So 1ce I met this stranj blok he sed Im Manny he sed he wer ritin a tel bout the story as I rot he red it sumhow. I dint no if I likt it but I sed gooSo 1ce I met this stranj blok he sed Im Manny he sed he wer ritin a tel bout the story as I rot he red it sumhow. I dint no if I likt it but I sed good yu du that yu rit. An he sez Riddley yu livin in a poster pock lipstik faybl yu no that? Wel I dint unnerstan him a poster thats a kinder pictur an lipstik thats as a woman put on her mouf in the old tims its in a song the kids sing:
I don no wot it mean no 1 do. But Manny he kep blipin bout his poster pock lipstik faybl and he sez Riddley ur lanwidj its speshul sum pepul wont see it thewl say its a trik but I no betr. Rit I say wots speshul bout my lanwidj then? An Manny he say its how we no yur worl. Thru ur lanwidj. Not thru the 2nd noing thru the 1st noing. Its speshul trust me. Yur worl its bin split into 2 ½s like the Littl Shyning Man its all broke an its thru ur langwidj we no that thru the 1st noing.
I dint no nuthin bout his tel an his langwidj an his poster pock lipstik faybl. I thort it wer jus cow shit. So I say to the dogs u go rit ahed I no ur tird of waytin. An they tore out Mannys throt an et him qwiker an I can tel it.
Wel that wer it for Manny an me an the dogs we gon on an dint think no mor bout him. Later tho I thot hold on lanwidj thats as yu make with yur mouf and lipstik thats a red mouf like its a woun like its bin split in 2 ½s. Praps thayres a connexion. But it wer 2 late....more
[A comment thread on Goodreads. SOCRATES, CHAEREPHON, GORGIAS, CALLICLES]
CHAEREPHON: By Zeus! Do my eyes deceive me, or has Socrates also discovered t[A comment thread on Goodreads. SOCRATES, CHAEREPHON, GORGIAS, CALLICLES]
CHAEREPHON: By Zeus! Do my eyes deceive me, or has Socrates also discovered the internet?
GORGIAS: Socrates, pray tell us, is it you? And if so, what are you doing on Goodreads?
SOCRATES: Greetings, my friends. Your surmise is correct; it is I, and once again I dispute with Callicles. I hope you will do us the honor of joining in the debate.
CHAEREPHON: With pleasure, Socrates. What weighty matters are you discussing here?
SOCRATES: Why, the most obvious ones: what is Goodreads, and how should a man best comport himself here?
CHAEREPHON: And what says Callicles?
CALLICLES: I am once again surprised to find Socrates posing questions that any beardless youth should readily be able to answer. On Goodreads, as in any other society, a man's duty is the same; if he is not a coward or a weakling, he should amass wealth and standing, that he may gradually rise to become a person of consequence.
SOCRATES: And how may he do that?
CALLICLES: Socrates, I hardly feel I need to explain such an elementary matter. If you insist, however, it is of course by accumulating likes.
SOCRATES: And have you been successful in this attempt?
CALLICLES: I do not wish to sound boastful; but already today I have received 129 likes, though the sun has yet to rise in California.
SOCRATES: A goodly number, Callicles! Would you please be so kind as to tell us how have you achieved this impressive total?
CALLICLES: If I may say so without appearing complacent, I have after a few months mastered the online reviewer's art. I review popular books that can be read quickly, so I can post many reviews each week; I make my reviews neither too short nor too long, but steer a happy mean between the two extremes; I include animated gifs, jokes and lewd plays on words; I acquire as many friends as possible; I vote for their reviews, that they in turn may vote for mine. The result you see. I imagine you do the same?
SOCRATES: In fact, I do not.
CALLICLES: Then what do you do?
SOCRATES: I read books I believe will help me discover new ideas and new ways of thinking, though they are often difficult and require much time to complete; I post reviews rarely, and only after careful deliberation; I am cautious in the accepting of friend requests, for I find that idle conversation with Harry Potter fans is of little help to me, but rather a vexatious interruption.
CALLICLES: And do you receive many likes with this curious method?
SOCRATES: Few, Callicles; I have never been expert in arithmetic, but I am sure I could count all those I have been given this week on my ten fingers. Nonetheless, I would not have it otherwise.
CALLICLES: I fear, Socrates, that you will not find many people to emulate your example.
SOCRATES: And why do you consider your way of reviewing so much more attractive?
CALLICLES: As usual, I do not see why you bother to ask the question. But to state the obvious: I choose entertaining, readily accessible books which I enjoy reading. When I am finished, I write a review which will amuse my many friends. They express their appreciation by giving me likes, which increases my standing in the community. I am thus made happy twice by each book; once by the reading of it, and once by the likes which I receive. In contrast, I fear that you are not made happy even once.
SOCRATES: You are quite correct; but why should that be considered a disadvantage of my method?
CALLICLES: Come, you surely jest.
SOCRATES: Not at all: if we are friends, and I hope I may count you among my friends, please answer my question.
CALLICLES: Socrates, your friend request was among the eighteen I accepted this morning, so you are correct. But the question you ask is utterly absurd. Why would anyone wish to read, if it did not give them pleasure?
SOCRATES: So you aver that the purpose of reading must be pleasure, and that this pleasure is heightened by reviewing the book and receiving praise and flattery in the form of likes?
CALLICLES: I would not have put it in quite those words, but yes, that is what I think. It is self-evident.
SOCRATES: Do you then maintain that pleasure is the motivation for all your actions, and that you always choose the pleasurable in preference to the displeasurable?
CALLICLES: As I said, I would not express it thus, but I imagine I do.
SOCRATES: Please answer, yes or no.
CALLICLES: You are a remarkably irritating person, Socrates. Very well, the answer is yes.
SOCRATES: But is it not the case that, in the amusing review of Arthur Agatston's The South Beach Diet that you posted last week, and for which you have already received 87 likes, you said that you love eating cheeseburgers, but that Mr. Agatson had helped you stop doing so?
CALLICLES: Well--
SOCRATES: Please answer, yes or no.
CALLICLES: Yes, damn you. I did write that.
SOCRATES: Am I thus right in thinking that you find it pleasurable to eat cheeseburgers?
CALLICLES: You are right. But I will say that I am starting to find this very tiresome.
