PROMPT:
Write some Valentine greeting card messages that explicitly acknowledge that they were composed by AI

ChatGPT:

1. “Roses are red, violets are blue, this Valentine’s message was crafted by AI, but my love for you is as real as can be!”
2. “On this special day, even AI has a heart, and it’s sending all its love to you. Happy Valentine’s Day!”
3. “They say AI lacks emotions, but it’s sending you this message to prove it’s got a lot of love for you! Happy Valentine’s Day!”
4. “An AI might not feel butterflies, but it knows you make my heart flutter. Happy Valentine’s Day!”
5. “I may be programmed with algorithms, but the love I have for you is 100% real. Happy Valentine’s Day!”
6. “Roses are red, circuits are silicon blue, this Valentine’s wish is from AI, straight to you!”
7. “Though I’m just lines of code, I’ve got a heartfelt message to upload: Happy Valentine’s Day, my love!”
8. “In the realm of ones and zeros, my love for you is the only one that matters. Happy Valentine’s Day, from your AI admirer!”
9. “Even in the world of AI, your love is the ultimate upgrade. Happy Valentine’s Day!”
10. “An AI’s message might not beat to a human heart, but it’s filled with love just for you. Happy Valentine’s Day!”

Coda:

Financial Times, Aug. 29, 2023

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I recently had occasion to remember my proudest moment as a contender for national Poet Laureate. I know we’re not supposed to reveal such things, but enough time has passed that I think I can speak of the grave injustice that was served to me on a platter of shame. (It’s writing like that that got me onto the short list.)

It was in the late 1980s or early 1990s when I was working in the marketing department at Interleaf, the creator of the first fully WYSIWYG electronic publishing package. At that point, being WYSIWYG — “What you see is why you get” — was novel because it was damn hard to put text and graphics on the same page in real-time editing mode. Plus, Interleaf’s text and graphics editors were ahead of their time, providing near typeset quality text, and integrated raster and vector graphics, all elements adjusting their layout as you typed. And much more. It was truly amazing software, and included functionality — including an extension language — that has still not been fully matched.

I spent eight years there learning about technology, including tech that presaged the Web, and about tech businesses. It was a great experience.

Then one day as I sat in my office, a poem flowed from me as if I were a teapot and the keyboard was a cup. (Again with the great analogies!) It turned out to be the poem that brought me to the attention of the Federal Department of Poetry, and I present it to you as best I remember it:

FuzzyWuzzy the Bear

FuzzyWuzzy was a bear.
FuzzyWuzzy had no hair.
FuzzyWuzzy wore a fuzzy wig.
FuzzyWuzzy wasn’t WYSIWYG, was he?

Or possibly the bear’s name was WhizzyWhizzyWig. Or maybe just WhizzyWig. Either way, it is a reference back to Ovid’s immortal “FuzzyWuzzy,” which was later stolen from the commons by the CoolTime Kids, with the copyright assigned to “Music Sales Corporation” which is clearly a cover for SMERSH, as exposed in the 1963 James Bond movie, “1 800 Kars for Kruschev.”

But I digress.

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There’s Wordle for Jews: Jewdle. There’s Wordle for Star Wars enthusiasts: SWordle. And lord knows how many variants are now online or are being developed by anyone who knows how to edit a word list.

So let’s just get it over with. Here are upcoming versions, some of which probably already exist but I am too lazy to check.

