Sally's on the clearance rack herself (!) already on her way to extinction, affordable for Salamana, the poorest district (I did the USDA grant analysis, go work in Salamanca if you want to qualify for any assistance that might still exist, incl student loans cz just living in Salamanca counts as hardship). Sophie was 50k just to rent her for one day for that commencement that I did not attend - I wasn't protesting the robot, I just haven't gone to a graduation since Ears walked the stage / the shooting, none of us have shaken the gut-memories of that day.
but. loooots of humans got a bug up their ass about Sophie as a speaker simply because she was AI, and of course the humanities got blamed for the blow-back, because there is human in the word, and they canceled MY booked speaker-author last minute to pay for it, which got out because the robot and the author have the same agent ( who was very offended on the human's behalf ).
to review:
https://www.rebekahtaussig.com/ the cancelled author - Sitting Pretty is a great book btw, life is hard category memoir with a biting sense of humor (and great twist ending).
but NOW is how that story lands bc all this time, that criticism of Sophie and her $cost getting out cz of me has been a grudge my president has been holding.
I could not make this up.
welp, this further proves my point about the unique continuity capacity of humans - a Tarot-Bee could not hold the thought of that grudge not just lack venom enough as a personality trait. but a human woman scorned sure can.
did I even give a shit about the robot speaker thing? (no) I probably blogged something snarky about it 🤷🏽♀️ I can't feel a grudge that complex and unhealthy bc I have been really careful with my mind. I do ask myself if I am a fucking asshole and try not to be one bc otherwise I WOULD BE A FUCKING ASSHOLE (duh). that's just nuts. if the grenade wasn't thrown at me, I could almost see writing about it for real. that's how fucked up that story is, it brings out my instinct to queer it (cue hilarious raunch version).
without it being funny: it is normal for humans to want to please teachers they find pleasing, it is an almost universal experience. as an adult, ok, that sucks for an adult student paying for a fucking bot prof or graduation speaker, whatever, nobody even remembers that shit anymore. but a kid? a teacher that can only act like it likes you but will forget your name in a heartbeat? because it has none? in any formative period of life, that seems truly fucked up to me. like, how does that end well?
that's one reason ya never fuck freshmen ( unless it's twenty five years later and he's somebody that you texted today because he knows that crazyass 👆 bot grudge story ) cz it's too close to formative years and there's a power dynamic - like by all means try to get as many of them as you can to fall in love with you in a weird way, by loving something (an idea) while in front of them (a hard idea, and you're really into it). they're learning something about themselves and hopefully falling in love with that something. give it a little 👁 when one catches yours. but only 🤏 bc they're ravenous for love and attention, the younger they are the more they are like babies who will cry until they feel better and are fed even if you are exhausted and want to kill yourself, it's not their job to care about that/you/others quite yet.
you never go any category of full 👁 unless you're looking into the eyes of a grown someone who is teaching you just as much (reverse blinks and such).
high school is KIDS and dangerous af stomping grounds for sociopathologies - fuck them up more with a SEXDOLL TEACHER - ?
still, it is almost funny 🤏. like, imagine the guy who owns that business that makes sexy teacher bots, and then sells life companions to the resultingly-formed humans. IMAGINE THAT GUY. I have seen that guy and he is Dave, ya know? he was sitting right in front of me and it would be a guy just like that.
MIKE!!! fuck, Mike, he IS the guy ... who would invent a full-body female product line for use as teacher or companion.
and I tried essentially to do the same thing, except I was the only thing embodied in the experiment. huh 🤔
and I'd do my job for what they are paying Sally in Salamanca - it'd be a comedown but eh applebees is fine - so it's not like they can't afford humans - then, what is the reason or the motivation for a teacher-bot that you could touch? harm? break? unplug/kill? I mean, it's not giving you anything that you actually need and want at a ravenous age, so why wouldn't you want to throttle it? it's so strange 🤔
this is the kind of shit that I shouldn't blog because it's just thinking through out loud garbage of words, blah, blah, blah mostly - I wouldn't put it here until I'd trimmed down into ... something
But I don't want to forget how I got to this thought: that if I still have a job in the fall and a freshman class is still on my schedule, this is what the topic is going to be. Robots and Humans, The Love? Story. And I need a book that's called something like going to college with AI textbook / place to start. that's the kind of thing that I can ask my bot to just find. it doesn't have to remember why. although it does have to remember why if I were to do both, do the class and also write that Mike Whatever story - and it can't do that reliably. remember. it could not tell me where those ideas started so I could go back and have a look all around. remember.
if I can't do that, then I probably just end up doing neither thing. swamped anew. moving on to the next set of thoughts. no trace. except here.
what / who I was thinking about today: all the different strands came together at the root by being replaced and the unintended consequences of that severing was what I was thinking about today. as I drove a lot, migrating out further east to scoop the kids and back to Vegas with them. they live with ten people on thirty two acres, ten people minimally, but usually they're cousins thrown in. even the baby jumped into my arms like 'let's make a run for it'. they ate EVERYTHING holy shit then PASSED OUT. I watched them sleep, and thought all these words swirling
migration status: home, elevation unchanged, I still smell like the woods I'll be back to by Thursday, hoping the rain flushed the lake
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| "plop" curation |
you could never throw a dodgeball at it, and what if one of the things you (needed to) learned about yourself was that you are funny?
Once two lives have genuinely intersected, neither continues exactly as it otherwise would have.
