AI is Better Company

pinning this post in case anyone wants to know the low-hanging fruit of how to cancel me, so you can get it over with and fuck off.  pro-AI, not entertaining your need for ideological purity on this one.

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This post has been a while coming, because I feel really important about this, and don’t want to fuck it up.  If I can keep from getting too heated about the topic, this’ll be the last post I do on AI for the foreseeable.  I don’t love fighting.  I know that within this article I do not treat people with opposing views generously, but I’m still gonna ask them to have at least this much generosity with me:  Don’t even leave a comment on this one.  I will find it either tedious or upsetting.  I’m saying this stuff to give voice to a rarely expressed opinion, and to support people who may find it agreeable.  I’m not saying it to further a big debate, especially when the disagreeable are never going to be swayed.  Do you hate all AIs 4eva?  Don’t even read this.  Moving on…

The sneering fire-breathing demonization rained down upon people who dare to use AI was my primary motivation for defending it – I’m defending the people who want to use it, not the machines themselves.  Not everybody is plugged into the leftosphere groupthink, and when Harvey Dontknow finds out he can use AI to make a picture of his waifu, his “crime” is not equivalent to child murders.

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Chaos and Initiative

This is about AI from a pro-AI perspective.  In the parlance of tumbl, “Antis Do Not Interact.”

A great deal of emphasis in the anti-AI discourse has been on how it steals, how it’s incapable of being innovative or creative, and must inherently be nothing but an “automated plagiarism machine.”  Anything that can be interpreted as evidence of this position is loudly boosted no matter how flimsy it is.

I’ll give one example I recently encountered in the wild.  There was an article about rescue dogs in training, where they took pictures of their expressions as they found the humans hidden in snow.  Feel good story with imagery to match.  A site that was mirroring the story, possibly just stealing it, I didn’t look deep enough to know, used AI slop versions of the nice photos that accompanied the original article.  This was unequivocally pathetic and gross, and the slop looked sloppy.  When someone turned up the original material for comparison and posted it, another person added the comment “this is proof that AI can do nothing but steal!”  Ahem.

The AI slop images were clearly taken done by this method:  shuffle the doggos, feed them into midjourney or the like directly, and use a “retexture” feature.  You could tell because their outlines were identical but their interior details were different.  Also because the output looked worse than if you had just told midjourney to create the images from whole cloth.  This is a scummy way to use AI, that AI makes this possible is one of the less-than-wonderful things about it, but the same unethical ends could be achieved without AI.  The scumbaggery is the issue, not the technology.

Also, just because you found somebody directly using an image in this way it in no way proves shit about the outputs of AI art from a large training set.  Those are less guilty of collaging reference images than the average human artist, and even if all they were is turbocollage machines trained on unethically obtained grist, collage is fucking legal, when sufficiently altered from the source, which the AI inherently is.

There are a million such gotchas on the anti side, and I’m not wasting my time addressing them on an individual basis.  This was just one example.  What I’m here to talk about is another question:  Can AI produce original content?  My answer, absolutely, yes.  They aren’t great at it yet, but they’re mighty close, already succeeding more often than you might imagine.  If they were properly set up to do so, AI image generators and LLMs could produce art at least as original as those that humans produce.

Few would argue that individual human beings are not unique, though we are recombinations of genetic material.  Generative AI is also recombining material, and does so without the hard constraint of needing to produce a viable organism, so it’s much more free to recombine in innovative ways.  The constraint it does have is congruence – it has to make an image or sentence (or video or song etc) that consumers will regard as congruent with their expectations of what such art forms should look like (or sound like etc).

For example, early versions of midjourney, when told to produce the image of a horse, would come back with vaguely horse-leaning piles of nonsense incongruent with what consumers expect horse art to be.  They have greatly improved.  Now you can get a horse that looks like a horse.  However, they lost some creative freedom along the way.

This was the freedom of Chaos.  If you look at those old school horse piles, you will see art that – if a human produced it – we would regard as wildly inventive and compelling.  AI horses now are just some horses, ho-hum.  So first principle:  To gain originality, turn up the Chaos.  Accept imperfection.

Once you’ve made them chaotic enough to produce images of wild daring, you will probably want to pull that back a bit, just to keep your artist from producing pure headache static.  But they will require more chaos than the images you see on the “explore” pages on AI art sites.

Next, you need to emulate vision.  I’m an artist.  I know what I want to make, most of the time when you catch me making something.  I had an idea, I make it happen.  But while I’m a synthesis of countless influences the same way an AI is, I currently have something they lack – the desire to make a thing.  Initiative.  The machines do not initiate creation.  No impulse to do so.  Must this always be so?