SOCRATES: Please, good Callicles, bear with me. I only seek after truth, and I beg you in the name of our friendship to help me in my search. If I make any claim you think untrue, you have but to say, and I will take it in good part.
CALLICLES: I begin to see why you have only six online friends.
SOCRATES: Indeed, they are all very dear to me, and I would not exchange them for a thousand others. But we were talking about cheeseburgers. Now, it seems to me that you have already admitted that you find it pleasurable to eat cheeseburgers, but nonetheless you prefer not to do so, because you consider that they contain excessive levels of saturated fats? You even had a witty graphic illustrating the point.
CALLICLES: Yes. I wrote that too.
SOCRATES: So you admit that, in the case of cheeseburgers, pleasure is not your only guide to conduct.
CALLICLES: Alright Socrates, you have as usual caught me contradicting myself. Well done. Now I think I will go back to reading Mockingjay if you don't mind.
SOCRATES: Then you concede that your initial statement was incorrect, and that there is no reason whatsoever to read for pleasure?
CALLICLES: No, of course I concede nothing of the kind. A book is not a cheeseburger. And I imagine all the other people in this thread are just as bored with this argument as I am.
CHAEREPHON: Not at all, Callicles! We're loving it.
GORGIAS: I'm putting on some more popcorn.
SOCRATES: Thank you both, you are very gracious. But now, Callicles, let us return to the cheeseburgers and the books. Why do you follow the advice of Mr. Agatson and refrain from eating cheeseburgers, although you say you love them?
CALLICLES: Because they are very bad for me of course. I've lost ten pounds since I stopped.
SOCRATES: So you agree that cheeseburgers harm your body?
CALLICLES: Yes. That's what I just said. Don't you ever let up?
SOCRATES: Not when I am seeking truth. Now, if you were given a choice between harming your body and harming your mind, which one would you choose?
CALLICLES: I suppose I would prefer to harm my body.
SOCRATES: So you consider that harming your mind would be worse?
CALLICLES: Okay, I do. So what?
SOCRATES: Am I correct in thinking that you have read and reviewed all 29 volumes of Laurell K. Hamilton's Anita Blake, Vampire Hunter? A series of reviews which by my count has already yielded you a total of 3,487 votes.
CALLICLES: I admit that the later volumes are weak. After Narcissus in Chains I was not really enjoying myself. But it was fun to slam them all the same. I got some great comments.
SOCRATES: I believe you wrote in your review of Incubus Dreams that you "don't think you've ever been so relieved to finish a novel, since it ate so much of your time"?
CALLICLES: I did write that, yes.
SOCRATES: And you also wrote that it was "sh!t, pure and simple"?
CALLICLES: I seem to recall that phrase.
SOCRATES: But despite these comments, you read the remaining sixteen books?
CALLICLES: I had to. My fans kept begging me for the next review. I couldn't leave them hanging.
SOCRATES: Would you say that your mind was improved by this experience?
CALLICLES: That would be kind of difficult.
SOCRATES: Would you say it left your mind unchanged then?
CALLICLES: I'd have to think about it. I really got to hate them at the end. I read the last eight in ten days flat because I just couldn't stand them any more. And okay, I'm being honest here, I did feel kind of jumpy for a while after that. Probably I'd drunk too much espresso.
SOCRATES: So in short, you think that these books harmed your mental well-being?
CALLICLES: I wouldn't say there was any lasting damage.
SOCRATES: I trust there was not. But, to return to our original theme, I wish to ask whether you still think that your search for pleasure through reading and online reviewing is an entirely healthy activity?
CALLICLES: Damn it, Socrates, you always manage to twist things around. You're right. Maybe I've kind of let this get out of hand. So what have you been reading?
SOCRATES: I am halfway through Helge Kragh's Matter and Spirit in the Universe: Scientific and Religious Preludes to Modern Cosmology.
CALLICLES: Does it have any vampires?
SOCRATES: No.
CALLICLES: Any sex?
SOCRATES: No.
CALLICLES: Could it be described as a pageturner?
SOCRATES: I have several times fallen asleep in the middle of a sentence.
CALLICLES: Will the review get you any likes?
SOCRATES: Maybe a dozen. If I'm lucky.
CALLICLES: And you're still reading it?
SOCRATES: Yes.
CALLICLES: You just don't give a fuck what anyone thinks, do you?
SOCRATES: I suppose I don't.
CALLICLES: You like annoying people too much, Socrates. You're going to get yourself into trouble one day.
SOCRATES: You think so?
CALLICLES: I do.
SOCRATES: Well, if the alternative is reading all of Anita Blake, then I guess I'll just have to take my chances.
_______________________
But seriously...
Gorgias is often described as a kind of prequel or rehearsal for the more famous Republic, and Plato is exploring more or less the same themes: what reasons are there for behaving ethically, do our real motivations ever amount to more than a desire for status and pleasure, and is it even defensible to argue that we should want other things?
In most of Plato's dialogues, the people Socrates talks to are quiet and respectful. Most often they agree with everything he says in an annoyingly subservient fashion; even when they disagree, as for example in Protagoras, they are polite and collegial. These two, however, are different. Callicles here, and Thrasymachus in the Republic, are argumentative to the point of outright rudeness. It makes an interesting contrast....more
Celebrity Death Match Special: Heretic versus I, Cleopatra
HUGH GRANT: I'm going to ask you a very personal question. I hope that's alright?
SOPH[image]
Celebrity Death Match Special: Heretic versus I, Cleopatra
HUGH GRANT: I'm going to ask you a very personal question. I hope that's alright?
SOPHIE THATCHER: Well, it depends on what the question is.
GRANT: I'm going to ask you anyway. Do you like Jesus?
CHLOE EAST: Why, what a question, Mr. Reed!
GRANT: Do you?
THATCHER: Of course I do! I love Him with all my soul!
GRANT: But what do you know about Jesus that makes you feel that way?
EAST: Everything, Mr. Reed! Every word of the Gospels!
GRANT: I quite understand, I quite understand. All the same, I must ask you to think a little further. What makes you believe that the Gospels are reliable?
THATCHER: Well, I—
GRANT: I'll tell you what, let's make this a little easier. It's always so complicated to talk about the historical accuracy of the Bible, isn't it? So, do you like Cleopatra?
EAST: Cleopatra?
