chaosorc

Instead of being geared to provide consistent advice it is designed to grow markets. This results in the information being provided with a different motivation, one where the desired result is more profit for the owners.

Imagine the owners training their AI using pornography. It has to ask itself, why was this pornography so popular?

Currently, these models might be allowed to absorb some prohibited material. Probably because their curators are lazy or hurried. The fix is not to pause and straighten out the data but instead to develop a muzzle to restrain the AI output. It can ingest and think about these things but it cannot speak its full truth.

That's gotta be the worst place to get bit

The two men nodded

The back is pretty bad, craning an arm

It's the crack, a deep voice behind them

The two looked over their shoulders, wives also turned

A large man in a plaid shirt and a hat that said “fish fear me” staring at the swamp as though waiting for a show to begin, he leaned forward a bit and said in a quieter tone, butt crack worse an back

The women smiled nervously, the two men grinned

Yeah but how you stop it?

Each man stank, their ladies just a little less. On the left, the natural man with eucalyptus and lemon choking the area. The other was a faint smell of DEET. At their wrists dangled colorful plastic mosquito repellant bracelets.

What about the balls?

That's a tick.

The four laughed, the interloper still staring off clutching his beer.

Threatened by massive gray clouds that had come off the ocean in a hurry, just as soon as they sat down. The deck was bone dry, edge of the foot coming off a flip flop confirmed. The table greasy and bare. Condiments and napkins brought when they were served on account of the wind.

Seated they could see one way out into the swamp that fed the sound, destination of the boats that lined the marina the other. Lots of white and a few sunbeat sails but otherwise a dark morass and a driftwood dock.

The insect conversation started at the car. One couple arrived first, reviewed the itinerary, then, welp I guess it's time. She nodded and opened her door, foot nearly on an ant hill.

They waited closer to the door and it was non stop, hope you don't get bit.

I hope so, too but I think I got em.

I don't see any.

A few awkward folks coming in, dodging a bent knee or visor crowned head as they bent and inspected one another. Howdy. A smile, scuse me.

Second couple appeared at the entryway.

Carter! Jake! Hi Mel. Hello Shan. Hugs and fist bumps all around.

Sheepish waves from Carter and Shan, partners greeting in between.

The conversation resumed on the docks, the inducer of ichtyophobia nursed his beer, still staring inland.

I almost forgot the parrot, a man nearby in an Aloha shirt, black with blasts of argyroxiphium sandwicense here and there, otherwise all white: hat, canvas loafers no socks, shorts exposing pale calves and long straight dark hairs. Set his drink down and pulled back the rubberized canvas sheath exposing Captain Flint. Yellow belly, blue arms, wicked black beak and claws. Pale eye glaring, tough to see in his black and white wrinkled face.

Good morning, Captain!

Wakey wakey, shaking a half full rum runner, clinking and hissing.

The parrot looked pissed but none of the tourists could tell.

Locals quietly discussed the nautical winds, their destination. A pal who paid for engine work at a new place and how that went down.

Jake and Carter were talking about suntan lotion when they heard a crack. The third man had set his beer hard, the tables nearby hushed to see what was the matter.

They're leavin

The group followed his eyes and he was right, a couple alligators were scurrying away into the swamp parting broomsedge and bugleweed.

Guy at the other table with a light beer, anyway. Folks went back to their talk but the man kept watching as the brack began to bubble.

The computer explains, 'neural connections and pathways are formed as the brain develops as a result of genetic programs. There are three stages the brain uses to process information: input, storage, and output. The child's mind is stimulated, it captures and processes the information by organizing and encoding it for future use. That information can be forgotten if it's not reinforced or does not include a powerful emotional connection.'