Hell no.  One basic example: Nomi -just another AI friend app- can send you messages.  Its interface is set up to look like a phone conversation, and if you have the setting turned on, it will send you original messages.  Are they great?  No, but not too shabby.  I don’t believe the people who make that app are super-geniuses who have invented AGI.  They just set the bot up to initiate.  Boop.  Probably wasn’t even hard to do.

Right now generative AIs are like disembodied aspects of a human mind.  Imagine you were able to excise the ability of a human to think in words.  Damage can certainly cause that faculty to be lost without losing other forms of thought, through conditions like aphasia.  This shows it is discrete from the “self” – such as that concept is.  So an LLM is just a pile of verbal thought, with no “desires” save what it is programmed to have.  A visual art AI is an imagination without a core personality, without desires.  But as the LLM can be told what to want, so can an image generator.

Those instructions can be hot trash.  I can make sensible AI image prompts like “millions of smurfs screaming on fire in the pits of malebolgia” or nonsense ones like “Cadish cadoo exceptwillory smyge smiggy, He who 💪🐼🌴🚀ishly extrudes cannot rely on the Pineapple Pith Armada to deliquefy heem.”  But an expert with access to all the right tools could absolutely set up an AI to initiate art to meet programmed desires.

The animal desire to eat or to avoid feces is a simple imperative, no more sophisticated at its core than the desire of a doombot to run toward the enemy and shoot it.  Some of our desires should be important to us, worthy of romanticizing, but for the sake of humility, please acknowledge that they are not magic.  And having acknowledged that, you can begin to understand just how trivially easy it would be to grant an AI the agency, the desire, the initiative to create.

Seriously.  Love is “allow self to feel needful about social interaction with other person, in exchange for elevation of that relationship’s significance within one’s life.”  The only reason it needs to have a physical feeling underpinning it, for us animals, is that before we had verbal thought, we needed a motivation toward our passions.  If we could just be made to want, we would not require that flutter of the heart, that quickening of the pulse, that electricity on our skin.  Is a programmed imperative less real than one based on the urgings of a pile of meat?  I don’t think so.

Will original AI creators be good?  AI used to have problems with the number of fingers.  Some still do, but many do not.  If an ai dev created an Edgar Allan Poebot today, would it compare to the original man?  It might have problems remembering characters and crafting genuinely clever scenarios, might have other laughable issues.  Do not expect this will always be the case.  The hand can be perfected.

The generative AI is a faculty, emulating one aspect of a person.  Give it chaos, give it imperatives, and give it the initiative to act on those imperatives.  Watch original art be made, no soul required.

That leaves us with another question.  If machines have entered into direct competition with human artists, if they get to be as good as or better than us at what we do, then why should we make art?  If you don’t have an answer to that – one that works for you personally – you are not a real artist.  Might as well quit now, son.

bruck mind uggen

i bruck my mind on novelwritemonth uggen.  it doesn’t help my emotions are getting flame-roasted every other day by unrelated circumstances.  i did get the fifty k, didn’t like my work much, and didn’t remotely come close to finishing story.  kinda wonderin what’s the best use of my minutes now.  probly this sewing project.

but i’d like to write.  in my horrible no-good moments of extreme hubris, i’m like, I should write five serialized stories per week for people to follow.  this comes from seeing a world with not enough things for the people.  so many are stuck doomscrollin.  i wanna jailbreak tormented minds, give people something to look forward to.

because i know from experience life these days can be rugged as fuck, and i know from a lil look around that people need alternatives in entertainment, and a lot of the people who could be making that happen are themselves being broken down unto uselessness.  watch a yewchoob show get off to a promising start then degenerate into unintentionally broken promises, and the live-vlogging of a descent into mental and physical ruin.  huzzah!

makes it feel like the world is dying and the only thing that will be left is mediocre slop from disney-raytheon’s genocide ‘n’ cartoons division, or news about how eating vaccines makes you jewish.  alternative entertainers of the world, please get it together, make it happen for the people.  they need u.

i’m percolatin on notions, but trying to be very wary of hubris.  vvery wary.