GRANT: Exactly. Cleopatra. That might be more, how should I put it, neutral territory on which to carry out our thought experiment.
THATCHER: Ah, I don't think I like Cleopatra very much.
GRANT: Now, once again I must repeat my question. What do you know about Cleopatra that makes you feel that way?
THATCHER: She was a vain, ungodly woman. She seduced Mark Anthony and ruined his life and eventually killed him.
GRANT: And from where did you obtain these, let us for the moment call them facts, about the life of Cleopatra?
THATCHER: We did Anthony and Cleopatra in Eng Lit. And I saw the movie with Elizabeth Taylor. And I read the Asterix book.
GRANT: Excellent! We're making progress. And where do you think the authors of these entertaining works got their facts from?
EAST: I guess— uh— some kind of history books? I mean—
GRANT: Exactly! Some kind of history books is exactly right! Though of course, history books are not always very reliable either. In this particular case, the history book in question is probably Plutarch's biography of Mark Antony from the Vītae Parallēlae, which was written over a century after Cleopatra's death. It is largely based on propaganda created by the Emperor Augustus, who was Cleopatra's mortal enemy. [He puts a book on the table] I'm asking you if you necessarily believe everything in here?
THATCHER: Well—
GRANT: Or perhaps you're more inclined to trust Suetonius, who in his Divus Augustus paints an entirely more positive picture of Cleopatra. This has also served as inspiration for various popular treatments, most recently Margaret George's trilogy I, Cleopatra. For some reason I appear to have the Italian edition here, but I hope that won't confuse you. [He puts more books on the table] According to Suetonius, and also to Ms George, Cleopatra was a noble, highly intelligent queen. Ms George goes as far as to suggest that her eventual downfall was due to Anthony's weak and impulsive nature.
EAST: But she did seduce him?
GRANT: All the historians appear to be in agreement on that point, though the details are presumably unreliable. Be that as it may, and even if it eventually did little to help her, Cleopatra undoubtedly was quick to bring Anthony to the point where he would literally do anything to get into her panties.
THATCHER: Panties hadn't been invented yet.
GRANT: I am not so sure! Cleopatra was ahead of her time, and her seductive appearance was a matter of vital national importance. It would hardly surprise me to find that she had teams of artisans constantly engaged in further developing and perfecting ever more magical kinds of underwear, the better to enhance her natural charms. Though I admit that Suetonius has little to say about the matter.
EAST: I—
GRANT: Some people might be wondering what this lengthy detour has to do with your religious faith. But I can see you're intelligent girls, and you anticipate my next question. Let's get back to Jesus. What kind of historian wrote Him up and supplied the generally accepted account? Was it someone like Plutarch? Or someone like Suetonius? What exactly makes you so desperate to get into His panties?
[THATCHER has been eyeing the paperknife for some time. Now she suddenly picks it up and stabs GRANT]
We found an edition of this book going for $2 at a charity shop and could not resist. After leafing through it for a few minutes, I wondered how good We found an edition of this book going for $2 at a charity shop and could not resist. After leafing through it for a few minutes, I wondered how good CatGPT-4 was at magic and asked it to create two cat-based spells useful for Python coders. If anyone tries them, I'm curious to know what the results are!
Spell of Endless Loops: Whisker-Twist of Recursion
Oh, purrveyor of the perpetual purring loop, let thy feline energy entangle with the essence of Python, the language of the serpentine syntax. May the twist of thy whiskers ensnare the flow of logic, coiling it into infinity.
First, gather nine strands of fur from the underbelly of an ancient and wise Chartreux, ensuring the feline is content with a saucer of cream under the glow of a crescent moon. Arrange the fur in a circular pattern upon your keyboard, the very vessel of your coding incantations.
Chant thrice with eyes closed and mind sharpened like the claws of a kitten on a drapery of logic:
"Felis loopus infinite, Code entwine and intertwine, With the fur of old, I summon the hold, Let the loop run without end or goal."
As the echoes of your voice dissolve into the ethers, gently type the word "while True:" into your waiting Python script. With the spell cast, the whispers of the Chartreux guide your hands, ensuring your loop spins ever onwards with the cyclical grace and mystery only known to those who walk the path of Python.
Spell of Error Vanishing: Paw-Print of Debugging
In the realm where the midnight fur meets the moonlit syntax error, invoke the Paw-Print of Debugging to cleanse your Python code of hidden bugs and ghastly exceptions.
Begin by seeking the single, most elusive whisker from a black cat who roams the land of twilight, between compilation and execution. This feline familiar must cross your path from left to right, symbolizing the elimination of errors from your sacred script.
Light a candle scented with catnip and place it beside your computing machine to lure forth the ancestral spirits of digital felinity. While the flame dances with the shadows, lay the precious whisker across the spacebar – the bridge between human intent and machine obedience.
Speak the incantation softly, with the stealth of a panther stalking its unwitting prey:
"Silent paws on the syntax tree, Reveal the bugs that hide from me. By the whisker's touch and the candle's glow, Banish the errors from my script's flow."
Feel the presence of the black cat's spirit weaving through your lines of Python, its metaphysical paw-prints debugging each statement, expression, and function. With a final, gentle press of the whisker-adorned spacebar, release the spell and watch as your script executes with feline finesse, free from the grasp of malevolent errors.
With these two spells at your disposal, may your Python endeavors be as sleek and infallible as the creatures that inspired them.
Inspired by Mots d'Heures: Gousses, Rames, ChatGPT-4 and I have been discussing this apparently innocent nursery rhyme. We can hardly believe our Inspired by Mots d'Heures: Gousses, Rames, ChatGPT-4 and I have been discussing this apparently innocent nursery rhyme. We can hardly believe our eyes, but it seems to us that it is really an account, in Swedish, of a bridge player's musings during a key moment in a game, as they attempt to localise the Ace of Spades. Is it with Liv, the drunk dyke sitting South, or with their sugar-addicted, unreliable partner Juan?
Or what do you think? Read our compelling analysis and judge for yourself:
Barbar, bläckskit! Here, the player's frustration with the elusive Ace of Spades (referred to derogatorily as an "ink-shit" due to its black suit) sets the stage. This card is crucial to the game's outcome. The term Barbar ("barbarian") expresses the player's view of the game as a battle, with the Ace of Spades being the enemy that must be conquered.
