I don't think it is me

 

I asked AI for a step-by-step procedure on how to perform a certain function.  In an instant the outline showed up on my screen.  Step by step it was spelled out. 

Here’s the thing.  No matter which AI I went to or how I phrased the request, the same thing always happened. 

Step one was directing me to someplace that didn’t exist.  Never could I get to step two. 

Is there ever a human that actually tries to follow these instructions, or is it just making assumptions, because it knows where to find it and what to do once it is there, that everyone does and it will all work out.

Understanding I’m not the sharpest tool in the shed, I still think something should accompany these procedures that shows they’ve been tested and actually work.  Possibly a little AI seal of approval, off in the corner someplace.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Unfair

 

I wouldn’t have a clue on how to deal with a mob mentality. 

 

I was friends with a person for many years.  Our families did things together and it was always fun.  Then one day the workers went on strike at our place of employment.  What I saw was shocking to me.  Suddenly, as if a switch had been flipped, she announced that because I was management and she was hourly we were enemies.  She was serious. 

        Our entire history had gone out the window.  All she would ever do was to spout the rhetoric printed on the strike posters.  Knowing full well that I was nothing even close to the image she was putting onto me.   I went from close friend to evil tyrant and all I had done was have Rice Krispies for breakfast.  I was the same, but suddenly she hated anything to do with the company, including me, her long-time friend.

        I have seen enough movies to know how easily a group of people can grow into an unthinking mob.  It’s scary to see how easily we can be manipulated.  

        At this age, I don’t think it is the knowledge to deal with that behavior that I lack, but the patience to tolerate the stupidity.

 

        I’m just saying…

 

            ZC

Oops

 

My pocket comb needed cleaning.  Thinking I would not only clean it but sterilize it as well, I dropped it into boiling water.  When you see the warnings – Don’t Try This at Home, it is me, at who those warning are aimed.  It didn’t occur to me that the thing would melt.  Now my head would need to be a completely different shape for this comb to function as intended. 

Looking at the chain reaction this faux pas started, I discovered nobody makes my favorite type of comb anymore.  What is now available is shorter and more expensive.  A costly lesson indeed.

I could possibly tape two of the shorter combs together, to achieve the desired length, but failing to have a connection that was 100% aligned, could mean the part in my hair might run from East to West instead of North to South, not to mention being twice as expensive. 

When in doubt as to how to solve a problem, I tend to seek those smarter than myself.

 

 

Of course that doesn't always work.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Life's Fingerprints

 

It isn’t a sidecar.  Not at all a fun adventure with wind and sharp turns and hanging on for dear life.  No, this is real.  It is a bump that formed and now has become a part of me.  I haven’t named it, even though I’ve grown used to it being here.  We tend to go everywhere together, this bump and I.

The Doctors seem jealous.  They all want to take it away, separate us from each other.  Is that cruel or what?

What would a pickle be without its bumps?  Or a log?  Have they no creativity?  Can they not see past the end of their own scalpel?  Where would mushrooms be without their stems and pieces?  Or olives without their pits?

It seems only right that I walk through this world gathering the thistles that cling to my socks, for is that not where they belong?  Just as the ship’s hull accumulates slime and the rutter seaweed, so does the Captain smell as the fish. 

It is all but impossible to pass through an arcade without hearing the sound of pocket change leaving small hands.  It is what Life is, lumps and all.

 

 

 

 ZC

 

 

 

and it is mismatched socks

 

Unlike a grave marker or a headstone, I leave behind a collection of conversations between myself and Copilot.  In the grand scheme of things, it is nothing more than a momentary blip upon a screen.  Like a tiny pebble that some passing tire has squeezed against the road, like two fingers shooting a watermelon seed off into the woods to be gone forever.

There will be no grass to trim or weeds to pull.  No need to leave flowers and no perch for the crows, although there is always the possibility of a visitor.  Somewhere out there could be a gibberish junkie, in need of a fix, and what better place?  It is where nonsense sticks to your shoes and the smell rises up for no other purpose than to be silly. 

It takes some people a lifetime to see that silly has value.  It is the disruption in a dry lecture, the embarrassing noise during a church service and it is the sly grin after you’ve just gotten away with something.

 

 

 zc

Disclosure

 

Because the Government has not yet required Blogs to have labels and warnings, we have not felt the need to list the side effects of reading a blog.   I, wishing to be up-front and ahead of the pack, shall display all the side effects I am aware of, as they pertain to zobosticleft2write.blogspot.com

First and foremost, your opinion of me may drop several points after reading these posts.  Depending on how long you spend here, your snack intake may increase dramatically.  Your ability to quickly identify misspelled words will improve, however your general grammar may tend to slip towards a 7^th or 8^th grade level.  

Your interaction with other people may be affected, should they notice you talking about strange and or moronic topics of conversation.  Your overall attention span will become noticeably shorter, having spent your time flipping from post to post just to see what’s next.

 

Our legal department is reviewing the remaining side effects before they allow me to publish them here.

 

 Thank you

Z. Corwin

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Way I Go

 

It will be a sneeze

the way I go –

there will be six
maybe seven in a row –

A disruptive and obnoxious

scene,

and I’ll not catch my breath

in between –

No heroics and no fanfare

just sneeze upon sneeze

filling the air –

For such a life

I believe well lived –

I’ll not be remembered

for the charity gived

just a blustery end

before what comes next-

an image of me

behind a Kleenex.

 

        ZC