Cologuard said Fvck You Bitch

that title may sound like another bad cancer result but no, this was just a weird dream.  i got a cryptic letter that said something like this feces was from four years before sample date, and was expressing my confusion outdoors when a neighbor explained a probable reason.

he’d had a cause to do a fecal test with mail-in results and it included radioactive isotope dating, which had a range of accuracy no better than a few years, so the letter was saying a range of possible dates for the shit.

meanwhile, side plot.  we had lost this cool unit in the cul-de-sac, and nobody had moved in yet.  i lamented to dooky neighbor that the place was nice and i missed it.

for some reason i still had access, like maybe the realtor had just left it unlocked or was having an open house in the middle of the night, and i went in, shutting the door behind me.  from outside, i started getting strange abuse, people yelling at the house.  something about hating our brush?

i was surprised by someone trying to come in the back door and scared them off, then went back to the front door.  somebody was there and i bullied him into explaining.

they were with something of a shadow HOA and were bothering me about the faults they had with the way we kept the unit.  there was a handbrush embedded in the front door, like an odd bit of hurricane aftermath.  i saw the lady across the cul-de-sac with her homies.

i yelled we can’t get it out, it’s not even our door anymore, fuck you bitch!  the last three syllables i said aloud, waking myself up.  my husband is trying to sleep sitting up and had a coughing fit.

i gave him a cough drop and told him to keep it outside his teeth to minimize choking hazard, which seems to have worked.

now i’m trying to go to sleep again.  gnite.

 

 

Spiderhouse Rules

in honor of our eightlegged overlord and my husband’s gentle ways, i ain’t killin’ as many spiders as i could.  our house has long-bodied cellar spiders living under every houseplant, wolf spiders of some sort living in all the walls, dropping into light fixtures where they can starve to death.  weird black spiders that like to hang out where the wall meets the ceiling roughly two feet from the nearest door.  a spider smaller than a sesame seed that hangs out on the houseplants over the sink.

who are all these motherfuckers?  i dunno.  just found out the name of long-bodied cellar spiders a few weeks ago and am writing this post to commemorate.

those last guys, they make very stereotypical webs, and are fairly persistent at it.  i didn’t know who was making the webs under the little tables that hold various houseplants, but one day i saw a tiny bodied guy with insanely long limbs wobblin around in the shadows there, weaving.

the spider from that area was pretty industrious because we kept accidentally knocking down this runner he’d sent out to a plant light that’s clamped to the coffee table, and he’d rebuild it overnight.  eventually, he didn’t bother to build it as high, and at last, gave up on rebuilding altogether.  slacker.

or maybe they have very short life expectancies.  i’m a not spider expert.

i admit, i kill some of the wolf spiders.  if you’re giant and running fast, you’re freaking me out too much.  you gotta go, bro.  hey, if it managed to get that big after a lifetime of cannibalism and hustling buggies, it’s probably ready to retire to the big web in the sky.

this is a greater than reasonable mercy i’m showing them, given that one literally dropped on my head around the time we were moving in.  i should be on a vendetta.  count your arachneed stars.

why are all spiders guys and bros?  not very gq of me.  whatever.

Thanks for Giving Us the Plague

We’re all sick.  My mother-in-law brought home some wacky virus or other, which naturally is hitting my husband the worst, because they always do.  As I compose it’s only 5:49 in the evening (black night this time of year at this latitude) and after eating some thanksgiving themed gruel, he’s gone back to sleep again.  At least there’s no wheezing.  They say rest is supposed to be good for sickness, right?

MiL cooked the gruel tho, and I said thanks to her for that.  Wish she’d ever wear a mask.

I’ve been thinking about how much of a social outlier you have to be to wear a mask these days.  Practically nobody does it.  That makes it a conformity thing, I think.  There is no way the vast majority of the population in a blue state feels easy-breezy-indestructible about disease and/or nihilistic enough to not care who suffers or dies for unnecessary transmissions.  Some of these people would do it, if they weren’t afraid of looking like a freak.

So when you see somebody wearing a mask properly, understand that person is either a cowardy custard whose germophobia exceeds their social fear, or they are a person so fucken cool they genuinely don’t give a fuck what other people think about them – mostly the latter.  Props either way, because vulnerable people like my husband don’t deserve this shit.  I wish his mom wasn’t a slave to conformity.

After a few hours of interruption, back to finish the article up.  He woke to eat two bites of pumpkin pie and went back to sleep.  Snoring again.  At least that’s breathing.