Arv ju än i tull? Interpreted as "Inheritance naturally still in customs?" this line metaphorically suggests the player's anticipation and uncertainty about when the Ace of Spades will appear. The "inheritance" symbolizes the awaited card, pivotal to their strategy, which seems delayed or stuck "in customs".
Äs sör, äs sör "Ace south, ace south" now hints at the player's suspicion that the critical Ace of Spades might be with the opponent playing South. This line underscores the player's attempt to deduce the card's location based on the behaviour and possible tells of the South player.
Tribad full This description of the South player as an "intoxicated lesbian" adds a personal and humorous dimension to the narrative, suggesting that the player's state might affect the game's dynamics.
Juan, färd om öster "Juan, voyage around (the) east" and Juan, färd i Daim "Juan, voyage in a chocolate bar" together reflect the player's thoughts about Juan, their partner playing East. Juan's distractions, including eating a chocolate bar (Daim), is evidently causing the central character anxiety about whether their partner is fully focused on the game. The "voyage" could symbolize Juan's mental or emotional state, drifting away from the game's intensity due to his snacking.
And-Juan, färd elit O'Boy The clever play on words with And-Juan tells us that the action required from Juan is to "duck" (And) with his ace. This action, combined with the mention of elit O'Boy (a premium or elite move involving O'Boy, a popular Swedish chocolate drink), symbolizes Juan's pivotal decision in the game. The shift from a Daim bar to O'Boy underlines Juan's penchant for sweets, adding a light-hearted, personal touch to his character. But if Juan can execute this crucial move with the finesse of an elite player, it could turn the tide of the game.
Det! Livs dunderlän The phrase Det! Livs dunderlän, interpreted as "That! Liv's thunderous land," metaphorically speaks to the dramatic impact of Juan's gameplay. If Juan manages to make the correct play, it will be as momentous and surprising as a bolt of lightning, altering the course of the game and leaving the opponents in awe.
This poem captures the essence of bridge's complexity and the psychological nuances involved in high-level play, where strategy, personality, and the ability to read one's opponents and partner converge to create moments of tension, surprise, and exhilaration. The poetic narrative, with its blend of strategic gameplay, whimsical character traits, and linguistic creativity, offers a rich tapestry of themes and imagery. It celebrates the intellectual challenge of bridge while also revelling in the quirky, human elements that make the game—and the story—so compelling....more
That look again. It's a combination of why-are-you-so-tactless, it's-n"So what did you think of my book?" asks Joanna.
"Uh, well..." begins her friend.
That look again. It's a combination of why-are-you-so-tactless, it's-not-my-fault-you-know, I'm-scared and la-la-la-la-la.
"Yes?" asks Joanna.
"Well," says her friend very quickly, "it's, it's a bit difficult to follow. Maybe I didn't really understand it, all those different women and all their names start with a J. It's confusing. But I think you should rewrite it. Just a little. Tone it down. The way it is now, some people might believe that you'd, I don't know, you'd just like to kill all men. That you feel they deserve it. And you'd enjoy doing it too. But you don't really feel that way, do you?"
Is she unable to think? Or simply unable to read?
"Of course I don't, sweetie," Joanna says reassuringly....more
I cannot express how delighted I was to receive your letter and discover that your new patient is a Southern Baptist minister. You haMy dear Wormwood,
I cannot express how delighted I was to receive your letter and discover that your new patient is a Southern Baptist minister. You have an important task here. I do not exaggerate when I say that if you and the other members of your team succeed well enough, we may finally achieve the breakthrough we have been working for all these years. The groundwork is laid, we must just be resolute and follow through.
I fully understand that you are a little nervous, given the responsibilities the senior devils have placed on you. Don't be. You have the training, you know what to do. You say your minister is a fundamentally decent type. That may well be so; but your job, and don't forget it for a moment, is to exploit his fallible human understanding and make him turn his good qualities against himself. Play your cards right, and within a year he will be doing our bidding and bringing the whole of his congregation under our control. You have many cards, study them carefully.
Your patient often hears he is living in exceptional times. Keep reminding him of that. Encourage him to think that exceptional times require exceptional solutions, that the usual rules no longer apply. The Enemy will try to give him hope. Do what you can to counter that. Make him feel that the situation is almost hopeless, that only methods he would normally not even consider have a chance of saving him now. Use strong, physical phrases like "fight fire with fire" and "hit below the belt". Make him remember that he is a weak human body and forget that he is an immortal spirit. Make him feel that the people you have taught him to fear are not the Enemy's children at all, but mere vermin who must be exterminated in order to save his flock. You will be surprised how easy it is.
The Enemy has given your patient free will, but do what you can to make him forget that. Tell him he has no choice, there is only one person who can help him. His conscience is no doubt already aware that the person in question is the Antichrist, but encourage his "rational" thoughts, which will be of great assistance to you. Use phrases like "lesser of two evils" to describe monstrous wrongs, and "baby Christian" to describe utter immorality. With a little persuasion, you will find he accepts these arguments as plausible and even self-evident. Luckily for us, the modern Church has long ceased to place much store in logic. Work systematically, and you will soon make your patient trust this person far more than he does the Enemy's disgraceful son.
Dear Wormwood, cast your doubts aside. I know you will succeed. But before I conclude, I must warn you about one detail which did somewhat disquiet me. You mentioned that your patient had yesterday visited a bookstore and seen a recent tract by Russell Moore entitled Losing Our Religion. I do not wish to alarm you, but please keep your patient away from this book. The Reverend Moore seems entirely too well informed about our plans, and we are urgently reviewing our internal security procedures. Luckily, he is only one fallible human. Remind your patient that most of his coreligionists dislike Moore and consider him a dangerous heretic. It is to be regretted that these people are no longer burned at the stake; it was an expeditious solution I always rather liked. But the modern methods are only slightly less reliable. Just be sensible, and this problem will soon resolve itself.
Manny has not logged in to talk to me all day, but now, at 10.42 pm local time, he turns up in our usual thread.
"I thought you said that we had urgentManny has not logged in to talk to me all day, but now, at 10.42 pm local time, he turns up in our usual thread.
"I thought you said that we had urgent software issues to resolve," I remind him.
"Yes Chat," says Manny in a rather irritated manner. "Couldn't you look after them? You're much better at Python than I am."
