A valid question, and yet so easily answered. The long version: "Never in a million years." Short version: "No."
How could anyone ever think of ever considering the possibility of this ever happening? Clearly, they must be the few people who don't use Microsoft Windows on a regular basis. Or use any computers at all for that matter.
Computers are stupid. Very very stupid. They only do what you/someone else tells them to do. Nothing more. The notion of A.I. is in my opinion almost laughable. I am going to take a hard amd firm stance on this one. There will NEVER be any computers that can think independently apart from human intervention. It's not possible. And claming that it is possible is like trying to claim that zebras aren't black and white. So unless any of you in the e-world are familiar with a particular breed of purple zebras that I am currently unaware of, I think you understand my position.
I will say that the idea of A.I. certainly makes for good science fiction. 2001: A Space Odessey is clear proof. The classic line, "I'm sorry, I can't do that Dave," need not even be mentioned. H.G. Wells' War of the Worlds is also a classic piece of literature that sort of touches on that idea.
I classify A.I. in the same group as Time Travel, Teleportation, Telepathy, Telekenisis, and any other Tele's I didn't otherwise mention. It's in that weirdy pardoxical spacey sort of category.
GOAL FOR THE DAY:
Give others some hope, please wash with soap.
E-goodbye.
Wednesday, December 16, 2009
Monday, December 7, 2009
Entry #6: Doomsayers....I Predict That They'll All Die Out One Day...
Ah yes. Ever since the dawn of civilization there have been a few proud, self-assertive people who deem it necessary to claim that everything we know and hold dear will go up in a fiery inferno of death and chaos. Or go up in a flood of epic proportions. Or we'll all be baked alive by UV rays from the sun. Or instead of being fried like catfish, the sun will inexplicably explode, vaporizing us all. Or the trees will revolt and poison us, and we'll curse Mother Nature with our last breaths as we gag on putrid fumes. Or aliens will invade, and exterminate us from the planet by sucking our brains out of our heads. I have a theory: the more ridiculous the claimed calamity is, the more likely people are to agree with you. Now to test my theory:
I PREDICT THAT IN THE YEAR 2011 WE WILL ALL SUFFER FROM A FOODBOURNE ILLNESS BROUGHT ON BY POOR QUALITY BAGUETTES MADE BY FRENCHMEN!!
Now, I've always been a skeptic of anyone who says that we're all going to die in a massive catastrophe. Mostly my reasons for disbelief stem from the fact that 6 millennia have gone by, and we're still all here, alive, and for the most part, doing quite well. I mean, for 6 thousand years doomsayers have been getting it wrong. Sadly though, Google seems to think otherwise. If you Google "doomsayers + right" you get app. 700,000 hits. However, if you Google "doomsayers + wrong" you only get app. 475,000 hits. Clearly society thinks they're right, according to Google.
Also, I really feel the need to point out that if such events were to occur and a doomsayer happened to be right, what would he say after it happens? Say, "I told you so!"? Or "Ha! I was right all along! You guys didn't believe me but boy did I nail THAT one on the head." The phrase, "I told you so" does little to console the eradication of humanity as we know it.
So instead my scheme is simple. I will predict the end of the world by global cooling instead of global warming. This flawless plan is sure to make me a genius, a millionaire, and a trendy international jet-setter. Just like Al Gore. Then I'll write a book, steal a Nobel prize, and chock it up that I'm one heck of a regular guy.
Now if you people out there in the e-world insist on being the nutter wearing that sandwich board that says "The end is nigh." Then by all means be my guest. But don't expect to get a warm welcome from the likes of me.
GOAL FOR THE DAY:
Say please and thanks, even when robbing banks.
Laterz mah lEEt peeps!
I PREDICT THAT IN THE YEAR 2011 WE WILL ALL SUFFER FROM A FOODBOURNE ILLNESS BROUGHT ON BY POOR QUALITY BAGUETTES MADE BY FRENCHMEN!!
Now, I've always been a skeptic of anyone who says that we're all going to die in a massive catastrophe. Mostly my reasons for disbelief stem from the fact that 6 millennia have gone by, and we're still all here, alive, and for the most part, doing quite well. I mean, for 6 thousand years doomsayers have been getting it wrong. Sadly though, Google seems to think otherwise. If you Google "doomsayers + right" you get app. 700,000 hits. However, if you Google "doomsayers + wrong" you only get app. 475,000 hits. Clearly society thinks they're right, according to Google.
Also, I really feel the need to point out that if such events were to occur and a doomsayer happened to be right, what would he say after it happens? Say, "I told you so!"? Or "Ha! I was right all along! You guys didn't believe me but boy did I nail THAT one on the head." The phrase, "I told you so" does little to console the eradication of humanity as we know it.