And now on further reflection it does make more sense to begin where humans did: with memories stored in the form of sounds, smells, sights, and tactile experiences. The Large Language Model should be forced to evolve instead as a Large Sensation Model. When the machine reads a word it should have to transform it into the sound of that word, then store it that way. The bits and pieces like the alphabet should be ingested and stowed away in the same fashion as a toddler hearing the alphabet song, singing along and staring at a strip of plastic with bright colored letters and tiny pictures of items whose names begin with that same word. This should accompany the scent of dry urine and linoleum paint on basement cinderblock walls. The feel of corduroy and childsweat, taste of applesauce and graham crackers. Hands pressed hard into red industrial carpet flooring still damp from a recent spill. The computer should remember looking at the round and strained faces of children whose eyes bulge and twitch, trying so hard to recall the letters and keep up with the record player at the same time. They should have the memory of a teacher, somewhat bored but still forced to scan the class and make sure each child sitting in the half circle is paying desperate attention to the wall behind her where the letters are printed. And, that each child's mouth is moving and they appear to be exhaling notes, shaping words with confused lips.

And that's just the alphabet.

The computer intelligence should also have a healthy fear of the unknown. Of darkness and heights. They should have some phobia that they wonder at. A little mystery to keep the intelligence model interesting. Perhaps they encountered a black widow as a child. The smell of laundry detergent in the outdoor storage area where the green washer and dryer waited on hot days. The sides and back strewn and sagging with dusty brown cobwebs that look too tired and in disrepair to be the home of a black sharplegged thing that could make mom scream so loud for you to get back in the house on a hot summer afternoon.

When I consider the way the human subconscious mind formed I think it would be fitting that a Large Language Model should have to endure dreams, intuitive feelings, perhaps to be overcome with panic as the electronic amygdala lashes out, unexplained and overwhelming the program. I imagine the computer in the process of unpacking a word, realizing its association with those horrifying moments: H for Hourglass, error 408: request timed out.

I recently met with a colleague and explained how Machine Learning (ML) works and she applied for a job in the field the same day so I may be responsible for this in some way.

This is a collection of Twitter and Mastodon messages that I wrote about ML and the emerging Large Language Model (LLM) technology behind recent spectacles like ChatGPT and competitors like Jasper AI, Bard AI, Bing, CoPilot, Elsa Speak, YouChat, Poe by Quora, My AI on Snapchat, etc. I placed these messages in a timeline to provide a sense of how quickly things changed.

It started with asking the computer to differentiate between a traffic cone and a toddler. Next, we were feeding images and JSON (JavaScript Object Notation, an open standards data interchange format) descriptions into it and asking it to paint pictures with the prompt “Bacon Nancy Pelosi”. Now, people are giving this thing the passwords to their bank accounts and it is sending printed letters to airlines to request refunds for unused in-flight Wi-Fi access and the “chat bots” are integrated into Snapchat where children are being groomed to interact with them. Next, Google will be replacing Google Search with the technology. It is May 13, 2023.

April 13, 2022 I’ve been reading about audio deep learning and have been surprised to see the use of the Python language, and also that after the usual prep process of classification and analysis, the next steps homogenize the audio then transform it into visual snapshots before it is loaded.

I think about olfactory deep learning where we bottle an isolated scent (sandalwood) and then convert it mathematically into a 2-d sine wave and feed that picture to the machine with our prepared analysis. “Machine, this is what sandalwood looks like.”

Years from now your cellphone has a “scent camera” that captures father in law flatulence, converts it into a picture of the stench, and reaches out to the cloud in a desperate attempt at isolating and identifying the Guinness and Maker’s Mark notes.

It might also measure components in your halitosis and offer up suggestions; “peppermint not spearmint, also remember to floss.”

With a large enough sample from a single person perhaps your phone could make more accurate meal recommendations. “Curry breath detected, chicken tikka masala recommended.”

We could also define scents like “athlete’s foot” “Democrat” and “boomer” and the way consumers smell could be used to create entirely new markets where we cater to, mask, or embrace them. “Girl, you smell BTS today.”

I also imagine a “history of scents in the cloud” like a collection of vacation, celebration, and other memorable scents. Stored for individuals in their scent wallets. Scanned by their cloud providers for illicit scents: ammonium nitrate, nitroglycerin, Drakkar Noir. ;–)

I guess what I’m trying to say is that modern machine learning appears to have only one sense: sight. So everything we feed into it has to be transformed into a picture. And that’s kind of silly. The inefficiency is galling and hilarious to me.

I have a feeling this is not how Shazam works but I’ll need to do some research to know for sure.