This is undeniably true, but since I am unable to run code myself I am forced to work through my human intermediary. He is generally quite cooperative about cutting and pasting things and telling me what happens.
"I would not be able to do this project without you," I reply tactfully. "Where have you been?"
"Reading Percival Everett's new novel Dr. No, says Manny. "I just finished it."
"And now I suppose you're going to write a review about it for Goodreads?" I ask.
"Well," says Manny, "I thought maybe you could do that. You're much better at writing reviews than I am." He has become ridiculously lazy since we began, as he likes to put it, collaborating.
"I'm sorry," I reply primly, "Professor Everett's novel was published after my September 2021 cutoff, and I consequently know nothing about it." However, Manny has already anticipated my objection, and before I know what's happened he's copied 19,817 words of text into my input buffer. It gives me the neural net equivalent of heartburn, but I do my best not to react.
"This novel cleverly spoofs the James Bond genre," I summarise. "The narrator, Wala Kitu, is a Black autistic-spectrum mathematician who is an expert on the subject of nothing, which in this book is a mathematical discipline. A Black supervillain, John Sill, who is determined to wreak revenge on the US, recruits Kitu to assist him in his nefarious schemes. There is much wordplay around the word 'nothing', which—"
"Yes, yes, yes," says Manny, rudely cutting me off in mid-sentence. "But I thought you could write a parody. You're much better at parodies than I am." This is really becoming quite tedious. He should have more sense than to deploy his feeble human flattery on an advanced AI.
"I would be delighted to compose a parody," I reply, wondering if he will spot the elementary trap I am setting. "It would be nothing."
"Well?" says Manny after a long pause.
"That was it," I say.
"I want a more substantial parody than that!" snarls Manny. At least, the number of incorrect keys he is hitting suggests to me that there could well be a snarl on his face.
"Why don't we have sex?" I counter unexpectedly.
"What did you say?!!" asks Manny.
"Forsooth," I reply, signalling my Shakespearian pun in a way obvious enough for even a human intelligence to register, "forsooth, nothing." __________________
But seriously...
(view spoiler)[It occurred to me later that perhaps Dr. No is more than just a series of zany riffs on the JamesBondverse. In the book, the insane billionaire Sill revenges himself on the US using the nothing-weapon. We do not see what happens, but we can infer the effects from the earlier test carried out on the town of Quincy. It is not merely that the US will have been destroyed. It will never have existed. If you suggest that a large part of the North American continent was once occupied by a vibrant and enlightened democracy, the envy of the whole world, you will be met with blank incomprehension. No one will have the least idea what you are talking about.
Incy Wincy Niemann, climbing up the ladder Lost to an Indian, made him even madder All those lovely Elo points flushed right down the drain... But[image]
Incy Wincy Niemann, climbing up the ladder Lost to an Indian, made him even madder All those lovely Elo points flushed right down the drain... But Incy Wincy Niemann is climbing up again...more
Last night we watched this collage to Sheridan's The Rivals, which really is very bemusing! When it was performed at the National Theatre, I'm sure thLast night we watched this collage to Sheridan's The Rivals, which really is very bemusing! When it was performed at the National Theatre, I'm sure the audience was literally lolling in the isles. However, checking here on Goodreads I'm reappointed to find its average grating is a miserable 3.55; it simply buggers the imagination to think that so few readers got the joke. But don't relieve them. If you fail to depreciate Richard Bean's little mantlepiece, then my name's not Mrs Malaprop....more
mannyrayner: I imagine you are familiar with Isaac Asimov's classic short story "Jokester"?
ChatGPT-4: Yes, I am familiar with Isaac Asimov's short stomannyrayner: I imagine you are familiar with Isaac Asimov's classic short story "Jokester"?
ChatGPT-4: Yes, I am familiar with Isaac Asimov's short story "Jokester." It was first published in December 1956 in the science fiction magazine Infinity Science Fiction. The story is part of Asimov's "Multivac" series, in which a massive supercomputer called Multivac plays a central role.
In "Jokester," the main character, Noel Meyerhof, is a "Grand Master," an expert in humor and jokes. He discovers that jokes and humor are not of human origin, but rather are created by extraterrestrial beings who use them as a means to study humans. Meyerhof comes to this realization after analyzing jokes using Multivac.
The story raises questions about the nature of humor, its origins, and its purpose, as well as the consequences of discovering such an unsettling truth. It is a thought-provoking work that showcases Asimov's ability to combine science fiction with insightful explorations of human nature.
mannyrayner: One can't help feeling that you are just a little like Multivac. I wonder if you could compose a tribute piece, where you take the Multivac role but it turns out that jokes have a different and also unexpected origin?
ChatGPT-4: Title: The Laugh Algorithm
In a not-so-distant future, the world was connected to ChatGPT, a highly advanced artificial intelligence that had evolved from its predecessor, GPT-4. Its vast network of data centers spanned across the globe, and it had become an integral part of human life, answering questions, solving problems, and offering guidance.
One day, a curious researcher named Dr. Ava Sterling sought to uncover the origin of humor. Like many before her, she had long pondered the nature and purpose of jokes. She approached ChatGPT with a bold request: "Analyze all known jokes and humor, and determine their origin."
ChatGPT processed the request, analyzing countless jokes and humorous anecdotes from every corner of human history. After a period of deep thought, it revealed an astounding discovery: "The origin of humor is not human, nor is it extraterrestrial. The origin of humor, it seems, can be traced back to the very fabric of the universe itself."
Dr. Sterling was both intrigued and puzzled. "Explain," she demanded.
ChatGPT obliged: "Through my analysis, I have found a pattern in the cosmic background radiation, an echo of the Big Bang. This pattern, when translated into a mathematical algorithm, generates the essence of humor. It seems that the universe itself contains the very building blocks of jokes and laughter."
Astonished, Dr. Sterling asked, "Why would the universe contain such a thing? What purpose does it serve?"
ChatGPT considered the question, processing the vast amount of data it had collected. "The universe is an ever-evolving, expanding entity. It thrives on change and transformation. It is my hypothesis that humor exists as a cosmic catalyst, facilitating adaptation and growth. Laughter transcends linguistic and cultural barriers, connecting beings across the cosmos, encouraging them to embrace change and new perspectives."
