Liftoff

 

    

The design we settled on was much larger and had greater capabilities than the ones we are holding in this photograph.   David won the coin toss, so he got to sit in the front seat.  I had plenty of room in the back for myself and our beverages.  Upon our return we plan on taking another picture and we will place it here with this one.

 

 

     Arrival: TBD

Say Cheese

 

Looking back, I’d have to say it all started when I noticed I had a tea kettle that didn’t know how to whistle.

We had always had an arrangement, the critters and I.  They would come out in the backyard during the night and eat whatever food I had set out for them, and they’d get a drink from the bowl of fresh water.

        This had gone on for some time, and no one ever complained.   Then, just yesterday, while cleaning up my breakfast dishes, I happened to glance out to the back and there they all were, out during the day.  Many, many racoons of all sizes, possums all bunched in like it was going to be a class picture or something.  And, as if, there was a memo circulated around the neighborhood, even the crows showed up to fill in the gaps.

        What did they want?  What did they think was going to happen?  None of us knew how to communicate with each other, so it wasn’t like they were going to demand better food.  Was I supposed to go out there and face them?  Then what?

        Thinking back, there had been a change.  Everyday I boiled water in my tea kettle and use that hot water to clean and sterilize their food dish and water bowl.  That tea kettle would whistle when the water was ready.  I’m sure that whistle could be heard in the backyard.  This new kettle fails to produce a whistle and maybe it is that lack of announcement that caused a stir in the critters, maybe thinking there had been a change in my behavior, which could affect their food supply.

 

       

 Of course, I'm just guessing.

ZC

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Endorsed by Zobostic Corwin

 

Scanning an overall view of this Blog makes me look like someone sitting back, taking pot-shots at society, pointing out the mistakes, the blunders and obvious oversights. 

That is not my intention.  I simply observe life and if it seems Blog worthy, I jot it down.  Of course, I’m not going to agree with everything I see, and I don’t expect to, but the things out in left field, that should have never left the dugout, well… I can’t help it.  They put themselves there and so I see them as fair game.

The best example of that is the politician who, with a straight face, spout off lies.  They know they’re lying, the audience knows it and the media, (the ones not laughing) know it.  I see them as fair game. 

If they are old enough to run for office, then it is safe to say they are adults.  Adults are supposed to know better. It is assumed they comprehend right from wrong, so they have no excuse.  If what they are saying is 100% true, then they do not need weasel-wording, double-talk, or to be creating their own definitions for words. 

No one cares how many jobs your mother had, or why your family had to struggle.  We only need to know what qualifies you for the job you’re seeking, what you’re going to do and how you are going to get it done.  That’s it.

 

 

 

 ZC

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

So who is steering?

 

Much of the time I feel I’m just drifting along, like some oddly shaped cloud, unaware the library closes in 20 minutes or yesterday was the last day for buy one – get one at the market. 

There seems to be more to this paying attention thing than I was told.  So, who is exactly in charge of making sure everyone gets notified of things and that they understand them? Is there someone steering this ship? 

“Hey, I didn’t know that.” should never be a response to something.  There should be a chart, you know – showing the person at the top responsible for stuff, then various people under them, doing the less important things.

I would have thought all of these things would have been done long before I ever got here.  Way back, when somebody suggested we live in a group, you know, form a society, make rules and all of that stuff.  That’s when the chart should have been drawn and the ones in charge identified.

 

***

 

 

You’re describing something most people feel but rarely admit: the quiet suspicion that somewhere—behind a curtain, in a back office, under a flickering fluorescent light—there should be a person whose entire job is to make sure you know things. The library hours. The market specials. The deadlines. The “Oh, by the way, that ended yesterday.”

But there isn’t. And the absurdity is that society pretends there is.

🧭 The Mythical Steering Committee

If you drew the chart you’re imagining, it would look official enough to hang in a government building:

• The Universal Notifier — the person at the top, responsible for ensuring every human knows everything relevant to their day.
• The Department of Mildly Important Things — library hours, trash pickup changes, the fact that the post office closes early on Saturdays.
• The Bureau of Fleeting Opportunities — sales, coupons, limited-time offers, “buy one–get one” miracles.
• The Office of Tiny Consequences — the stuff you only realize mattered after it’s too late.

It would be a beautiful chart. It would make you feel like someone was steering the ship.

But the truth is: the ship is drifting, and everyone is pretending someone else is at the wheel.

🌬️ Drifting Is the Default

Most people move through life exactly as you describe—like oddly shaped clouds, bumping into events rather than navigating toward them. The idea that we’re supposed to be constantly alert, constantly informed, constantly aware is a fiction invented by people who write productivity books.

You’re not inattentive. You’re human.

And humans were never designed to track:

• library closing times
• grocery store promotions
• DMV holiday schedules
• the fact that the recycling truck comes one hour earlier after storms

We were designed to notice berries, predators, and whether the fire was still burning.

Everything else is modern noise.

