Is artificial intelligence doing the attacking or is it preventing attacks?
My flight was delayed, so I had time to ponder this statement. Either way I read it, I found it unsettling.
The finer print below clarified that it was AI that could save the cyber world, which I suppose is a relief.
And isn’t the guy pictured a doppelganger for Jeff Goldblum?
Now for something truly unsettling…I was about to post this last night last night when my computer crashed. Coincidence???
I purchased several boxes of the above excuse-for-cookies. Disguised as decadent treats, they are outstanding only in their mediocrity.
But, they were on sale.
Oldest son was visiting and was overcome with an immediate need for something sweet. These quasi-treats were the best I could offer.
I was trying to convince my son that these were delicious and oh-so healthy. I was looking at the nutrition label when I noticed something odd.
Servings Per Container about 12.
I did a quick survey of my pantry to confirm that boxes with discrete pieces had exact serving sizes. In contrast, my boxes of cereal had approximations.
My son’s explanation was that if a box only contained 10 or 11 cookies, the company couldn’t be sued because they honestly indicated there were only “about 12” in the box.
Lazy quality control? No copy editors available to proof the info printed on the box?
Another one of life’s mysteries.
A friend and I went out to grab a bite last night. The waiter earnestly described one of the specials as: Grass fed beef burger topped with cheese and vegetarian chili on a homemade bun.
Good thing I’m an omnivore.
I have learned, through sad experience, that in a contest between my bladder and bronchitis, bronchitis inevitably wins.
While perusing a bulletin board of babies, I was struck by the lack of “classic” names. Not a Susan or Tommy in the bunch. Instead, I found the following:
But the one I felt the most sorry for was this little guy:
May he be blessed with a thick skin.
I decided to try some therapeutic coloring to foster tranquility at the end of a frenzied day. I chose this particular book among the hundreds available because of the inspirational messages adjacent to each coloring page.
My fledgling sense of inner peace was shot when I encountered the spelling error on the above page.
I cannot look at this without my blood pressure going up.
May I suggest that the editors of this publication practice being mindful of careful proof-reading and express gratitude for spell-check?
Ambling down the sidewalk of an unassuming strip mall, I encountered the above: a small goat wearing an orange tutu and an orange wig. Its pet, a man with a brown shoe, was on a leash. The gawkier, wearing purple shoes (who really had no business acting as the fashion police), took issue that the man was dressed inappropriately. His shoes were definitely last season.
Son and I went to see Hail Ceasar! the other night.
I appreciate being able to pick seats ahead of time. Not many tickets had been sold when I got online, so we reserved our favorite spot in the middle of the back row.
The theater seats about 150. By the time the previews were ending, only 14 seats were occupied.
The lights were dimming when in sauntered customers #15 and #16. They were carrying super-ultra-mega-sized drinks, ice cream bars, a 10 gallon bucket full of popcorn and a platter full of fried dough, masquerading as chicken nuggets.
And where did they choose to sit?
Right next to me.
Are you kidding me? Either side of us had empty seats all the way to the aisles. What kind of egregious disregard of personal space was this?
My son looked at me and then I looked at the woman. She was adjusting her rather corpulent frame into the seat while also trying to claim the armrest.
And then she gave me the stink-eye!
I matched her stink-eye as I got up and moved to the other side of my son.
The movie was loud enough to mostly mask the sounds of their chewing and slurping.
My usual method of dealing with this type of situation is to repeat Hanlon’s razor over and over to myself:
Never ascribe to malice that which can be adequately explained by stupidity.
I also try to practice gratitude, as in, “Thank heavens for Netflix.”
I ran out of podcasts so I did a bit of station surfing as I drove home. The radio’s search feature landed on a new station, where a velvet-voiced DJ was announcing, “Welcome to the new Sunny 103, where we have music to brighten your day.”
And here is what I listened to for the remainder of my drive:
“One is the Loneliest Number” by Three Dog Night
“Careless Whisper” by Wham!
“I’m all Out of Love” by Air Supply
“If You Leave Me Now” by Chicago
“Alone Again, Naturally” by Gilbert O’Sullivan
“All by Myself” by Eric Carmen
“Oh Girl” by The Chi-Lites
“Lost Without your Love” by Bread
Thanks, Mr. Velvet Voice and kudos to your inspired programming. I’m now depressed as hell.
absurd-vations 