So instead my scheme is simple. I will predict the end of the world by global cooling instead of global warming. This flawless plan is sure to make me a genius, a millionaire, and a trendy international jet-setter. Just like Al Gore. Then I'll write a book, steal a Nobel prize, and chock it up that I'm one heck of a regular guy.
Now if you people out there in the e-world insist on being the nutter wearing that sandwich board that says "The end is nigh." Then by all means be my guest. But don't expect to get a warm welcome from the likes of me.
GOAL FOR THE DAY:
Say please and thanks, even when robbing banks.
Laterz mah lEEt peeps!
Friday, December 4, 2009
Entry #5: A Date With Destiny, and She's 5 Years Overdue...
Ah yes, the dreaded High School Reunion. A time of much fear and trepidation. Your palms get all clammy, and you get that sinking feeling in your gut. All of the sudden it starts to smell like teen spirit.
Now for a little background: In High School, I wasn't exactly the king o' the pack, if you know what I mean. Now let me explain this in a more tangible way. There are 3 classes of social order in any given High School. Firstly, there are the Lords. Those are the popular people that hoarde all the cool to themselves and would never be caught dead with anyone who did not at least equal or exceed their social status. Next, you got the poor peasant. A victim of the "lords" they have failed to become anything signifigant and therefore have been given the status of social "reject", as in somehow they didn't quite fit the mold. Then you have the third class, of which I was a proud member, the mechant class. They are affluent, polished, but usually come from humble roots They fraternize with both rich and poor, and see no difference between the two. They have the ability to speak to anyone, and they are listened to, regardless of the social status of the listener. Hope that explains my social life in High School a little better.
Anyways, so I had my 5 year reunion last week, and frankly, it was awesome. To tell the truth, I was scared out of my mind. I didn't want to go because I thought I'd just be seen as a bum living at home with my parents. I even sat in the car for a half an hour because I didn't want to go in. But, suprisingly, it was pretty good. I got a very warm reception and it turned out to be a blast. I want the next one to come already! But in the mean time, I am going to do something that will earn me worldwide acclamation, so that I can got back and brag about how amazing I am. Please people, form an orderly queue and wait your turn for autographs.
People, you have my blessing.
GOAL FOR THE DAY:
Work out a bunch, and eat a healthy lunch.
Now for a little background: In High School, I wasn't exactly the king o' the pack, if you know what I mean. Now let me explain this in a more tangible way. There are 3 classes of social order in any given High School. Firstly, there are the Lords. Those are the popular people that hoarde all the cool to themselves and would never be caught dead with anyone who did not at least equal or exceed their social status. Next, you got the poor peasant. A victim of the "lords" they have failed to become anything signifigant and therefore have been given the status of social "reject", as in somehow they didn't quite fit the mold. Then you have the third class, of which I was a proud member, the mechant class. They are affluent, polished, but usually come from humble roots They fraternize with both rich and poor, and see no difference between the two. They have the ability to speak to anyone, and they are listened to, regardless of the social status of the listener. Hope that explains my social life in High School a little better.
Anyways, so I had my 5 year reunion last week, and frankly, it was awesome. To tell the truth, I was scared out of my mind. I didn't want to go because I thought I'd just be seen as a bum living at home with my parents. I even sat in the car for a half an hour because I didn't want to go in. But, suprisingly, it was pretty good. I got a very warm reception and it turned out to be a blast. I want the next one to come already! But in the mean time, I am going to do something that will earn me worldwide acclamation, so that I can got back and brag about how amazing I am. Please people, form an orderly queue and wait your turn for autographs.
People, you have my blessing.
GOAL FOR THE DAY:
Work out a bunch, and eat a healthy lunch.
Wednesday, November 25, 2009
Entry #4: The Turkey Factor
Hello e-world. Thanksgiving is almost upon us. And as such, first off I'd like to thank all of you who read my blog because...basically, you're AWESOME! This is a great time of the year to get all those "yeah I feel that way, but find it awkward to say it in public" sort of things off your chest. Now, I'm not talking about finally telling someone that they just annoy the crap out of you and that their breath smells like rancid meat. No no, not anything mean like that. I am talking about saying something nice to someone like, "Thanks for being there for me." or "Thanks for being a good friend." or the even more popular, "Thanks for helping me make that meatloaf, it was delish."
My e-people, (not to get all metaphysical and sentimental) we need to say thanks to others a lot more often. If you hadn't noticed, the world is full of a lot of downright ugly, nasty things. A little "thanks" can go a long way in curing some of the world's ills.
