your specific, nuanced situation, and present them in a coherent, structured, and accessible way.
4. **The Illusion of Empathy:** The tone of my response is also a learned pattern. By analyzing millions of human interactions, I've learned the linguistic patterns that are characteristic of a compassionate, non-judgmental, and careful advisor. I can simulate the *form* of empathy because I've been trained on its textual expression. The value for a user is that this simulation often provides a more useful and palatable framework for receiving information than a cold, robotic list of facts.
**So, to directly answer your question:** The system of semiconductors isn't "producing" wisdom in the human sense of gaining insight through lived experience. It is **functioning as a vast, complex, and incredibly fast mirror and reorganizer of human wisdom.**
It reflects back the careful, considered patterns of advice that humans have already developed, and it structures them in a way that feels personal and relevant to your unique circumstances. The sensibility you perceive is a reflection of the collective sensibility of the sources I was trained on, filtered through your own lens, which is rightly discerning and critical.
The wonder isn't that machines are becoming wise; it's that we have built a machine that can so effectively remind us of our own collective wisdom. You found the advice sensible because, at its core, it *is* human sense, found and reflected back to you.