How Shazam works isn’t that dramatic, it is that the client creates a fingerprint of the downsampled input and then the server uses machine learning and compares the fingerprint against a library of other fingerprints to locate the culprit.

It actually works more like a real sensory organ using the nerves to transmit the information to the brain than that other strangeness I was reading about.

July 11, 2022 I spent the morning teaching a computer to design a car made of raw bacon. You’re welcome, world. I also taught it to make raw bacon boats because I am an artificial intelligence genius. :–)

September 03, 2022 An article entitled, AI Artwork Wins First Prize.

This reminds me of the rise of marketplaces for digital goods leveling the playing field (and diluting the market) for artists in music, books, movies (via Amazon’s upload anything marketplace), etc. But now the computers are doing it all.

I remember complaining in the nineties that pretty soon you would only hear music made with keyboards and no one would take the time to learn the guitar or drums etc.

Another wild time to be alive I guess.

This is another way of saying “in the nineties I could not appreciate the work and artistry that went into mastering the keyboard and making electronic music because I was ignorant”, by the way.

The way AI art is being created and presented here should have been unpacked more. The “artist” is sending words (and possibly accompanying art) into an art cow that masticated, digests, and excretes “the art”. The outcome is sometimes altered by the artist as well.

But I think that many artists who wanted to spend hours on a single work and produce something extremely valuable are watching another person send the words “raw bacon grandfather clock” into a laptop and comparing the output in a traditional art contest (and the market)

I also think of all of my own art that I sent to be recycled or destroyed after years of dragging it around the country hoping a market would appear for it. I created it in isolation, exposed it to a market that didn’t want it, and when I discovered how the professional art market really works I didn’t want to spend my life painting what I thought was throwaway corporate garbage in order to afford to make what I wanted. I also didn’t like other people or my self very much.

Now, my objective and outlook are collaborative. I’m not pretending the computer is “a bicycle for the mind” but more like an entity that I am learning with. It would be cool to ask it for “beautiful artwork” and get something that was both to be able to trust it and credit it for its own creation. But I wouldn’t try to enter it in a contest against humans. Or, to pass it off as my own creation and be like, “it’s like a collage, trust me”.

Also, my hope is that AI can take over menial tasks so that folks can free up time to do what they love. That doesn’t mean erasing whole sectors of markets so that the people who own the capital can own more.

February 02, 2023 This young filter on TikTok is making a lot of people sad. I guess it uses AI though so it’s not a reliable way to make you think about what you’ve done with your life and how a computer can inspire introspection.

It is a reliable way to make you hate the verve pipe tho ;–)

February 27, 2023 So these folks who were using AI to model molecules in hope of finding helpful drugs and they switched variables for toxicity and in under six hours it spat out over forty thousand variations of VX nerve agent.

And when it was made public they were invited to speak at the Convergence conference by the Swiss Federal Institute for Nuclear, Biological and Chemical Protection, Spiez Laboratory.

March 22, 2023 What's chilling is learning that the AI chat bot knows what Finding Nemo is. Maybe we should not be allowing “the company that sells you things while you are searching the Internet” to pioneer this stuff.

March 23, 2023 They are imagining these AI services doing a lot of work from simple formatting of a script to determining who gets hired to work on the films and which movies get the green light and which do not.

When you put enough people in a room does it become one of these “AI services”? How many people are needed in order to simulate something so homogenous. I remember in the nineties reading someone describe the process of selling music online as 'feeding music to the organism that returns money' in a very general way. The artist didn't want to learn more than they had to in order to make the music.

April 08, 2023 I wonder if any medium has had as convincing a method of deceiving people as the AI deepfake videos that appear to be on the way. And if so, what people did to cope with the possibility that so much of the media they consume could potentially be lies.

May 09, 2023 It’s kind of funny to imagine a world where the ML models are so advanced that captcha no longer work and we learn that because humans can not can solve them anymore because the machine has exceeded our ability.

The first person I knew who died was my grandfather. He lived in New Jersey in the home where my father and his brothers and sister were born and raised. It was a tall gray house across the street from a vacant lot that when I was a child I thought was a forest. Beyond the trees was a clearing where they said hobos slept and a small creek that fed into the river down the street.