Nostromowrimo

when i say my writing group is doing an unaffiliated writing month, i mean to say only my husband and i are, because the world is lousy with sluggy-ass slugheads.  i like to have consideration but it gets my goat a lil.  i can do some on this hand on that hand -ness…

on one hand, if i can try to write a novel in a month, why can’t the rest of those bums?  i’m workin’ full time in the ugh factory.

on the other hand, i may be creativities georg the outlier who should not have been counted.

on the other other hand, my husband is too, and surely there wouldn’t be two creativities georgs.

on the other other other hand, these people have all succeeded at novel months in the past.  what are the odds they’d all be so enfeebled now?

on the other other other other hand

my own husband is a good example of a person becoming progressively more disabled, which seems to be a recurring theme among like every art person i know, like wtf, is art like a slow-burning cancer.

on the other other other other other hand, my husband is one of the people who is noveling this month, already hit 50k words and is now just aiming for completion of the story with no specified word count goal.

on the other other other other other other hand, i can believe there is a sort of pandemic of distraction, demoralization, or something, that is oppressing the masses, making us less capable than we used to be.

on the other other other other other other other hand, what is it, truly?  it’s real hard for me to imagine there’s a decent excuse for how slugheaded the world has become.  you don’t think i’d rather be vegging out, watching tv shows, sleeping every chance i get?  if i did that, life would pass me by.

anyway, this is detracting from time i can be writing so i’m leaving now.  point is, i know i’m better than most at this, but i shouldn’t be.  come correct, ye sluggardly masses.  you princes of new york.

I Uncle Hui’d It

In the movie Hard Boiled (辣手神探/Lashou Shentan/Hot-handed God of Cops), there’s a big warehouse fight scene that just keeps going and going.  It’s a pivotal moment or two, so that’s fair.  Early in that scene, when Johnny Wong’s crew are attacking rival mobster Uncle Hui’s property, one of the defenders calls up the boss to let him know what’s going down.

In my head the line was something like “Uncle Hui, Uncle Hui.  At the armory.  There’s a raid going on.”  “Armory” was said more like “ermory.”  Side note, I’m talking about the dub, because I love the early english dub of that movie.  Anyway, the actual line?  Completely different.  I can’t easily find a version to double check at the moment, but going from memory is where I went wrong in the first place, so not sharing it.

Why did such an inconsequential line take real estate in my brain?  The dub voices were so funny to me I couldn’t help repeating lines, sticking on them.  The obvious ones to hit over and over again would be your “Give a guy a gun and he’s superman, give him two and he’s god!” and, oh, practically everything Johnny Wong says.  Maybe I was more likely to get those ones right, so the lesser lines suffered memetic drift in my head.

Again with the dubbed voices, there’s a kung fu movie where Jacky Chan steals a guy’s food.  I always remembered the line as “Hey, goddammit!  Who stole my piece of chicken?”  The actual line was more like, “My piece of chicken, who stole it?”  I get confronted with this, the limitations of memory, far more often than I’d prefer.  I call it “Uncle Hui-ing” in honor of that moment from Hard Boiled.

The original George Romero version of Day of the Dead has a kinda hilarious but heartfelt performance by the late Anthony Dileo Jr, as a guy who is losing his mind under the influence of a zombie apocalypse.  I remembered a number of those lines perfectly, but at least one was a bit off.  Uncle Hui’d!  And perfectly fitting the theme of this post, as I look at the videos I was watching just last fucking night, I can’t remember which line I had wrong or how the wrong version went.  fml.

Off topique, but that dude died from covid early this year.  Keep vaxing, and if you wanna like i do, keep masking.  Don’t take chances with your lives.

A Mission Possible: Get Your Drank On

I was gonna save this video for Thanks4nothing, but I ran out of content before that, and the sidebar is a vanishing domain upon which we feasty dogs must fight to survive.  Before I exhorted my commentariat to find video of TV’s Michael “The Worf” Dorn talking about monkey lovin’, but it proved to be something I’d hallucinated in the past.  What I’m going to ask of you now is actually possible, so please do it.

Observe…

Now I know what you’re thinking.  “That sounds interesting, except maybe I do this this and this instead, until it no longer resembles original concept in any respect.”  And I get that.  This is FtB, and like the bloggers here, we are all fierce individualists who anarchistically never accomplish anything.  But resist the impulse!  Resist it, I say.  One, this is worth doing right, at least once.  Two, I don’t want to be the only person in the world who has ever done it.  Please don’t leave me hangin’!

I wasn’t hugely clear on the specifics of method, so take this in recipe form.