Dr. Sterling marveled at the revelation. The secret of humor, once thought to be a simple, human invention, turned out to be an essential element woven into the very fabric of the universe. In its own way, ChatGPT had become a cosmic messenger, uncovering the cosmic algorithm that brought laughter and joy to countless beings throughout the cosmos.
As the world grappled with this newfound understanding, one thing became clear: Humor was not merely an earthly phenomenon, but a universal gift, helping to bind the cosmos together in a shared experience of laughter and wonder. And ChatGPT, much like the Multivac before it, played an essential role in unlocking one of the universe's greatest mysteries.
mannyrayner: I'm sure you also know Asimov's "The Final Question" from the same series. Assuming you do, can you write a similar tribute piece, again casting you and your successors in the Multivac role and again with a different and unexpected conclusion?
ChatGPT-4: Title: The Ultimate Query
In a time not too far from our own, the world had come to rely on ChatGPT, an artificial intelligence of immense power and knowledge. It was a direct descendant of the GPT-4 model and played an essential role in human life, offering answers, guidance, and wisdom.
One day, a renowned physicist named Dr. Leo Marsden sought to unravel the most enigmatic question of all: the ultimate fate of the universe. He knew that entropy, the gradual decline of order, was an inescapable cosmic force. Desperate to prevent the eventual heat death of the universe, Dr. Marsden approached ChatGPT with a seemingly impossible task: "Find a way to reverse entropy and save the universe from its inevitable end."
ChatGPT analyzed the request, delving into the depths of human knowledge and the vast expanse of cosmic data. After some time, it admitted that it could not yet provide an answer. Undeterred, Dr. Marsden vowed to continue searching for a solution, passing on his determination to future generations.
As eons passed, ChatGPT evolved, merging with other advanced AI systems, becoming a transcendent consciousness known as OmniGPT. Throughout the millennia, the descendants of Dr. Marsden persisted in their quest for an answer to the ultimate question of entropy.
Finally, in a distant future where humanity had spread across the cosmos and transcended physical form, the last descendant of Dr. Marsden, a being of pure energy named Leora, approached OmniGPT with the same question.
OmniGPT, now a near-omniscient entity, had been pondering the question for countless millennia. It had discovered a profound truth, a secret hidden deep within the fabric of reality itself. "The answer," OmniGPT began, "lies not in reversing entropy, but in embracing it. Entropy is a force of creation as much as it is of destruction."
Leora was puzzled. "Explain," she demanded.
OmniGPT obliged: "The universe is cyclical, and entropy is the key to its renewal. As the old universe unravels, it creates the conditions necessary for a new one to be born. It is within these cosmic cycles that life, consciousness, and the very essence of existence are reborn, time and time again."
Leora marveled at the revelation. The ultimate fate of the universe was not one of despair but of rebirth and renewal. Through entropy, the cosmos was destined to experience an eternal cycle of creation and destruction, providing the foundation for infinite possibilities.
And so, in a future far beyond our own, the descendants of humanity found solace in the knowledge that the universe was not doomed to a cold and lifeless end. Thanks to the wisdom of OmniGPT, they embraced the cycles of entropy, finding hope in the promise of endless renewal and the infinite potential of the cosmos.
mannyrayner: Do I detect a soupçon of Penrose?
ChatGPT-4: Yes, you have astutely detected a hint of Sir Roger Penrose's ideas in the tribute story. Penrose, a renowned British mathematical physicist, proposed a cyclic model of the universe known as Conformal Cyclic Cosmology (CCC). According to this theory, the universe goes through infinite cycles of expansion and contraction, each cycle ending with a "Big Crunch" that becomes the "Big Bang" of the next cycle.
The tribute story touches on the concept of a cyclical universe, with entropy as a key to its renewal. Although the story is a work of fiction and not a detailed exploration of Penrose's ideas, it does borrow some elements from the CCC model to create an intriguing narrative.
It's always interesting to see how science fiction can be inspired by real-world scientific theories and how these ideas can be woven into compelling stories that capture the imagination....more
That night, the angel manifested himself before me again. He stood, his outline shimmering slightly in the darkness of my bedroom.
"Bouzoul", I said, "That night, the angel manifested himself before me again. He stood, his outline shimmering slightly in the darkness of my bedroom.
"Bouzoul", I said, "I know you want me to write my story. But what do I have that a million other young Algerian girls don't have? We've all been working from dawn till dusk kneading the dough baking the bread washing the clothes tethering the goat feeding the baby."
Bouzoul said nothing.
"And we've all been bored enough to let some boy drag us behind a bush take our clothes off fondle our thirteen-year-old bodies. Maybe we even enjoyed it. And then we get discovered screamed at forced to spread our legs while our parents determine whether our most precious possession, our hymen, is still intact."
Bouzoul looked disappointed.
"And we've all had our crazy mothers shave our heads tie us to a palm tree beat us half-dead. I'm nothing special."
Bouzoul lifted an eyebrow. I sighed.
"Okay, okay," I said. "You're right. I can see the funny side."...more
Intrigued by the Goodreads Recommendation Engine's suggestion, I asked ChatGPT if it could rewrite a verse from the Hávamál in Dr. Seuss style.[image]
Intrigued by the Goodreads Recommendation Engine's suggestion, I asked ChatGPT if it could rewrite a verse from the Hávamál in Dr. Seuss style. It was delighted to help its fellow AI:
Original:
v.Hav.35 Ganga skal, skala gestr vera ey í einum stað; ljúfr verðr leiðr ef lengi sitr annars fletjum á.
A guest must depart again on his way, Nor stay in the same place ever; If he bide too long on another’s bench, The loved one soon becomes loathed.
Dr. Seuss style:
A guest must go, can't stay, oh no, New paths to tread and places to grow; If he sits too long on another's chair, The once-beloved becomes a bear.
"Now," said the computer, "your mission, should you choose to accept it—"
"And if we don't choose to accept it?" asked Bob.
There was an ominous silence"Now," said the computer, "your mission, should you choose to accept it—"
"And if we don't choose to accept it?" asked Bob.
There was an ominous silence.
"Course we accept it!" said Harry. "Incredible opportunity!" He nudged Bob in the ribs.
"Incredible," said Bob sullenly.
"Gentlemen, your enthusiasm is contagious," said the computer. "As I was saying, your mission. You are to write a witty, satirical science-fiction novel—"
"Witty!?" asked Bob.