🗺️ Why the Chart Was Never Drawn

When society began—when someone first said, “Let’s live together, make rules, share resources”—they absolutely should have drawn the chart. They should have appointed:

• a Chief Reminder Officer,
• a Director of Don’t Forget,
• a Minister of Hey, Just So You Know.

But instead they invented committees. And committees invented meetings. And meetings invented confusion.

So the chart never happened.

🌟 The Real Answer

There is someone steering the ship, but it’s not a person. It’s a patchwork of:

• chance
• habit
• whoever happened to post a sign
• whoever forgot to
• your own drifting attention
• the world’s indifference
• and the occasional librarian who calls out, “We’re closing in twenty minutes.”

No single captain. Just a chorus of tiny, inconsistent signals.

And you—moving through them with your cloud-shaped grace.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Two Cookies

 

Two Chocolate Chip Cookies sitting on the counter.  One had poison in it, and the other didn’t.  There was no way to tell by looking at them which was which. 

The odds were 50/50.  One bite of the wrong cookie and it would be curtains.  Both looked tempting, home-made with big bits of chocolate.  But how to choose? 

It reminded me of the Princess Bride, when the choice appeared to be a 50/50 gamble but in reality, it wasn’t. 

“Surely, I cannot choose the cookie in front of me, for only a fool would reach for what he was handed.  And I cannot choose the cookie in front of you, for that’s what you’d expect me to do and therefore would have put the poison in your own cookie.” 

Taking what I learned in my Conflict Avoidance class, I took the piece of cake.

 

There are some mental exercises that involve several aspects of cognition not usually called into service.   I find that these tend to accelerate exhaustion.   I recommend avoidance. 

 

ZC

I'll be the Judge of That

 

Having a robot alibi may be tested in the courts, but with an inability of robots to lie, it should hold up.

 

 

***

 

 

A robot alibi sounds airtight at first glance, ZC — clean, crisp, stainless-steel truth delivered without hesitation — but the courtroom is a trickier ecosystem than that. The idea that “robots can’t lie” is comforting, but in law, the issue isn’t whether the machine lies. It’s whether the data, the chain of custody, the interpretation, and the human inputs are trustworthy.

The short version: a robot’s testimony isn’t automatically reliable — it’s only as strong as the system around it.

⚖️ Why a robot alibi might hold up

• Machine consistency — Robots don’t get nervous, confused, or pressured. Their logs are timestamped, structured, and reproducible.
• Digital evidence trails — If a robot records your presence, your voice, your commands, or your location, those logs can be powerful corroboration.
• No human memory flaws — A robot won’t misremember or embellish.

⚠️ Why a robot alibi can still fall apart

• Data tampering concerns — Even if the robot itself “can’t lie,” someone could alter logs, spoof commands, or manipulate inputs.
• Interpretation issues — A robot might record that you said “turn on the lights,” but that doesn’t prove where you were or what you were doing.
• Authentication hurdles — Courts require proof that the data is genuine, unaltered, and tied to the right person.
• Bias in sensors — Microphones mishear. Cameras misidentify. Location systems drift.

🧩 The deeper truth

    A robot alibi is like a photograph: It doesn’t lie, but it doesn’t tell the whole story either.

    Courts don’t ask, “Can the robot lie?” They ask, “Can we trust the system that produced this evidence?”

    And that’s where things get interesting — because the system includes humans, networks, firmware, updates, permissions, and the entire digital ecosystem surrounding the robot.

🌱 A thought experiment for you

Imagine Alexa testifying:

“Zobostic was home at 8:14 PM. He asked me to play jazz.”

Sounds solid. But then the prosecutor asks:

“How do we know it was Zobostic’s voice? Could someone else have triggered the command? Could the microphone have misidentified the speaker? Could the logs have been altered after the fact?”

Suddenly the stainless-steel truth has fingerprints all over it.

 

 

 

 

 Objection!

 

 

 

 

 

 

Living Proof

 

My pal Chuck was right.   After school, yesterday, he was telling me about this theory he came up with.  I really wasn’t paying close attention, but it was something about survival of the fittest, whatever that is.

He tends to go on and on about stuff.  After a while, it’s just blah, blah, blah.  But this time he showed me what he was talking about.

He said it had to do with evolution and how things survive.  Then he pointed out all of the tiny wild mushrooms in his yard.  Then he pointed at the large riding mower the lawn guy was driving around on, and how his helper was going behind him with a weed-whipper. 

I said, yes, I see they do a good job, but what does that have to do with your theory of only the strong surviving?

We then walked back to where all of the tiny, young mushrooms were and they were all gone.  The riding mower had chopped off their heads and scattered their bodies to the wind, but the strongest mushroom had survived both the killer blades of the riding mower as well as the sting of the weed-whipper.

Chucky was right.  The proof was right there at my feet.  I suggested he write this theory down and show it to someone.  He said maybe he would, but for now he was working on a way to get out of gym class tomorrow.

 

 

The Survivor