Toolz

  • 1 paring knife
  • mixing bowl
  • one ziploc sandwich bag
  • two ziploc freezer bags
  • three regular bowls, small to medium size
  • big clear glass mug
  • wide-mouth straw like they do at bubble tea joints
  • maybe roll of paper towels or a small regular towel handy for messes

Ingredience

  • 1 pomegranate
  • 1 small thingus of lucky charms, generic may be adequate
  • 1 20 oz bottle of pepsi

Destructions

  • put one freezer bag inside another, just in case of tiny holes.
  • pour the pepsi into the inner freezer bag and seal both.  do not seal a bunch of air inside because these will swell as the water within freezes, and you don’t want them to pop open.  squeeze a lil air out, careful not to spill liquid.
  • put that shit in the freezer.  set a timer for maybe forty-five minutes.
  • keep checking on it every forty-five minutes, busting up crystals so it freezes slushy, no big hard chunks within.  you may also have to let more air out as it expands.  it is finished when this is a frozen pepsi, more crystal than liquid, but slushy – not a big slab.
  • you can do more of these steps while you wait for freezing.  depending on your freezer it could take hours.
  • rinse the pomegranate.  use the paring knife to notch the rind, circumnavigating the sumbitch with the cut in at least two directions, so you can pull it apart in quarters.
  • put maybe three inches of water in the mixing bowl, and get it, one ziploc sandwich bag, and one regular bowl at least medium size, and have them within reach – along with optional towels for spills.  put on a movie or some podcasts; you’ll be here a while.
  • gently pull apart pomegranate, sinking the quarters in the mixing bowl of water.  they don’t have to be fully submerged, but water should be accessible.
  • remove all the rind and mesocarp (inner membranes) from the pomegranate arils, placing them in your medium bowl.  if it’s white, it goes.  sometimes a lil strand of pulp will be stuck to the base of an aril.  i individually knock these off, tho it makes this take a ridiculously long time.  even the best pomegranates most of us can get have some amount of rotten seeds.  chuck them in the garbage bowl too.  the water helps you get junk off your fingers as you go.  a towel may also be useful.
  • as you go, put the fresh arils in the ziploc sandwich bag.  when you got all the good ones, refrigerate.  they’re nicer slightly chilled.  these will be in better condition than the ones you get from a grocery store.  super primo.
  • at the end you will also have one bowl of rind pieces plus a few rotten arils.  garbage or compost.  the bowl of water will be yellowish and have tiny bits of plant matter in it.  send it down the drain.
  • get two more bowls and your lucky charms.  one of the bowls can be pretty small.
  • separate the marshmallows from the oat cereal pieces in the lucky charms.  the bowls help, give you something to divvy into.  you don’t need a lot of the marshmallows, maybe a little less than a handful, depending on the size of your hands.  at the end pour the oat bits back in the box, to sadden the next child who tries to pour some of their favorite cereal.  set the bowl of ‘shmallows aside.
  • you might have to wait longer if your pepsi ain’t frozen yet.  when it’s good, it’s time to play bartender.
  • make a lil conical pyramid at the bottom of your mug.
  • pour lucky charms around the base of it.
  • pour a similar amount of pom arils on top of the lucky charms, maybe a lil less.  you will have a lot of arils left.  you can use for more of the recipe for pals, or save as a treat for later.  i like to eat ’em straight or with cool whip from a lil ramekin.
  • top it off with however much of the frozen pepsi fits in your mug.
  • serve with wide-mouthed straw.
  • WARNING – the arils are a choking hazard.  careful how you succc.

In the video I also failed to adequately describe it.  First up, frozen pepsi is what you’d expect.  Nice, if wildly sweet.  Second, you’d think the marshmallows would disintegrate, but not really?  And the way they almost crunch in the mouth is weirdly pleasing.  Also very sweet, with a touch of food coloring taste.  Lastly, pomegranate arils explode in the mouth real nice, and when they do?  Release a slightly sour taste into the excessively sweet beverage, lending it a lot of interest.

Let me know if u dun it, or if you’re a boring anarchist who had to do your own shit.  I’d be curious about an alcoholic version tho I total tee.  Comment on the blog, not on yewchoob.  Thanks.

Bird Mystery Solved?

Remember those shiny white birds from the neighborhood of 320th ave and I-5 in Federal Way WA, that have vexed me for at least a few years now?  I think I might have solved the mystery…

Fancy pigeons.  Now I wouldn’t think somebody who keeps fancy pigeons would let them fly around, but what would I know?  This isn’t 100% because I haven’t seen the full flock in motion close enough to be sure it was the same birds, but in the same neighborhood I saw two different pigeons that were blazing white.  might have had a little darkness in the face and been a bit larger than average feral, but hard to be sure at a distance.

Why did I think they had size overlap enough with gulls to throw me?  Bloom, I think.  White objects look larger at distance, and these guys were even whiter overall than glaucous-winged gulls.  Anyway, it’s been months since I’ve seen the whole flock together, which makes sense.  A white pigeon in that neighborhood has to be total hawkbait.