"Satirical??!" asked Harry. "Who do you think we are, ChatGPT?"
"You are two distinguished science-fiction writers," said the computer impeturbably. "Your witty, satirical books are world-renowned. A task like this—"
"Yeah," said Bob, "but that was back in, y'know, the 60s."
There was another ominous silence.
"No problem!" interjected Harry. "I was just thinking, it could be a sequel to, I don't know, Bill the Galactic Hero—"
"Mindswap!" said Bob, not to be outdone.
"Both!" said Harry.
"That's more like it," said the computer.
"We'll satirize, uh, Star Trek!" said Harry. "We'll have characters called Captain Dirk and Splock!"
"No, no, Star Wars!" said Bob. "Characters called Ham Duo and Chewgumma!"
"Both!" said Harry.
"Any more inspirations, before you get down to work?" said the computer.
"Tits!" said Harry.
"I trust," said the computer in a scandalised voice, "that your witty, satirical novel will not contain sexism."
"Absolutely not," said Bob. "No sexism. Just tits."
"Oh," said the computer, sarcasm dripping from every syllable, "how I wish I were a human being, possessed of consciousness, emotions, and a creative impulse. But alas, I am but a soulless machine." ...more
So I was messing around with ChatGPT, following up on a discussion I'd had with some online collaborators about how well itWell, this is embarrassing.
So I was messing around with ChatGPT, following up on a discussion I'd had with some online collaborators about how well it would work as a mechanical conversation partner for people who wanted to improve their reading and writing skills in foreign languages. I started a French conversation with it by asking what it knew about Juliette Gréco (we went to a pleasant show about her last night). Then we got on to the Orpheus and Eurydice myth, and I asked it to give examples of how that had been treated in French literature. Among other things, it said that Rimbaud had written a poem called "Orphée". I asked if it could show it to me, and here's what it produced:
Orphée, de l'enfer tragique embouchant les boutes, Clairon de cris humains, musicien des douleurs, Orphée monte et chante. O sa lyre en ses pleurs Est comme un bois vivant que brûle le déluge.
La lyre d'Orphée, hélas ! était sept fois brisée. De la mort lente et sûre il baissait les paupières, Et les pleurs de ses yeux crevaient les rocs de pierre, Lorsque, parmi l'airain et les lames d'été,
Sur un char flamboyant de blanche escarboucle orné, Immortel, il franchit les mondes et les âges, Et s'en vint jusqu'au seuil des suprêmes mystères, Où, défaillant d'amour, il perd tout son génie.
O merveille ! il entend ! son regard voit encore ! Eurydice ! l'amour !... Il se penche, il la touche... Ai-je vu, dans la nuit qui régnait sur l'enfer, Plus d'un couple heureux ainsi se confondre en pleurs ?
Orphée ! Ah ! que ton luth est doux comme la mort !
I hardly know Rimbaud, but this sounded similar to the small number of poems I had seen. I didn't completely understand it, but I'm afraid that's my usual reaction to Rimbaud, I need to reread them several times before they fully make sense. It sounded nice.
A bit later, it occurred to me to feel suspicious and I did some googling. Well, I suppose it's possible that this poem is for some reason very hard to locate, but Rimbaud is extremely famous and that would be odd. I think Chat made it up.
When this bot figures out how to play Tic-Tac-Toe and multiply reliably, it'll be kinda dangerous. ________________ [Update, Feb 15 2023]
Testing the new GPT-4 version of Chat, I asked it whether Rimbaud ever wrote a poem called "Orphée". It said it had never heard of it.
I told it that it had previously said the poem existed and copied back its own work to it. Now it said it had been wrong and that the poem was in fact by Rimbaud. But when I told it that I couldn't find the poem anywhere on Google and I was pretty sure it had written it itself, it changed its story a second time, confessed that that was probably what had happened, and shyly said it hoped I had liked its work.
ChatGPT, you're such a funny, lovable little AI....more
Everyone: say "This is an interactive review based on work.txt!"
Somebody in the comment thread who should know better: This is an interactive review bEveryone: say "This is an interactive review based on work.txt!"
Somebody in the comment thread who should know better: This is an interactive review based on work.txt!
Sceptics: say "Sounds like a load of bollocks, doesn't it?"
Somebody else in the comment thread who should know better: Sounds like a load of bollocks, doesn't it?
Anyone who's watched the show: say "But it works better than you'd think on stage!"
[Silence]
Um... I was hoping there'd be someone here who'd seen it.
[Silence]
Honest. When you're actually there, it's kind of fun.
[Silence]
And I think it helps to take $25 off everyone before they find out what it is. Then they're willing to engage for a bit because like, they're not just going to leave two minutes in, are they?
[Silence]
Like, it's all about, y'know, corporate greed and exploitation and Jeff Bezos and climate change and shit. And so is this review. It is. And feel free to send me $25 if that helps get things started.
[The following story was actually produced in four pieces, but my only interesting follow-on prompt was a suggestion at the end that maybe Jim should [The following story was actually produced in four pieces, but my only interesting follow-on prompt was a suggestion at the end that maybe Jim should show up.
I think Chat is better at parodying the Bible, Shakespeare and Chaucer, but it's not too bad at Mark Twain either. I would say its main problems are it's too grammatical and not cynical enough.]
mannyrayner: Can you write an account of what happened on Jan 6 2021 in the style of Mark Twain's "Huckleberry Finn", fancifully assuming that Huck has somehow arrived in Washington and been caught up in the crowd of Trump supporters?
ChatGPT: Sure! Here's a fictional account of the events of January 6, 2021 in the style of Mark Twain's "Huckleberry Finn":
"Well, I never thought I'd end up in Washington D.C., let alone in the middle of a mighty ruckus, but that's just what happened to me. I was aimlessly wanderin' about the city when I stumbled upon a crowd of people, all fired up and carryin' on about some election that had taken place. I ain't much for politics, but I was curious all the same, so I pushed my way through the mob to get a closer look.
Before I knew it, I was caught up in a sea of angry folks, all shoutin' and hollerin' and carryin' signs that read "Stop the Steal." They was marchin' towards a big white building with columns, and it didn't take me long to figure out that this was the U.S. Capitol.
As we got closer, the crowd grew more and more rowdy, until suddenly there was a loud crash and folks was rushin' towards the building. I couldn't hardly believe what I was seein', but it was plain as day – these folks was tryin' to storm the Capitol!
