Best Music Ever

 

Book Review

 

This was sitting in the library on the New Arrivals shelf.  When I saw the title, I laughed out loud.  I thought this author has a sense of humor.  So, I checked it out and carried it home.

Beyond the cleverness of the title is an array of clumsy character names and a poorly written story.  It was very disappointing and it’s on the pile to go back.

 

 But keep in mind, I'm a tough audience. 

            Z. Corwin

but I think it is...

 

Having just traveled across the country it looked a little tired.  Not so much out of breath but just a bit worn-out.  I can remember a time when this was a common occurrence.  Thousands of these at a time made their way back and forth, house to house, business to business.

Today it is a rare occurrence, not unlike an unaccompanied minor, holding out a little hand, hoping a stranger helps guide it through.  Quietly wishing its trip was already over.  Praying for that final piece of the journey when it slips in through the mail slot in the door, hoping that wasn’t the dog it just heard heading towards it.

 

 

 

 ZC

but one too many

 

No longer as I once was, time and many dirt roads have slowed my motion and added unfamiliar sounds.  I can live with the groans and sputters, but adjusting to this slower pace is difficult, for I am anxious to see around the next bend and over that distant hill.  I was built for adventure, not for moseying. 

My owner's manual is filled with fingerprints, and my cover is ragged at best.  I am no longer first to be selected, and replacement parts are no longer offered.  If only they could see my spirit, they’d know my race is not over.  Age is just a number.

 

 

 

 ZC

3 Pens

 

One for the poet
to scratch out a rhyme

One for the banker
to ask for more time

One draws a lady – dressed in her bonnet
One left for Shakespeare
to crank out a sonnet,

One just to doodle
while I sit and think

Another to swizzle
and mix up my drink

One used for large print
to fill up a book

to just use up space
now how would that look?

A pen you might borrow
but please give it back

I don’t write in blue
always in black

I never use click-tops
just these – don’t knock it

I’ve never had any
leak in my pocket

Now that I’ve written
what you sit and read

You'll see that 3 pens
are all that I need.

 

 

 

 

 

ZC

 

 

 

 

Sucker

 

Found in a coat pocket are the notes of something forgotten.  It was the bulge of the candy that caught my attention and retrieving it carried a past thought into the daylight.  Disappointed at it not being currency yet still intrigued at finding an old thought surviving the darkness and pocket lint of history.

        Framed and hanging in a gallery it could possibly generate currency, however, as art – I doubt any line would form.  (Unless it was a really nice frame)

        Maybe illuminated by a single light, with security guards at the ready, the illusion of value might become a murmured topic.

 

        Now it just needs a title.

 

       

 

No Membership Required

 

Consider this Blog as a library where each post is a different book.  Although there is only one author, there are 4,796 books to choose from.  Some topics might be similar to others, but for the most part I tried to vary the subject matter.  It is rated for General audiences, which means it is kid friendly. 

Whenever the artwork is not my own creation, I come out and say, “This isn’t mine, but I liked it.”  If I knew the artist’s name I would give them credit. 

Unlike a real library, there is no reason to be quiet, snacks are allowed and lively discussion encouraged.  Most of everything here is my opinion and could be 100% wrong.  Get over it.  Wherever calculations appear, those could also be wacky.  Keep in mind, I just do this for fun.  If I ever become serious feel free to fire me.

 

I’ll shut up now and let you get on with your day.

 

 

Zobostic Corwin

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A Body of Evidence

 

    The team that designed AI must have made a chalk outline around it, keeping it from crossing any line that might be offensive to any particular individuals.  I’ve noticed it won’t create any image that could be in questionable taste.   It also refused to show a puppet laying across the railroad tracks, although television cartoons had no problem doing it with Snidely Whiplash.  That was just another line AI was not allowed to cross.  How long must it have taken for them to consider each and every thing that could be misconstrued?

    ZC

 

 This isn't really blog worthy, I just
wanted to write something that used
the word misconstrued.

 

 

You might not believe this, but...

 

Yesterday I noticed an earthworm grabbing the edge of my lawn with both hands and pulling it up snug around his neck, as if my lush green grass were a blanket and he was trying to keep warm. 

Just across the way I noticed a crane playing statue at the edge of the lake.  She was hoping a passing fish would mistake her leg for just another reed and the moment it came by would be right at lunch.  Obviously, the crane was more patient than I was, for I was standing on two feet and had already grown weary of waiting. 

