The Blog I'm Not Writing

Department Of Backfiring Techniques

Text message on moiself’s  cellphone, from an unidentified number:

“To all ______(political candidate) supporters,
please do not click away from this important message….”

Congratulations, sender. You have just guaranteed that moiself  will “click away.”

 

 

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Department Of One More Disturbing Consideration (About AI)
In An Otherwise Enjoyable Exchange Between Two Interesting People

“Stephen Dubner, host of Freakonomics Radio, has long been fascinated by the physicist Richard Feynman. As has Alan. Stephen has devoted a year to making a remarkable podcast series on Feynman, and Alan has played Feynman on the stage for a year. They compare notes on what they’ve come to learn about him.”

This is the intro to Freakonomics podcast host Stephen Dubner’s guest appearance on Clear + Vivid most recent episode, Feynman On Our Mind.  In their wide-ranging conversation about any and all things Feynman, Dubner and C+V host Alda talked about AI and our relationships, and Dubner posed a question about how, if AI obtains sentience, might we, in some ways, regress to the time humans did not understand their universe and left it to religion and religious authorities to explain the world to them?   [1]  

 

 

Alda and Dubner miss  the late great Feynman’s curiosity about *everything,* and his ability to identify and weigh complex problems – on all subjects, not just physics. They wished they could have his commentary on how the advances in technology affect humankind, as it seemd to lead to fewer people understanding how our physical world works, and thus we defer understanding to…well, to whom?  It used to be to the religious authorities, then to “the experts,” and now it’s to machines; i.e., computers.

Dubner:
“…I think one of the most interesting arguments about AI and what’s going to happen – how we will integrate with AI…is that if AI really becomes sentient and omnipresent in a way that it’s just beginning to gain a foothold, might we humans revert to something like the pre-Enlightenment, where religious thinking dominated, where when rather than thinking for yourself about natural processes and decision making and so on, you kind of defer.

In the old days, many many many people deferred to some kind of deity; is it possible that in the near term, people will defer to a different kind of supernatural intelligence in the form of AI, and therefore, stop thinking so much for ourselves?

And if that’s the case, what are we humans going to do?  Are we going to take what we do well and do that even better, or are we gonna kinda give up and let ourselves turn into…  We can be – the way we treat our dogs, now in wealthy societies, we often care about them more than we care about  our fellow humans.  It wasn’t like that a couple of hundred years ago – dogs were work animals.  So, are we bound to become the pets of the AI, or do we have something to contribute?

I think these are the big fundamental questions that we’re all wrestling with…. Feynman would have been a phenomenal person to think about that…to sort the wheat from the chaff, the BS from the reality, and sort the pompous, self-aggrandizing behavior from the intelligent behavior….  So yeah, even though I never knew him, I miss him.”

 

 

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Department Of More Fun With The Same Podcast Episode

As moiself  has mentioned previously/just recently in this blog ( “The Pranks I’m Not Playing” 3-15-24 ), at the end of each episode of the Clear + Vivid blog, host Alan Alda asks his guests seven quick questions, all of which have some relation to the idea of communication. Here is how C+V guest Dubner answered the seventh question.

Alda:
“Suppose you’re sitting at a dinner table next to someone you’ve never met before.  How do you begin a genuine conversation?”

Dubner:
“I once made a podcast with a friend of mine…..and I asked him some version of that question, and he gave me an answer that I thought was not very good, and now I realize it was very very very good.  It’s a very simple question: ‘Where are you from?’ and that question is not just one little piece of factual, geographic location, it is an invitation to that person so say, tell me who you are.  Tell me the version of who you are that you want to tell me, and then we’ll take it from there. It’s just also as non-invasive as it gets…unless they were born in a Gulag in Siberia or whatnot….”

As I reflect on it, I think that question might be “better” than my strategies  [2]   (depending on the circumstances and the person with whom you are trying to converse). “Where Are You From?” can be deceptively reassuring/non-threatening, and thus draw out a reticent person.  That question leaves you free to interpret how far back you want to go: where (physical/geographic) you were born, or perhaps the locale you’ve chosen as an adult, or “from” in a metaphorical/intellectual sense, or some combination of whatever criteria fits your definition of your roots.