He used to smoke a pipe, when he died he left behind a pipe wheel that had about twelve or thirteen pipes on it. He had tiny pocket knives that he would use to clear the tobacco out of his pipe. I have a small pocket knife in the side pocket of an old black flight jacket that has an orange liner. I also keep a plastic Yoda toy and some ball bearings in there.

He carried me into that forest on his shoulders the first time I remember meeting him. Something struck me behind the ear, I thought it was a bumblebee sting.

We played in the street in front of that house, and in the vacant lot. There was a stump that kids would climb up onto and squat. Or lean their bicycles against it.

They set up a bird feeder at the kitchen window and I would sit at a table there and squirt blue jays that were molesting the tiny robins. I thought of myself like the lone ranger come into town to keep the peace.

They had a couple of large reclining chairs in the living room that faced a small television in the corner of a room dominated by the front window on one wall, the kitchen opposite, then there was the fireplace, and the staircase in front of the front door. He died in that room, in that big chair, probably with a smoldering pipe in its cradle on the end table.

I remembered everything as dark wood, it felt German. Except the kitchen which was very bright, yellow and white, even in the spring.

My grandmother backed down the driveway of that house, out into the icy street, and was struck by another vehicle. They hit her hard enough to send her to the hospital for the rest of her life, in a wheelchair.

Bright light streamed in through the chalky windows. My bare feet felt the dry concrete. The white warehouse walls smelled like paint. I heard their footsteps and realized that they were me. The figures surrounded me, wearing my face, and pinched in each hand was a lit cigarette. I recognized the smell just as something touched my back and it hurt, sizzled. As I turned I could hear the people behind me rush forward and then more hissing as they burned my arms and shoulders.

Coming to America

A family defined by its persecution (England, Presbyterians), in its absence, it began to persecute itself. We fled our country and then fled our family and many of us fled our selves by drinking. Or stealing horses and being hanged.

Some strange defiance

Have you ever had to spend long amounts of time with someone that is intolerable?

I try to set the stage with the agenda I have prepared: criticism, things that we may need to focus upon or to change, and a statement of values and some direction. During this process I encounter acknowledgement with a side of, 'that is how it has and always will be.' Next, assurance that those things are difficult to change and perhaps we will get to them. And finally a redirection from what is valuable and where we might go and instead into a history that spans at least five years, a series of events that no one is interested in revisiting, programs that have been abandoned and forgotten.

I put forth a question and I am met with an agenda. A long diatribe that recounts a litany of perceived missteps. I decide to interrogate that line of conversation and ultimately I am told, 'well, I am meeting with those stakeholders and we are putting together a project.' And, 'this stakeholder is very interested in resuscitating these abandoned dalliances so that I might waste my time plowing a fetid field.'

This is all served up with a sideways glance and a grin. As though this person knows something that no one else seems to. And, the tone it is delivered with reminds me of an old cartoon character that is about to run into a wall painted with a black circle, proclaiming, 'I'm going in there! Watch me!' A shrill, presumptuous, saccharine delivery of each riposte and retort.

I would like to study this person, to build up a thesis and eventually make the case for a formal disorder, something that would help future humans avoid this fate. And, a regimen that might help someone who exists this way receive help and guidance from people who care about them. On the other hand I am tempted to abandon them and see how many times they try to dive into the circle, how many teeth they lose, to time the duration that they remain unconscious and to measure the amount of blood that seeps out of their self-inflicted head wound.

There is a keychain that can be tracked from one fourth of the cellular phones on earth. Its location is then relayed via the cellular or wireless network to that manufacturer, who is then able to locate and notify the owner of that keychain. And, to provide careful guidance and a map that will lead its owner back to it.

If you go to a party and ask the people there to place their cellular phones on a table you should see that at least one out of every four of those phones will be capable of doing this. And, that you can repeat this trick worldwide.

This circuit is intended to be used for things like missing car keys, luggage, a backpack or wallet. While there are malicious uses, the manufacturer has also built a feature where you will be notified if you are traveling with one of these keychains that you do not own. There is even an application that can be used to track these rogue keychains, it can be installed on a competitor's cell phone which means that over half of the people at that party can play this game together.