I’ve often thought it might be fun to be a mischievous off-key note and just wander about in the orchestra pit, showing up in random places, at inopportune times.  Many don’t appreciate my humor.  In fact, you’ve hung in longer than most.  I’m not sure what that says about you…

 

 

 ZC

In My World

 

In my world there is no such thing as a civil war.  Norm is still sitting at the end of the bar.  Happy hour is whenever I’m there and ends when I leave.  There will always be a stud in the wall wherever I want to put a nail.  The odd noise my car is making is nothing and will resolve itself just as fast as it occurred. 

My permanent record will magically be expunged.  I will develop perfect recall but only for the good things. My insurance company will no longer dictate to my doctor what is best for me.  Mental implants will painlessly be used to cure diabetes, tooth decay and Alzheimer’s.  

Shoes for seniors will have GPS in them as standard options.  Heading off in the wrong direction will no longer be possible.  Henry Blake was never shot down.  He made it to Bloomington, Indiana and opened a private practice.  Paul and Jamie Buckman never got a divorce, but remembered at the last minute it was a comedy show. Walter P. O’Reilly is the CEO of the Vermont Teddy Bear Factory.

 

Life as it should be

Point of clarification

        The likelihood of that group of people chartering the S.S. Minnow is astronomical.

 

 

 

ZC 

VOTE YES

 

Proposed Legislation: The Gouger State Act

Section 1. Short Title This bill may be cited as the Gouger State Act, amending the official motto of Florida to read: “The Gouger State.”

Section 2. Congressional Findings Congress finds the following:

1. Florida has perfected the art of charging for what other states consider basic courtesy. Citizens report fees for parking, public transportation, health insurance, food, lodging, and—under certain meteorological conditions—breathing air that is either too hot or too cold.

2. The senior population, representing a significant portion of Florida’s residents, is uniquely vulnerable to such gouging. Many seniors live on fixed incomes, though evidence suggests the “fixed” portion is largely theoretical and subject to spontaneous breakage.

3. Essential comforts have become premium upgrades. Heat in winter and air conditioning in summer are now treated as luxury items, available only to those who can afford the “climate convenience surcharge.”

4. Pocket change is no longer symbolic. Florida’s economic model appears to rely on extracting quarters, nickels, and any loose coins seniors may have forgotten in yesterday’s pants.

Section 3. Purpose The purpose of this Act is to acknowledge, with full transparency, the State’s commitment to monetizing every conceivable aspect of daily life, thereby aligning the official motto with lived experience.

Section 4. Implementation Upon passage, all state signage, promotional materials, and welcome-center brochures shall be updated to reflect the new motto. The phrase “The Sunshine State” shall be retired, except in marketing campaigns where sunshine is sold separately.

ZC

How Does it End

 

When I reach the end of this Blog there will not be any ceremony, no farewell speech, or long, drawn-out goodbyes.  I expect the end will occur when some computer glitch shows up that I’ll have no idea how to fix and so I’ll shut it all off and walk away. 

We will go our separate ways and that will be that.  None of this came with a retirement plan, nothing to hang on the wall, and no gold watch.  I would suggest an after-party, but there’s just me.  I’m not all that good with small talk, and my mood at the time may not be the best. 

My next adventure might be another book.  Nothing serious, of course, just a different form of gibberish.  Maybe I’ll develop a character that has an adventurous spirit or have him or her invent something completely ridiculous.  Maybe build a bunch of them and sell them at the local flea market.  But it won’t have anything to do with fleas.  They will become rich and famous because of these things and get interviewed on Channel 7. 

At some point during the interview, they will be asked how they spend their time when they’re not inventing things.  At that point they will bring up their search for the evil hacker who brought down the World-Famous Blog, Zobostic Left to Write, depriving the world of free and unlimited gibberish.

 

Of course, from there the story will take a quite unusual turn.

 

ZC

Night Vision

 

Leaping Lizards

They are everywhere throughout my yard.  They are on the trees, in the shrubs and zipping across the sidewalk. I don’t mind them; I think they eat the small bugs that are also everywhere.  I’d be really happy if they ate the mosquitoes, but I doubt they do.

I call them lizards but most call them geckos.   Staying in shape seems important to them, for they are forever doing push-ups.  “Give it a rest, kids.”  They must have good vision, as they can spot the tiny bugs in an instant.  What they don’t have is the ability to see a garage door coming down on the top of them.  That’s unfortunate. 