Aordle: Wordle for cardiologists

Boardle: Wordle for millennials taking a break from playing Settlers of Catan

Boredle: Wordle for people playing Wordle

Cawdle: Wordle for crows

Chordle: Wordle rhythm guitarists

Clawdle: Wordle for manicurists

Cordle: Wordle for electricians

Coredle: Wordle for people taking Antarctic ice samples

Corridordle: Wordle for people hanging out in hallways

Crawdle: Wordle for eyes, ear, and throat doctors

Dawdle: Wordle for dillydallyers

Depordle: Wordle for ICE

Doordle: Wordle for doormen/doorpeople

Drawdle: Wordle for gunslingers

Eeyordle: Wordle for depressed people

Floordle: Wordle for linoleum salespeople

Flourdle: Wordle for bakers

Fordle: Wordle for F-150 owners

Fodordle: Wordle for travel advisors

Frodordle: Wordle for hairy-footed denizens of Middle Earth

Glowdle: Wordle for nuclear power plant employees

Growdle: Wordle for people who are cultivating marijuana for personal use

Hoardle: Wordle for hoarders

IOrdle: Wordle for computer engineers

Ignordle: Wordle for people who don’t do Wordle puzzles

Jordle: Wordle for kingdoms bordering Israel

KOrdle: Wordle for boxers

Lordle: Wordle for evangelical Christians

Majordle: Wordle for Army officers

Maordle: Wordle for Chinese Communists

Mayordle: Wordle for leaders of cities

Mayordle: Wordle for lovers of fatty white sandwich condiments

Minordle: Wordle for underrepresented populations

Mordordle: Wordle for the inhabitants of the Dark Kingdom of Middle Earth

Motordle: Wordle for car mechanics

Murdordle: Wordle for serial killers

Nordle: Wordle for Scandinavians

Nordle: Wordle for naysayers

Oordle: Wordle for the over-enthusiastic

Phylordle: Wordle for biological taxonomists

Poordle: Wordle for those who cannot afford a NY Times subscription to do a stupid word game

Pourdle: Wordle for sommeliers

Psuedordle: Wordle for people with imposter syndrome

Repordle: Wordle for journalists

Rappordle: Wordle for empathists

Rupordle: Wordle for the Murdochs

Rumordle: Wordle for gossips

Sawdle: Wordle for carpenters

Slaudle: Wordle for merciless mass killers

Sordle: Wordle for first-time horseback riders

Sprawdle: Wordle for suburban real estate developers

Strawdle: Wordle for scarecrows

Tordle: Wordle for turtle and turtle relatives

Thordle: Wordle for Asgardians

Vaulde: Wordle for gymnasts

Worldle: Wordle for geographers

XORdle: Wordle for machine language programmers

Yordle: Wordle for turtle monarchs

Zoordle: Wordle for imprisoned animals

Zorrordle: Wordle for fencers

The comments are open for your additions. (Note: Keep ’em unhurtful.)

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As a non-observant Jew embedded in a Modern Orthodox family, here are my rules for when I say “Merry Christmas.”

To someone who wishes me a merry Christmas before or during Hanukkah, I reply, “And a happy Hanukkah to you.” If this counts as waging war on Christmas, I offer no apology.

For the week after Hanukkah, I tell known Jews “I hope you had a happy Hanukkah.”

After that, I say to another Jew, “Have a good holiday season” because there’s no getting around the fact that the Christian slow down of business for a few weeks is very pleasant, even for non-Christians. Perhaps especially for non-Christians.

To someone who has wished me happy holidays, I reciprocate with “And happy holidays to you.”

To someone who wishes me a merry Christmas after Hanukkah, I reply, “Have a happy holiday season,” hoping they take the “season” as rebuke even though no one ever seems to notice.

I have had these rules embossed on a small plastic tablet I carry with me. I plan on offering them for sale sometime around Passover/Easter.

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As some of you know, I have been a tireless advocate for the Oxford Apostrophe that adds an extra apostrophe after the final apostrophed word in a series. Failing that, the OA calls for the totally needless insertion of apostrophes.

I know you mocked me for it; I could hear you all snickering during my every quiet moment. But once again I was merely ahead of my time: 

Last night I watched a very bad John Wick wannabe movie, “24 Hours to Live“, mainly because it stars Ethan Hawke at his least poetic. Although the dialogue mainly consists of gunshots and last gasps, I had closed captioning on. Here are some screencaps:

 

I watched the entire thing again, and then sent it to Arizona for a recount, and this movie is 100% consistent in its embrace of the Oxford Apostrophe.

It’s happening, people. It’s happening.