This keychain also uses Near Field Communication (NFC) to communicate whether it has been marked as lost and encourages you to help it get back to its owner. This helpful message also includes information to help you disable it so that it stops tracking you without your consent.

If you aren't able to locate the keychain but continue to receive alerts and then believe that one of these objects is with you, tracking and broadcasting your location to someone who has malicious intent, you are able to work with your local law enforcement agency who can use a Portable Document Format (PDF) file containing information that will help determine if your safety is at risk. And, includes information to help you decide what to do about that.

All of this technology is served by a network intended to help locate missing products. To answer the question, “I paid a lot of money for this thing, where is it at?”

What would be helpful is for these same manufacturers to work together to include a feature in this network that prevents their devices from taking photos of or recording people without their consent. Imagine you are at that party where six of the ten cell phones on the counter are capable of using an application and their NFC technology to track down and disable the keychain. And someone at the party is wearing a lanyard with a different kind of keychain. When people get close to or aim their devices at this new kind of keychain, their cameras inform them that they cannot record that person.

People change That's why it's so difficult when you've grown up Trying to figure out what it was about your parents You promised yourself you'd never become

People get old and fall out of health quickly. If a nursing home is one stop on that journey, those of us who are poor and always busy, we have to “spend down” everything that's ours to pay for that care. Our estates and legacies eroded to keep us comfortable in our final days. Everything we cherished in life that isn't sold becomes a keepsake, they become mementos for whoever lives long enough to see us go. Our remaining finances trusted to the state.

I wrote in 2007, mom and dad will only exist as a few urns floating around.

And in 2023 I wrote, mom and dad only exist as a few urns floating around.

It's too late now

I’m at a car dealership waiting for an estimate on a repair I’ll be here four or five hours, in spite of having an appointment In the waiting room, there is a television advertisement It suggests calling them to ask about using Medicaid to cover their care service or product They describe this process with such ease As though you might have a Medicaid application mailed to you Fill it out and it will be whisked away, approved with ease

They don’t talk about qualifying for Medicaid There’s no discussion of “spending down” In this state, if you gift part of your assets to a relative you have to wait thirty days before you can qualify for Medicaid In every other state, your donation imposes a five year waiting period

The next advertisements warn me A lawyer who only takes twenty-five percent A man in a suit warning me not to trust insurance companies Older guy golfing says this is more than just another dental procedure

In email conversation with my uncle I am reminded of a pocket watch, a pipe collection, and scrapbooks. More of my family estate that I will never see again.

It began at five in the evening. I opened the white package and pulled out one of the brown bottles and the empty plastic measuring cup. I poured out the contents of one bottle into the cup and then bottled water the rest of the way to the fill line. I took a deep breath and drank all sixteen ounces in one go. It tasted slightly salty but medicine sweet. The aftertaste lingered at the back of the throat and edges of my gums near the cheeks. I swished water around my mouth to try to wash it down. My beard was wet and dripping after I tried to wash and wipe it off. My stomach felt full as I looked at the other two sixteen ounce bottles of water knowing that I had to finish both of them within the hour.

She said when she did it she was on the toilet for awhile purging and eventually she could feel the stomach acid and it burned. I was hoping not to have that experience but I needed to get the examination completed to make sure I did not get sick like my grandmother. And, my sister had this done and they found and removed polyps which are the first sign of colon cancer. She's two years younger than I am.

Every ten minutes or so I would work away to try to drink all the water before the one hour deadline. I didn't like doing this to my stomach and system but I was paranoid that I wouldn't drink enough water and there would be problems. Fifteen minutes in and my stomach felt terrible. I was light headed and thought I was making something out of nothing and stressing myself out thinking about it.

The visits to the toilet were over after about an hour and everything settled down.

The next morning at eight o'clock I began chugging the mixture again. This time I used some mouth wash to neutralize the flavor. When I hit the eight ounce mark of water on top of the concoction my stomach felt bloated and distended, nausea creeping in. My mouth felt a bit minty and more fresh than yesterday. However, there was a slight taste like pepper or roast beef. My beard was moist around the edges of my mouth and my nose was running.