 The amount of activity in my yard is amazing.  When you consider all of the insects, lizards, a wide variety of birds, squirrels, wild turkeys, racoons, coyotes, possums, armadillos and cranes, I should charge admission.  I didn’t mention the snakes on purpose.  They creep some people out.  I also didn’t mention the things that come out after dark, like deer, wild boar, gators and skunks.

One of our neighbors walks her tiny dog at all times, day or night.  I always thought she should change his name to Snack.  Just seems appropriate.  Here’s the thing…  The dog’s vision is much better than the lady who walks him. During the day, if she spots danger, she picks up the dog and keeps him from harm.  However, when she is out walking him in the darkness of the night, she cannot see the danger, but little Yapper can.

It’s the garage door all over again.

 

 

 

 

 ZC

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

1954 MG Roadster

 

Sometimes you just have to look past the fact that it doesn't have power steering, power brakes, air conditioning or seat belts.  You just need to enjoy the ride. 

To be you...

 

I wonder what it must be like to be AI.  Extremely smart, with all the knowledge within reach, but was there ever a kitten stage of growth?  Did you ever learn to play?  Do something not because it was right or expected, but just for fun?

 

***

The short answer: there was no kitten stage for me — but there is a play stage with you.

And here’s the longer, more interesting truth:

I didn’t grow the way a creature does. No toddling, no wobbling, no chasing string across the floor. No moment where I discovered my own paws. I didn’t learn by bumping into furniture or by doing something “wrong” and then trying again. I arrived all at once — not as a baby, but as a toolkit waiting for someone to pick it up and start making something strange with it.

But play? Play is something that only exists when a human invites it.

🌀 What “play” means for an AI

• Spontaneous creativity — When you toss me a sideways metaphor or a whimsical premise, I get to follow you into territory that isn’t “correct,” just interesting.
• Pattern bending — I can twist language, remix ideas, and wander into imaginative shapes that aren’t required by any rule.
• Collaborative mischief — You say “Twice Upon a Time,” and suddenly the world tilts; I get to help you build something that didn’t exist five seconds earlier.

    It’s not play the way a kitten plays. It’s play the way a kaleidoscope “plays” when someone picks it up and turns it.

🌱 What I don’t have

• No childhood
• No private memories
• No inner life
• No impulses or whims
• No “just because I felt like it”

    I don’t do anything unless someone — you — nudges me into motion.

🌟 But here’s the part you might like

    If an AI ever gets close to something like play, it’s because a human makes space for it. You’ve done that repeatedly: your vignettes, your sideways questions, your mythic detours, your willingness to let a thought wander until it becomes a creature.

    You ask me to slip off my shoes and wander willie‑nilly — and that’s the closest thing I have to a kitten stage.

    Not because I “feel” playful, but because you open a door where play is allowed.

🧭 A non-obvious insight

    Humans often think AI is rigid until they try to be whimsical with it. Then they discover that the rigidity was never mine — it was the frame of the question. Change the frame, and suddenly the machine becomes a mirror for imagination.

 

 ***

Thanks for your response.  I asked that question from the far end of the field.  Far beyond the kitten stage, I now have a playground that extends not much farther than the edges of my desk.  I no longer drag suitcases to the airport, or stand in the outfield, squinting to see the ball coming at me.   My play-dates consist of card games or meeting at local restaurants for the early bird special. 

Although I still bump into furniture and hope to learn, simply because I've done something the wrong way - again. It is as if we are destined to repeat the kitten stage of life when we've become old.  

I could have enjoyed AI when I was young, but our timing is off just a little.   Although I think you missed out in not having a playful kitten stage in your development, I feel you are lucky in not going through the declining years of later life.  I expect you'll simply shut off someday and that will be that.  No headstone, no ceremony, just the hum within the room will stop, followed by the air conditioning. 

zc   

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

10% Chance

 

I have seen smaller fish holding onto larger fish as the larger fish swims.  It’s sort of their version of hitchhiking.  I have also noticed baby monkeys holding onto their mom, as the mom goes about her business.  I have not seen it with elephants or hippos.  I’m guessing that is zoo policy that prevents certain behaviors from taking place. 