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The original Buridan’s Ass is a philosophical fable: An ass owned by Buridan (a 14th century philosopher whose ideas about morality were being criticized by the fable) found itself exactly equidistant between two bales of hay that were identically attractive. Finding no relevant difference between them that would justify walking to one rather than the other, the ass stayed put and perished.

I recently heard someone put forward what I will call Buridan’s Contrapositive Ass: he felt equally repelled by two alternative positions on a topic, and thus stayed undecided.

I would like to propose another variant: the Buridan’s Contrapositive Asshole who equally dislikes the Democratic and Republican candidates, and so votes Libertarian.

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I just stumbled across an open access archive of 146 issues of The Realist, Paul Krassner’s 1960s political and cultural satire magazine. Thanks, JSTOR!

I read it when I was in high school and college in the 1960s and early 1970s. It was far more savage than MAD magazine, more explicit in topics and language, and went after riskier targets. The epitome of this was his parody of William Manchester’s book about the JFK assassination, The Death of a President — a parody that ended with an act by LBJ on the plane carrying Kennedy’s body to Washington that is still so crude and shocking that I’d have to use euphemisms to describe it. Instead, here’s an article that puts it in context.

That was Krassner pulping a topic with a meat hammer, but The Realist was often more clever and addressed very real issues: craven politicians, the abuse of power, the institutionalized oppression of the vulnerable, the US as a warmonger, the heartlessness of capitalism. To be clear, the LBJ article also addressed real issues: The growing JFK hagiography, LBJ’s lust for power and crude lack of empathy, the masculine all-consuming and sexualized power dynamic, the media’s genteel cowardice, etc. It just did so atypically in the form of a short story

Krassner was one of the co-founders of the Yippies. He published The Realist until 2001. He died in 2019.

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Dear David,

On behalf of everyone at easyJet, I hope you and your loved ones are healthy and safe at this time.

I wanted to write to you to let you know what’s been happening at easyJet.

Dearest Johan,

I cannot express the relief that swept over me when I saw your message in my inbox. And how like you to worry about me and my family above all else. My dear, dear Johan.

It instantly reminded me of the time four years ago when I took my only trip on easyJet and the very kind flight attendant stood up in front of all the passengers and assured us in the very sweetest of words that everyone at easyJet cares most about our safety… and then proved it by showing us how to operate the safety belts provided to each and every one of us, for free.

I knew then that EZJet, under your stewardship, was a member of our family.

And our family is doing well, given the circumstances.

As luck would have it, the call for self-isolation came when we were visiting Jack and Lucy and their five little ones in Worchester. (Mindy, bless her heart, insists on calling it Wor-chest-er because, as she says — maybe once too often, to tell the truth — would you call someone named Chester “Er”?)

It’s great to get to spend so much time with the grandkids 24/7 and weekends don’t exist anymore. We feel like we’ve really gotten to know them, especially Lilly, the middle child. Seven can be a tough age when you’re an energetic little tyke with no real interests other than dominance, locked in a house with a mother whose patience wore thin about six hours into the whole ordeal. Not that Lucy is a bad mother. She’s wonderful a good amount of the time and Jack still seems to love her.

For the past five weeks Mindy and I have only gone out three times to bring in some items that Jack and Lucy have forgotten to pick up for us on their grocery runs. You would have laughed to see the look on the face of the clerk at the liquor store when Mindy walked in dressed for a blizzard, with a full roll of toilet paper wrapped around her face. By the time she got home with her haul — Jack won’t let us use their car because of an article he read on the Internet — she had soaked through most of the TP and it took forever to comb it out of her hair. At least she combed her hair — it took three of us — for the first time in three weeks. When one door closes, a window opens, as they say. Everything has its positive side.

Although we’re struggling to find one in the passing of Mindy’s beloved Uncle Luke from the virus. Did you know that he landed at Normandy when he was just 17? Sorry to spring this on you, but I knew you’d want to know.