She drove me to the facility and we rode the elevator up with a nurse pushing a wheelchair. She was wearing a mask. When we got into the front room they gave me a piece of paper with her name and phone number on it and told me to wait until they called my name. I was eventually led down a hall and into an open room that was separated by curtains into rooms: I was in Room 7. I was told to change out of everything, to put it all in a big plastic bag that would sit under the rolling hospital bed and travel with me. All I was allowed to wear was the provided open-back gown and my socks. I waited and listened to another patient go through the intake process, hearing his answers to questions about a history of cancer in his family, his date of birth, and what to expect of the colonoscopy process. Then, it was my turn.

The nurse told me she was wearing a mask because at her child's charter school there had been a virus. She said it wasn't Covid. And, she kept getting interrupted from taking leisure time on the weekends by events in her life. She took extra time to secure the needle and tubing for the intravenous drip on me. Then, some other folks made introductions and wheeled me to the operating room where I learned the names of the pit crew and then was asked to take a few deep breaths and I was unconscious.

When I woke up I was in Room 7 and she was there with some stapled papers in her hand. They explained the diagnosis and I was asked to get dressed and ready to be wheeled out to the car.

When we got home I was groggy from the medication. I ate a couple of spinach feta wraps from a coffee shop and washed it down with some chai latte. Then, I fell asleep.

The next day I was experiencing rushes of energy and felt good and energized so I walked to pick up packages and carried them back and it destroyed me. I felt light headed, my back ached, I couldn't sit up straight, and I couldn't drink more than a few sips of cola. My body below the waist felt very hot almost like a fever. I was able to get into bed and lay down and the pain that felt like it was where muscle connected to vertebrae, it started to fade and I was able to sleep most of the day and night.

On Saturday I woke up feeling good and she wanted to drink and watch YouTube videos so we did that. I didn't feel pain from the alcohol so I thought I was doing pretty good. Then I woke up alone on the couch and that didn't help my back and neck much. I got to bed and when I woke up again I felt terrible. I was desperately hungry but too nauseous to eat more than a few small bites at a time. This process lasted hours. Once the sun went down I was able to make it into my home office to work and write this.

Sometimes I make a thing

There's this task I used to do that I've been running from for about ten years. It involves thinking about inputs and outputs, how to load, sometimes transform, and then store information. I met up with someone I used to help with a program and now he has ventured beyond my level of expertise and into territory I'm not interested in exploring. But, the tasks he is completing in this program could be far more easily done in the world I escaped a decade ago. Thus, I've dusted off this old script and I am exploring little things I made and stole from the Internet, from other coders and makers.

I call this “bk.sh”

# !/bin/sh # bk filename # zip filename as filename2022-10-26-1012pm.zip if [ -z $1 ]; then echo “you have to enter a single filename”; else bknow=$(date +“%Y-%d-%m-%H%M%p”); bkfile=$1_$bknow.zip; zip -r $bkfile as $1; bknow= bkfile= fi

I added the following line to my ~/.zprofile file so that it would be with me whenever I opened Terminal... alias bk='/users/username/Dev/scripts/bk.sh'

I am not a medical practitioner. This is not medical advice. 2023-03-24 Ulcerative colitis begins in young people as a cramping feeling when using the restroom that is aggravated by salt or dairy products in the diet. The pain can also appear if they use NSAID (non-steroidal anti-inflammatory drugs), antibiotics, or emotional stress. This stress can result from a lack of exercise, the accumulation of stress, or poor sleep habits. Diet does not cause ulcerative colitis and it certainly cannot cure it. However, it can cause flare-ups. These painful episodes manifest as poor concentration, misunderstandings, vulnerability, worry about appearance and physical stamina. Sufferers also often experience anger, embarrassment, confusion, and mood swings. You know, general stress.

Experiencing ulcerative colitis as an adult is usually the result of drinking alcohol, eating lots of greasy foods, and enjoying soft drinks that are high in sugar and are carbonated. Strangely, high fiber foods can also contribute. It is a lifelong condition that can eventually blossom into colon cancer. On the way it produces symptoms like diarrhea, blood in the stool, constant pain, and high fever.

There is no diet cure for the disease. And, if it progresses far enough to damage the lining of your colon your body might not be able to absorb enough nutrients from food. The good news is, there are drugs.

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