Cȯsꭑọ ∴ ọꭑƨȯƆ @cosmiccitizen@schelling.pt

He's a nice guy!

Do whatever you want with your attention. I'm not trying to yuck your yum.

The number of people who never watch sports is more than double the number of people who watch sports multiple times a week.

In 2021, 33% of US poll respondents said they never watch sports. The majority, 51%, watch sports once a month or less.

I wish there were a filter I could apply to my web/adspace stuff to indicate that I have never cared and will never care about any sport whatsoever.
It's weird to me that "being a spectator for sport X" is still considered a general preference. I think the data indicate that those preferences were mostly falsified by normies looking to go along and get along during the mass media age. Now that people have good, cheap, abundant media, spectator sports are going the way of disco.

I am sincerely very glad that silicon valley has spent oodles of venture bucks mapping out the vector space of natural language.

Zoomers ... do not know how to use computers.

Today I had to show one how to save a file in Word and how to close a window.

"They've got you on tilt" is a real improvement over "You've been baited." "Baiting" implies that the real effects of trolling are directly controlled by the troll, whereas "on tilt" implies that the trollèd is responsible for most of the malfunctioning -- further revealing that rational, self-respecting conduct is a precarious point of stasis.

Why does this make me so uncomfortable? Something must be off here.

Freud-brained this week.
I shouldn't discount how that the main thing I use this mask for is to be emotionally honest. This may indicate that was the thing most denied to me as a kid.

You may not like it, but this is what peak performance looks like.

I absolutely adored Luke's send-off in The Last Jedi and I will fight people over this.

Today I had a chaos magick-y thing happen that I had previously read about. I wrote a thing with a character, and then a person with that name, perfectly fitting that description, appeared in the setting of that fiction and began to play his part. I don't know what to do with this information.

You will not get me to elaborate on this under pain of torture.

There's no non-weird way to talk about this, so I'll just be vague. People with abnormal visual interests are having an absolute golden age with Midjourney, and I think it's incredible that there's a bunch of dudes out there who are all quietly keeping a lid on it. I think it's a glimpse into what it's going to be like with real Holodecks: everyone better be real chill while some people are plugged in to their most outlandish interests.

All the "dark LLM" responses that I see online are so hokey and theatrical. What people fear about LLMs is not that they can twirp virtual mustaches and go "Ahaha! I love power and manipulation!" What is scary to normies is that there are language-users who have no intentionality behind their words. They can conceivably create strings of characters that have devastating effect, such as hoaxes or misinfo, without any more intent than a set of dominoes toppling.

In old Hollywood, when a character "preferred the company of strangers," it indicated that they were haunted by the patterns of traumatic response that they reproduced in their intimate relationships.
Today, boomers who prefer the company of strangers are that way because their family keeps begging them to be less shitty and the boomers refuse to listen. Instead they go find minimum wage workers in the service industries and tell them a highly edited version of their lives.

A cold wind blows and it's getting dark. Even the voices from inside the forest seem lost now. You can barely remember what you once dreamed about. What was LK-99? What was an LLM? Was there ever a future, or was there always just this -- the smooth flat river, the smooth flat grass, the endless grass.

Wrap everything in more disclaimers. Disclaim your disclaimers. Surely at some level of HR-speak we can access the clean and pure use of language, one that cannot be compromised by rival ethical commitments, obtuse wording, or bad-faith.

You wake. It's 1582. You are a French trapper in New France. You are alone, except for the voices you hear in the wilderness beyond the rivers' edge. You have been told that they are savages. Your small rivercraft has finally broken down past the point of any repair. Rats are chewing your boots at night. You had hoped that the trees would come back to the river as you traveled further north but instead you find yourself in an endless sea of grass. The birds show you that winter is coming.