Wednesday, May 17, 2023

Robots, spam, and happy cows.


Got an email the other day. Apparently someone from my distant past saw my profile and wanted to chat more. 

On Classmates.com.

Maybe they were interested in buying my 1966 Plymouth Valiant with the cracked rear windshield, compliments of Johnny C. 

Or were wondering if I had found their WalkMan™. Oh who am I kidding, the WalkMan™ wouldn't hit the shelves until a good ten years after I graduated high school.

In other words, I'm old. The Walkman is old. Classmates.com is old. Anything old is invariably going to be replaced with something new. Particularly if there's legal tender involved.

This got me thinking. Always a dangerous proposition.

If you were to buy a new car today, would you spring for the $3000 optional NAV system. Actually, I'm not sure if NAV systems are even offered anymore. Maybe Infiniti, a company with its head on backwards is still selling them, but who's buying? Even stupider, who's buying Infiniti's?

Just as the Walkman was replaced by the iPod, which was then replaced by the iPhone, that fancy schmancy dashboard NAV systems with its yearly $300 map updates, have been replaced by Apple CarPlay. Or Google Maps with turn-by-turn voice navigation compliments of Siri. 

Did you know you can change Siri's voice and have it spoken it to you in various accents? I may not be politically correct on this matter, but I have chosen the Indian voice. Perhaps because I love Indian food. Perhaps because I am fascinated by Peloton's scenic rides throughout the Indian countryside. It is a beautiful country. Or perhaps because I still count Peter Sellers in The Party as one of my all time favorite movies

The onslaught of technology continues to gather steam like a Trump boat parade over Niagra Falls.

Even jobs once thought to be the domain of humans are falling like so many seditiuous J6 conspiracists. In days of yore, for example, cows, which are generally much cleaner than pigs and therefore on God's acceptable dining menu, would be lovingly washed by farm hands. 

Not anymore...  


See for yourself: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=K7yDrLCoLwU

I could even argue that I too was replaced by technology since my previous job required me to write Subject Lines, Pre-Headers and anodyne, useless, pun-laden newsletter copy that could easily have been written by ChatGPT. 

Why pay me, when an open source application can spit out perfectly serviceable, easily ignorable, spammy drivel and never ever run the risk of mentioning "swollen testicles" or "10 lbs. babies" or "Brazilian Bum Bum Cream?"  All, by the way, offenses that made someone in HR put yours truly, on The List.

I'm afraid the striking writers up the street at Sony Studios, the ones mentioned in Monday's blog post, are in for a rude awakening. 

If next generation AI can spit out scripts that are indistinguishable from the ones currently being incubated by studio heads, focus groups and liaisons from Heritage Foundation, why bother with these pesky people who want...gasp...to get paid?

Writers, who were once at the bottom of Hollywood's totem pole, may soon find themselves off the totem pole completely. 


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