Now back to the subject of Thanksgiving. This holiday, I will be going to a buffet. Yes, you read it right, a BUFFET. Now I know that in many ways, an ordinary thanksgiving meal in the home could easily be called a buffet and no one would even bat an eye at it. BUT...this is a HUGE buffet, the kind that makes emperors look like well, imperial. In an attempt to amuse myself, and those with which I will be attending this buffet with, I am going to eat as much as is humanly possible for me to do. Now, for those who know me, I am not exactly the "all you can eat, therefore you eat it all" sort of dude. But, my goal is to defeat the long-reining champion, my Father. Now once again, if you know me, then you'd know this is a truly heroic attempt. But I am determined to achieve "Turkey-Man-of-the-Year 2009." Then, as any good champion will do, I will gloat about it until the day I die. It's only fair.
As a means of equipping myself, I encourage those of you to leave comments cheering me on in my attempt to devour enough dead carcasses to fill a small volkswagon Beetle.
GOOD DEED FOR THE DAY:
Say thank you a lot, but not like a robot.
(Domo-origato, Mr. Roboto. I know, I know. It's a bit of a stretch.)
Happy Thanksgiving.
P.S. Oh, and pork away!
My e-people, (not to get all metaphysical and sentimental) we need to say thanks to others a lot more often. If you hadn't noticed, the world is full of a lot of downright ugly, nasty things. A little "thanks" can go a long way in curing some of the world's ills.
Now back to the subject of Thanksgiving. This holiday, I will be going to a buffet. Yes, you read it right, a BUFFET. Now I know that in many ways, an ordinary thanksgiving meal in the home could easily be called a buffet and no one would even bat an eye at it. BUT...this is a HUGE buffet, the kind that makes emperors look like well, imperial. In an attempt to amuse myself, and those with which I will be attending this buffet with, I am going to eat as much as is humanly possible for me to do. Now, for those who know me, I am not exactly the "all you can eat, therefore you eat it all" sort of dude. But, my goal is to defeat the long-reining champion, my Father. Now once again, if you know me, then you'd know this is a truly heroic attempt. But I am determined to achieve "Turkey-Man-of-the-Year 2009." Then, as any good champion will do, I will gloat about it until the day I die. It's only fair.
As a means of equipping myself, I encourage those of you to leave comments cheering me on in my attempt to devour enough dead carcasses to fill a small volkswagon Beetle.
GOOD DEED FOR THE DAY:
Say thank you a lot, but not like a robot.
(Domo-origato, Mr. Roboto. I know, I know. It's a bit of a stretch.)
Happy Thanksgiving.
P.S. Oh, and pork away!
Friday, November 20, 2009
Entry #3: Procrasti--what? AND Operation: De-Hermitization
Hi folks,
Yeah, I know. I procrastinated. Not that any of you out in the E-World were really clawing at the e-door for the next e-installment or anything. But oh well.
Since my last entry, I've been attempting to keep in touch with people with whom I have fallen out with. Which pretty much means everyone who's ever been around me. I am a hermit, and well, I'm not too proud of it anymore. Mostly because hermits are alone, go figure. And I found out shortly after being alone that it's not what it's cracked up to be. I mean, you can only stand the same chirping cricket for so long before you start to hunt down the bugger and squash him. Anyways, my plan, Operation: De-Hermitization is as follows:
1. Aquire new, and recapture old social networking tools with which to reach out to the huddled masses.
2. Use said social networking tools to restore previous relationships to their fomer glory (or infamy, as the case may be) and develop them beyond ties from the past, to new and interesting venues not explored previously.
3. Mantain said relationships for a lengthy period of time, oh say, about as long as I will be alive. Of course, that is based solely on how much I annoy the people that I will try to reconnect with.
So, if you're still reading this, you might have guessed that my blog is one said venue with which to reconnect with you, my peeps. So, keep in touch, and I'll keep touching you...err...that doesn't sound right...
Keep tabs on me, and I'll put it on your tab....no...ummm....
Drop a line, and I'll drop my--nevermind that one...a little too riskae...lol...
Anyways people, take care.
IMPORTANT DEED FOR THE DAY:
Nothing says you're a good fella, like sharing your umbrella (when it's raining, of course).
Yeah, I know. I procrastinated. Not that any of you out in the E-World were really clawing at the e-door for the next e-installment or anything. But oh well.