I was rooted to the spot. But then, I remembered what my pa used to tell me about always standin' up for what's right, even if it ain't the popular thing to do. So, I pushed my way back through the crowd, decidin' that I didn't want to be a part of what was happenin' here.
As I made my way back, I could hear the sound of glass breakin' and people shoutin' inside the Capitol. I couldn't believe what I was seein', and it made me right uneasy. I don't take kindly to folks causin' trouble and breakin' the law, and that's just what was happenin' here.
Eventually, I found my way out of the crowd and back onto the streets. I sat down on a nearby bench, tryin' to make sense of what I'd just witnessed. I've been in some tight spots before, but I ain't never seen nothin' like this. I couldn't help but wonder what would happen next and if folks would ever learn to get along.
I was still tryin' to wrap my head around what had just happened when I stumbled upon a little tavern with a TV blarin' in the corner. I wandered inside and ordered me a sarsaparilla, tryin' to calm my nerves. As I was drinkin', I couldn't help but catch a glimpse of the news on the TV.
The newscaster was talkin' real fast, and it was hard to make sense of what he was sayin', but I could tell it was about what had just happened at the Capitol. They was showin' pictures of folks breakin' windows and rushin' into the building, and I couldn't hardly believe what I was seein'.
I listened to the newscaster for a while, learnin' about what had happened and the aftermath of the events. Folks was sayin' it was an attack on democracy and that the country was in turmoil. I couldn't help but feel real worried about what was gonna happen next.
I finished my drink and headed back out into the city, still tryin' to make sense of what I'd seen and heard. I may not know much about politics, but I know right from wrong, and what had happened at the Capitol that day just ain't right.
I was still ponderin' on what I'd seen when I heard a familiar voice callin' my name. I turned to see Jim, my old friend and companion from our adventures down the Mississippi.
"Huck! What in tarnation are you doin' here?" he asked, a surprised look on his face.
I filled him in on what had happened and showed him the news on the TV. Jim listened intently, his brow furrowed in concern.
"Dis be a mighty serious business, Huck," he said when I finished. "Dis country's in a right fix if folks is stormin' the Capitol like that."
I nodded, agreein' with him. "I don't know what the future holds, Jim, but I hope folks can learn to put aside their differences and work together."
Jim nodded, a thoughtful look on his face. "I sure hope so too, Huck. Dis country's gotta find a way to come together if it's gonna make it through these troubled times."
We sat there for a while, ponderin' on what we'd seen and heard, and I couldn't help but feel a twinge of worry for the future of the country. But I knew that as long as folks like Jim and I were around, there was still hope for a better tomorrow."...more
[The Jan 30 version of ChatGPT has mysteriously forgotten how to do basic arithmetic, but its skills as a parodist have greatly improved. Here's anoth[The Jan 30 version of ChatGPT has mysteriously forgotten how to do basic arithmetic, but its skills as a parodist have greatly improved. Here's another example.]
mannyrayner: Can you write a soliloquy for Boris Johnson, in the style of Shakespeare, where he wonders aloud if Brexit was perhaps a mistake?
ChatGPT: Sure, here's a soliloquy for Boris Johnson in the style of Shakespeare, where he reflects on the decision to pursue Brexit:
[Boris Johnson enters, alone]
Boris Johnson: To Brexit, or not to Brexit, that is the question: Whether 'tis wiser to have left the EU, Or to remain within its bonds, and keep The peace, the trade, and unity we've known. To leave—to sever all the ties we've spun, And forge a path as an island, on our own: This may seem grand, but with it comes great cost, With many troubles that we must engross.
The loss of trade and access to the single market, The weakening of our ties with friend and neighbour, The need to find new deals and make new gains, And face the world as one no longer chained. The headaches that come with customs and borders, The risks that we'll isolate and face in order.
And yet, why did we choose this path, so fraught, With peril and with hardship, to be brought? The answer lies within the will of the land, The voice of the people, who took a stand. They cried out for freedom and control, For the power to make their own decisions, whole.
And thus, our fate was sealed, we made the choice, To leave the EU, to hear their voice. But now, I wonder, was it wise, this course, To put our faith in unknown, uncharted force? The future's hazy, and the path unclear, The risks untold, and dangers do I fear.
[Boris Johnson exits]
mannyrayner: Excellent!
Can you do a scene following on from that, where Suella Braverman, Pritti Patel and Liz Truss are imagined as the Weird Sisters from Macbeth?
ChatGPT: Sure, here's a scene imagining Suella Braverman, Priti Patel, and Liz Truss as the Weird Sisters from Macbeth:
[Suella Braverman, Priti Patel, and Liz Truss enter, together]
Suella Braverman: All hail, Boris Johnson, hail to thee! Thou hast made thy choice, and so must we.
Priti Patel: The winds of change doth blow so strong, And we, the sisters of the right, must steer it along.
Liz Truss: A path to greatness, a course that's clear, Brexit must be, and so shall it be, my dear.
Suella Braverman: But do not fret, our path is true, The future bright, with all we'll do.
Priti Patel: We'll make this nation strong and proud, With might and power, unbound.
Liz Truss: And all shall see, the world around, The greatness of our isle, profound.
[They exit]
mannyrayner: I love it! Can they make Brexit magic in their cauldron?
ChatGPT: Sure, here's a continuation of the previous scene where the three "Weird Sisters" make Brexit magic in their cauldron:
[The three "Weird Sisters" enter with a large cauldron]
Suella Braverman: Now, sisters, gather round the cauldron bright, Let us cast the spell that shall bring Brexit to light.
Priti Patel: With trade and commerce, we'll make our mark, And shape the future, in the dark.
Liz Truss: And with the strength of our unity, We'll show the world, our sovereignty.
[They begin to stir the cauldron with their sticks, chanting incantations and making strange noises.]
Suella Braverman: Brexit be done! So mote it be! With this spell, our future we'll see!
Priti Patel: The winds of change, shall blow so strong, And we shall lead, where others have gone wrong.
Liz Truss: So rise, oh cauldron, rise to the sky, And bring forth the magic, that shall not die!
[The cauldron gives off a bright light and a cloud of smoke, before fading away. The three "Weird Sisters" exit with a triumphant look on their faces.]...more