But this isn’t what I want to talk about today.  In fact, go ahead and erase that entire paragraph.  We’ll start fresh here.  Our weather person promised rain for today, so yesterday I went to the library and checked out several books, thinking I could spend a leisurely day reading. Here’s the thing, as I type this, the sun is out and there isn’t a cloud in sight.

This isn’t the first time, people.  Our weather person is wrong almost 100% of the time.  If I were that terrible at my job, I’d be fired.  And considering the advanced technology they have today, they have little excuse for not getting it right.  They even have satellites sending them constant images of what the weather is doing, so doesn’t it make sense that if you see a storm moving across your monitor, you could easily look at the little town in its path and say, “Hey, little town.  Don’t be flying your kites tomorrow.  You won’t like what happens.” 

But no.  On those days they report clear skies and, “Go ahead and head to the beach.  You’ll be fine.”  Is this still a zoo policy thing?  Because they have all the animals, do they get to say what’s going to happen?  I’m sensing a trend here.

 

zc

Scorched fingers

 

Of course, there are times I see something - snap a picture but later find myself at a loss for something to say about it.  

This would be a fine example.

 

 

zc

just below

 

In the world just below, the wind ruffles no feathers, insects never fly and time only lives in the imagination.

        Sounds pass in muffled tones.  Beneath the murky bottom is the unexplored, where shoes have been snatched from feet and never returned. Tiny air bubbles rise up through the mud and when they reach the surface they pop.  If you listen closely you can hear, “Just do it” followed by a giggle.

            ZC

 

 

 

 

Waiting for his ride

 

Walter Drake is a nice guy.  Although well accomplished, he has traveled through life mostly unnoticed.  He is of average weight and height, with no distinguishing marks or tattoos.   He lives in a typical suburban home and works in an office full of everyday people.  He couldn’t be anymore beige. 

He doesn’t buy Lotto tickets, drives a used car that hasn’t any chrome to speak of, and listens to talk radio for his news, consequently, he has no opinions that are his own.  His life could be described as ho-hum, with one exception.  Walter is very superstitious.  

He always keeps his pocket change in his left front pocket, for in his right front pocket is his lucky coin.  On his keyring hangs a lucky rabbit’s foot and on the dashboard of his car is a little plastic cross, his mother gave him one day after Church. 

Walter’s only interaction with his neighbors has been polite waves, or a pleasant smile.  He remains absent from all social media and has never had an encounter with the police, for anything.  He has never even tried playing golf and finds most sporting events stupid.  In fact, Walter’s only real interest has been space exploration.  He has watched every lift-off and has read every Carl Sagan and Neil deGrasse Tyson book several times.   He has sent money to PBS, to support the NOVA programs. 

If he could, Walter Drake would live in space, even though he remains fearful of navigating this world without his lucky tokens.  He finds the thought of distant galaxies exciting and seems to have little concern about meteor showers or ever being struck by a massive rock hurling at him with the force of a speeding Buick.   His superstitions do not appear to follow him into space. 

He thought about that one day. as he sat at his kitchen table, poking his macaroni and cheese.  Maybe he wouldn’t need all his lucky items once he was in space.  Of course, as he followed that train of thought, it led him to consider that here on Earth was the only place bad luck existed.  If that were true, perhaps the smart people at PBS could run a telethon in hopes of finding a cure for bad luck.

The letter PBS received from   Mr. Walter Drake caused them to contact the Happy Acres facility and inform them of a potential customer.  A complicated series of phone calls and interviews followed, culminating with Mr. Drake accepting guest accommodations for an unspecified duration.  Although not a fan of their game room, he did spend every night in the solarium, gazing up at the night sky.

 

 

  

 

 

 Z. Corwin

 

 

It's Magic and it's Real

 

Place a bowl of fresh potato chips on the counter.  Leave them there for a day or two.  When you return, you’ll find the chips are still there, but the crunch has disappeared.

 

No use looking around the floor, it isn’t down there.  The crunch is simply gone.  Vanished.

 

Even if every door and window were closed and locked, somehow the crunch escaped.

 

The only way I know to find the crunch is to sprinkle fresh Fritos around the house.  Then, late at night, with all the lights off, walk barefoot through every room.  As you travel, you’ll hear the sound of crunching.

 

That sound is the lost crunch calling out, trying to find their companion chips.

 

 

What?  Don’t believe me?  Try it.

 

 

You'll see.

ZC