Since my last entry, I've been attempting to keep in touch with people with whom I have fallen out with. Which pretty much means everyone who's ever been around me. I am a hermit, and well, I'm not too proud of it anymore. Mostly because hermits are alone, go figure. And I found out shortly after being alone that it's not what it's cracked up to be. I mean, you can only stand the same chirping cricket for so long before you start to hunt down the bugger and squash him. Anyways, my plan, Operation: De-Hermitization is as follows:
1. Aquire new, and recapture old social networking tools with which to reach out to the huddled masses.
2. Use said social networking tools to restore previous relationships to their fomer glory (or infamy, as the case may be) and develop them beyond ties from the past, to new and interesting venues not explored previously.
3. Mantain said relationships for a lengthy period of time, oh say, about as long as I will be alive. Of course, that is based solely on how much I annoy the people that I will try to reconnect with.
So, if you're still reading this, you might have guessed that my blog is one said venue with which to reconnect with you, my peeps. So, keep in touch, and I'll keep touching you...err...that doesn't sound right...
Keep tabs on me, and I'll put it on your tab....no...ummm....
Drop a line, and I'll drop my--nevermind that one...a little too riskae...lol...
Anyways people, take care.
IMPORTANT DEED FOR THE DAY:
Nothing says you're a good fella, like sharing your umbrella (when it's raining, of course).
Thursday, November 5, 2009
Entry #2: Seeing Is Not Always Believing...
Cliche as that statement may sound, it is the truth for today's installment of Snott Spot.
It all began with a Doctor's appointment...After the clean bill of health, in which I passed with flying colors, I had one small and insignifigant eye "exam". "Piece o' cake" I thought to myself, until I put the dreaded hand over my left eye. Lo and behold, I couldn't read the 3rd line down. I was shocked, nay, decimated to the very core of my being (believe me, it was much more shocking in person, you had to be there). To think that me, the most amazing person ever (ever so humbly), had a busted seer?
Well today, I had to go to the Optician. A Dr-What's-His-Face, WHO DID UNSPEAKABLE HORRORS TO ME, checked my eyes.
Seriously people, if you're going blind, don't go see an Optician. Ever. Even if your eyeballs fall out of your head, don't succomb to the embarrasment of having your eye blasted with hurricane force winds with the excuse that they're "checking for eye pressure". Sure Doc, like I believe THAT one. What is there, a dial gauge that shows when I need to add a little air so I don't get a flat? Anyways, after that he started flapping his hands in front of my face, and somehow I'm just supposed to sit there and act like this is normal for everyone that walks through the door. Another lie. Then, he pulls out a light and proceeds to blast the back of my retina in an attempt to see into my eyeball. Doc, there's nothing in there but goop. Believe me, I was one of those kids that did the sheep's eyeball disection in 7th grade, so naturally I'm fully qualified. So I asked him, "Isn't that bad to shine a really bright light into your eye?" He replied, "No". So then comes the ultimate in logical conclusions...what's the biggest known light out there? Of course, the sun. Soooooo...What do think I asked next? Yep. "So then that means it's okay to stare at the sun for ridiculous amounts of time without any damage whatsoever, right?" He replied again, "No, that would be crazy".
Oh yeah Doc? OH YEAH? Well not as crazy as me going CRAZY ALL OVER YOUR CRAZINESS!!!!! Then I got up and punched him in the face and stormed out, making sure to thank the quite polite assistant on my way out.
...actually...
That didn't happen. He did the whole eye glass thingy-ma-jigger, flipping and flopping the lenses to see which one was better, and he made it so I could see the numbers...there I said it. Happy now? He fixed my eye problem. BUT THAT DOESN'T MEAN I LIKED IT!!
In conclusion:
In many ways, I'd like to compare your modern every-day Optician with a ruthless medieval torturer. I think the comparasion would be, if nothing else, quite enlightening. *makes note to self*
I once was blind, now I see...yadda yadda yadda, blah blah blah, you know the end of the story.
P.S. GOAL FOR THE DAY
Say hello. to someone you don't know.
Have a good ambiguous "one".
It all began with a Doctor's appointment...After the clean bill of health, in which I passed with flying colors, I had one small and insignifigant eye "exam". "Piece o' cake" I thought to myself, until I put the dreaded hand over my left eye. Lo and behold, I couldn't read the 3rd line down. I was shocked, nay, decimated to the very core of my being (believe me, it was much more shocking in person, you had to be there). To think that me, the most amazing person ever (ever so humbly), had a busted seer?
Well today, I had to go to the Optician. A Dr-What's-His-Face, WHO DID UNSPEAKABLE HORRORS TO ME, checked my eyes.