If I moiself  was asked, “So, where are you from?….

 

 

Dateline: decades ago, one weekend when I and my college boyfriend were visiting my parents in their new (to them) Santa Ana home.  I wanted to show BF where I was “from,” and we drove a mile or so from my parents’ new home to 1509 Martha Lane, the address which had been home for most of my childhood.   [3]  Except that there was (and is) no more 1509 Martha Lane.   The reason my parents were in a new home is because during my freshman year at UCD, Santa Ana college (SAC), the junior college that had been my family home’s expanded “back yard” playground, did what they had been threatening to do for years:  SAC enacted Eminent Domain.  [4]   They annexed our cul-de-sac street, and a few other nearby streets.  The homeowners were compensated and their houses auctioned off.   [5]   Martha Lane became a college parking lot.

The thing is, on the lot where our house once stood, SAC left standing two of our trees.  The towering pine in our backyard – from whose top branches my siblings and friends and I used to watch the Angel’s stadium halo light up – along with our apricot, lemon, plum, peach, and banana trees and pomegranate bushes were all gone, but still standing, surrounded by concrete, were our two Japanese elms – the one in the backyard and the one in the front yard.  Using those trees as a guideline, I traced out for my BF where my house had been.  “Look!” I said, estimating paces from the front elm to a spot between painted lines delineating several parking spaces, “this was my bedroom!”

As we got into BF’s car to head back to my parent’s house, I started to wax philosophical, about how *this* – I indicated the parking lot – might explain a lot of my mindset, or my outlook on life.  Understand my roots and the impact of my So Cal heritage:  “they paved paradise and put up a parking lot.”   Yep, they did, but I can still look at a parking lot and see an outline of my childhood….

BF didn’t find my waxings as profound as moiself  did.  His loss.  Take it away, Joni.

 

 

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Department Of Moderation In All Things

Just in case ya’ll may have been even momentarily concerned for my emotional stability when I relived the afore-mentioned existential crisis, two hours after reliving that  my-childhood-home-is-a-parking-lot incident, moiself  got tickets to a local movie theater and saw Godzilla x Kong.   

 

 

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Department Of Unanticipated Joys

As per both my personal experiences and observations of fellow homo sapiens: perhaps the most surprising thing about parenthood,  which moiself  did not anticipate, is the sheer/utter/simple delight of having an adult relationship with your children (that is, a relationship with them, as adults, when they are adults).

You will never have (nor want, I hope) a peer-like relationship with your offspring; regardless of their age, there will always be the parent-child dynamic.  But the privilege of seeing them grow into the kind of people you would choose to spend time with, even if you weren’t related?  Words like incomparable spring to mind.

Just sayin.’

 

 

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Department Of Sheer Unadulterated Joy

Another surprising source of bliss is watching that phenomenon which is Savannah Bananas Baseball.  Not that I’ve been able to do so in person – their home stadium is in Georgia, and their tickets are sold out even before their seasons begin.

If anything is stressing me out, I search the ‘net for some Bananas clips. Seriously, this is how baseball should be played and enjoyed.

 

 

Not that they don’t have rules:

RULE 1: WIN THE INNING, GET THE POINT
Every inning is worth one point. The team that gets the most runs in an inning, gets a point for that inning, except for the last inning, where every run counts.

RULE 2: TWO HOUR TIME LIMIT
You get the idea. No new inning can be started after 2 hours. In the last inning of the game, every run counts.

RULE 3: NO STEPPING OUT
If the hitter steps out of the box, it’s a strike.

RULE 4: NO BUNTING.
Bunting sucks. If a hitter bunts, they are ejected from the game.

RULE 5: BATTERS CAN STEAL FIRST
On any pitch of an at-bat, the hitter can try to steal first base. This can happen on a pass ball, wild pitch, or any time the hitter chooses.

RULE 6: NO WALKS ALLOWED
If a pitcher throws ball four, it becomes a sprint. The hitter will take off running while every defensive player on the field must touch the ball before it becomes live. The hitter can advance to as many bases as they want.