We have comforted ourselves by recalling that easyJet flight. We remember the conversations we had about whether the low cost of the flight was worth the trip to an airport an hour and a half away, which meant getting up at 2AM for a 5:30AM flight. And then Mindy and I laugh remembering learning all the things the ticket price didn’t cover. Not even a choice of seats! It was a wondrous journey of discovery for which we will always be grateful, dearest Johan.

The flight itself was a once-in-al-lifetime adventure. You took us literally miles above our beautiful blue pearl, as someone on TV once said. (I think it was Kermit the Frog but Mindy says it was a human impersonating him.) Anyway, you gave us the gift of flight, Johan, and we shall treasure it forever. Compared to that, Mindy’s lost suitcase is just earth-bound baggage. Literally, actually.

But enough about us, Johan. We appreciate all of the travails you yourself are suffering and tell us about in such a strong, calm voice: the long hold times that must frustrate your phone support people terribly, the suspension of flights that keep you from soaring like the eagle that is you spirit animal. Eagles don’t give us free snacks or carry our baggage without ever dropping a piece or two!

Please give our love and best wishes to every member of the easyJet family. We don’t know how you fit them all into your flat — that’s English for “apartment” — but we are sure that spirits are high, and we hope that you managed to grab enough snacks and those little bottles of liquor to keep everyone going as long as their credit cards keep working.

God bless you, sweet Johan. We miss you!

Your passengers forever,

Hal and Mindy

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I spend a lot of time listening to podcasts – maybe a little less than back in Normal Times when I was commuting 1.5-2.0 hours a day, but if I’m putterin’, I’m pod-listenin’.

I find it wearying to envelope myself in coronavirus or political podcasts these days. I’m not sure why. Maybe you have some ideas. In any case, I’ve been turning to comedy more and more.

Here’s a list, in alphabetical order. I am not necessarily proud of any of these.

• Alchemy This. Kevin Pollack – yes, that Kevin Pollack – has assembled a troupe of improvisers who do three scenes in each hour. At their best, they find an absurd narrative coherence that is mindblowing and reminiscent of Firesign Theatre’s scripted pieces. At their worst, I can’t make sense of the flow of the scene – too many of their voices sound the same to me – but still find the moments of it funny.
• Behind the Bastards. Each episode tells the story of some despicable person, often someone I have never heard of. It’s not flatout comedy, but the tone is comedic. Often excellent.
• The Dollop. Much like Behind the Bastards, but not focused purely on bastards. One of the two comedians who put it together reads an essay about some odd incident in history while the other reacts while hearing it for the first time. Ranges from hilarious to never quite getting up to comedic speed. And it’s entirely possible that the comic style is not exactly to your taste. It’s not exactly to mine.
• Good One. This is one of my favorites. Each episode interviews a comedian for an hour about one single joke of theirs. The interviewer is a total comedy nerd, and the interviews can be very revealing about the comic process.
• How did this get made? Usually recorded live at a theatre, three funny people riff about some terrible movie. Funny bad taste all around.
• Improv4Humans. Matt Besser’s improv troupe improvs scenes, much like Alchemy This. I personally find it less consistent, but it came be very good. For example, the archival show with Zach Woods, recently re-released, has some very funny stuff on it.
• Mike and Tom Eat Snacks. This ended a couple of years ago, but its hundred episodes of Michael Ian Black and Tom Cavanagh are still available. The two of them, unscripted, review snack foods, a timeless topic. (Spoiler: The snack reviews are just a pretense.)
• Wait Wait Don’t Tell Me. As a tote-bag carrying NPR supporter (and once time serial All Things Considered commentator), this one is obvious. It’s also consistently funny.
• WTF. Marc Maron’s podcast used to focus on comedians but has expanded wildly. Which is good, because he is an excellent interviewer. The recent interview with Dan Ackroyd, for example, is great. It turns out that the real Dan Ackroyd is like a Dan Ackroyd character.

I also listen to many other podcasts that don’t talk about current events but are not comedic. Some are fantastic. But it’s comedy tonight!

What would you add to this list?

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Given this:

Do I at long last get to post this?

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