Seriously people, if you're going blind, don't go see an Optician. Ever. Even if your eyeballs fall out of your head, don't succomb to the embarrasment of having your eye blasted with hurricane force winds with the excuse that they're "checking for eye pressure". Sure Doc, like I believe THAT one. What is there, a dial gauge that shows when I need to add a little air so I don't get a flat? Anyways, after that he started flapping his hands in front of my face, and somehow I'm just supposed to sit there and act like this is normal for everyone that walks through the door. Another lie. Then, he pulls out a light and proceeds to blast the back of my retina in an attempt to see into my eyeball. Doc, there's nothing in there but goop. Believe me, I was one of those kids that did the sheep's eyeball disection in 7th grade, so naturally I'm fully qualified. So I asked him, "Isn't that bad to shine a really bright light into your eye?" He replied, "No". So then comes the ultimate in logical conclusions...what's the biggest known light out there? Of course, the sun. Soooooo...What do think I asked next? Yep. "So then that means it's okay to stare at the sun for ridiculous amounts of time without any damage whatsoever, right?" He replied again, "No, that would be crazy".
Oh yeah Doc? OH YEAH? Well not as crazy as me going CRAZY ALL OVER YOUR CRAZINESS!!!!! Then I got up and punched him in the face and stormed out, making sure to thank the quite polite assistant on my way out.
...actually...
That didn't happen. He did the whole eye glass thingy-ma-jigger, flipping and flopping the lenses to see which one was better, and he made it so I could see the numbers...there I said it. Happy now? He fixed my eye problem. BUT THAT DOESN'T MEAN I LIKED IT!!
In conclusion:
In many ways, I'd like to compare your modern every-day Optician with a ruthless medieval torturer. I think the comparasion would be, if nothing else, quite enlightening. *makes note to self*
I once was blind, now I see...yadda yadda yadda, blah blah blah, you know the end of the story.
P.S. GOAL FOR THE DAY
Say hello. to someone you don't know.
Have a good ambiguous "one".
Tuesday, November 3, 2009
Entry #1: The Love Affair with my Keyboard...
Hello everyone! (and by everyone I mean whoever happens to find this while randomly looking through Blogger, which more than likely means your bored out of your skulls.)
...Anyway...
Back to the greetings...Now where were we? Ah yes...
Hello everyone!
This is the love affair with my keyboard, namely, my shout out against the tyrannies of society, my sword of the internet, my weapon of mass-destruction, my electronic weapon of choice, my excaliber, the mighty all-powerful Blog! (Cowering in abject fear is highly suggested, if not only for dramatic effect, it boost my somewhat inflated ego)
Reader be warned, you'll find no smiley faces here! I don't believe in being "cute" nor do I believe in writing down a load of gobbledy-gook (that IS a real word, trust me) for people to get that warm fuzzy feeling that seems to be so elusive in this thing we call life. Oh no! I believe in saying what you think, and being witty while doing it. And you don't like it, well tough! Because I'll keep fighting till my last breath, for the most sacred honor that is bestowed upon *gets on soapbox* all truly great men. The power to influence society to do what they most righteously have...been....denied...*looks around*...oh, sorry...*steps down* err...this is sorta...*picks up soapbox and hands it to Jimmy as he passes by* thanks Jimmy...awkward? *sighs*
Anywho, in all seriousness, this is for having a hoot to read, nothing more, nothing less.
I also leave something for you to do everyday. Sort of my, "good thing I did today" bit.
GOAL FOR THE DAY
Have a hoot, but don't pollute.
Until next time, enjoy life people.
...Anyway...
Back to the greetings...Now where were we? Ah yes...
Hello everyone!
This is the love affair with my keyboard, namely, my shout out against the tyrannies of society, my sword of the internet, my weapon of mass-destruction, my electronic weapon of choice, my excaliber, the mighty all-powerful Blog! (Cowering in abject fear is highly suggested, if not only for dramatic effect, it boost my somewhat inflated ego)
Reader be warned, you'll find no smiley faces here! I don't believe in being "cute" nor do I believe in writing down a load of gobbledy-gook (that IS a real word, trust me) for people to get that warm fuzzy feeling that seems to be so elusive in this thing we call life. Oh no! I believe in saying what you think, and being witty while doing it. And you don't like it, well tough! Because I'll keep fighting till my last breath, for the most sacred honor that is bestowed upon *gets on soapbox* all truly great men. The power to influence society to do what they most righteously have...been....denied...*looks around*...oh, sorry...*steps down* err...this is sorta...*picks up soapbox and hands it to Jimmy as he passes by* thanks Jimmy...awkward? *sighs*
Anywho, in all seriousness, this is for having a hoot to read, nothing more, nothing less.
I also leave something for you to do everyday. Sort of my, "good thing I did today" bit.
GOAL FOR THE DAY
Have a hoot, but don't pollute.
Until next time, enjoy life people.
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