RULE 7: NO MOUND VISITS ALLOWED
Let’s keep the game moving. No mound visits from the coach, catcher, or any other player at any time. Hype your pitcher up from afar if needed.

RULE 8: IF A FAN CATCHES A FOUL BALL, IT’S AN OUT

( …and so on…  From Banana Ball Rules, bananaball.com )

For those of you unfortunates who’ve never heard of the Bananas, nor their unique, alternative “Banana Ball” format for baseball, some brief descriptions excerpted (my emphases) from their Wikipedia entry:

The Savannah Bananas are an exhibition barnstorming baseball team based in Savannah, Georgia…until  2022, the Bananas competed as a collegiate summer baseball team ….  However, after the growth of their alternate “Banana Ball” format, the team transitioned entirely to exhibition games against their partner touring teams… the team has been featured by ESPN, The Wall Street Journal, CNN 10, and Sports Illustrated because of its on-field hijinks and viral videos.

Yeah, they had me at hijinks.

On-field hijinks include dancing.  At the drop of a hat (or mitt…or bat….).

 

 

Some of the Bananas fans’ fave team dances from last year can be found here.

And as for team selection, not only do the players have to have genuine and even extraordinary talent (check out this footage of a “360 tornado catch” by a Banana outfielder),  but moiself  swears there must be a face and body…uh…selection during team tryouts process.  Because dem boys be hot.   [6]

The most exuberant dancer is one you’d guess – it’s the home plate umpire.  Dude doesn’t make it in the hot bod department, but he knows how to shake his baseball booty.

 

 

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Department of Employee Of The Month

 

 

It’s that time, to bestow that prestigious award upon moiself.  Again. The need for which I wrote about here.   [7] 

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Freethinkers’ Thought Of The Week     [8]

 

 

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Parting Shot:  I love it when/I hate it when…

I love it when you find the perfect spot for the duck feet.

 

 

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May you always feel free to click away from annoying texts;
May you enjoy present-day relationships with (yours or other people’s) now-adult kids;
May you have the time of your life at a Savannah Bananas game;
…and may the hijinks ensue.

Thanks for stopping by.  Au Vendredi!

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[1] Of course, the religious authorities’ “God did it” is a non-explanation, but their “God did it,” followed by, “so stop questioning things or else this all-knowing all-loving god will put you on the fast track to hell” was sufficient inspiration for keeping mouths – and minds – shut.

[2] Asking a question like,  What are you thinking about lately/ What occupies your thoughts these days?  What are you surprised by?  Tell me about the last time you were surprised/scared/overjoyed/disgusted?    Or, simply start out by finding a commonality, as with the dinner table scenario (“So, what’s your connection to [the host] – how did you meet?” )

[3] Save for two years in San Diego, where I started school (K and grade 1), when my father was temporarily transferred for his work.  We rented out the Santa Ana house and returned to it the summer before I entered grade 2.

[4] the right and power of a government or to annex private property for public use, with payment of compensation.

[5] To people who bought them at a greatly discounted price, and then paid to have them shipped to empty lots, etc.

[6] Hellyeah, I look.   I am decades happily married, but I’m not dead.

[7] Several years ago, MH received a particularly glowing performance review from his workplace. As happy as I was for him when he shared the news, it left me with a certain melancholy I couldn’t quite peg.  Until I did.

One of the many “things” about being a writer (or any occupation working freelance at/from home) is that although you avoid the petty bureaucratic policies, bungling bosses, mean girls’ and boys’ cliques, office politics and other irritations inherent in going to a workplace, you also lack the camaraderie and other social perks that come with being surrounded by your fellow homo sapiens.  No one praises me for fixing the paper jam in the copy machine, or thanks me for staying late and helping the new guy with a special project, or otherwise says, Good on you, sister. Once I realized the source of the left-out feelings, I came up with a small way to lighten them.

[8] “free-think-er n. A person who forms opinions about religion on the basis of reason, independently of tradition, authority, or established belief. Freethinkers include atheists, agnostics and rationalists.   No one can be a freethinker who demands conformity to a bible, creed, or messiah. To the freethinker, revelation and faith are invalid, and orthodoxy is no guarantee of truth.”  Definition courtesy of the Freedom From Religion Foundation, ffrf.org