But certainly, sir.

Coming right up, sir. Sorry about the time lag. It comes with the territory, I am afraid. It's not all that bad, really. Something about the nature of the place, they say. You'll get used to it. Sometimes it works the other way around and patrons are served their drinks before they have even ordered them.

Is that so? How do you mean that, sir?


  1. I assure I am merely flesh, blood, and brain--definitely not a computer. I'm contemplating a romance. So, today I spend my day with the head shrinkers. Two hours of trying to find out if my newly revived libido is real or is it bipolar disorder? I'm planning a seduction. Well, rather, I'm fully embarked on a seduction, and am planning a consummation delayed 49 years. I'll probably need someone to confide in. So I will return to the smoking room for a love song and a little manly advise.

  2. Somewhere someone is about to feel or already is sensing the rising force of a Utah seduction. If it happens in here we may need to prepare the place for seismic shakes and blind staggers!

  3. Can you hear me laughing? According to the shrinks, I'm good to go. Wednesday is the second date. The first was 49 years ago. A day and evening of naked teenagers in a big bed. Then poof, I vanished, only to be seen in photographs when I was modeling, or later in TV series and the occasional movie. But always a mystery woman, a what if...

  4. Hmmm, at first glance I thought that was a bra ad. I mean, it's all a sign of the times, a sign of the times. Maybe my times but I think I can safely generalize about the times in general. We live in a media heightened reality these days, most of our information about the world arriving on pure trust. As somebody once said.

    Sorry. I forgot who. But I assure you it was a big name. He (I remember it was a he) said never has mankind (he didn't use the neutral "humankind") accepted so much information on trust. That we live in the "most superstitious age" in human history.

    Which makes me wonder. I mean, in the Middle Ages, or before the advent of the telegraph, how did farmers know the prince's armies were actually escending down upon them? How did they know for sure they were coming over the distant hlls? After all, in the morning they, the peasants, had to milk the cows and goats: set out the cheese, slaughter a lamb for dinner. How could they be sure their facts were correct?

    At least today when our weatherperson (see, I didn't make the same mistake as our forefathers - though there I may have?) predicts a major storm is barreling down upon us we may be certain, armed with the whole of modern science, that the prediction is trustworthy and true. But in the sixteenth century? No way, Jose. You could damn well believe whatever you wanted to. Though you didn't want to p. o. the church, did you?

    But returning to the display above a pair of big boobs may lead some to believe they have a spectacular intelligence. But at a certain point all that becomes forgotten. And the bed may wake up the neighbors. True enough.

    I can't beat what Jazzo said. But put a computer on steroids and it may be able to mimmic Barry Bonds. But never Mozart. No, no, that can never happen.

  5. A serious answer, though

    Computers are the dumbest of creatures. They can only perform what they have been programmed to do. Add, subtract, compare yes and no. That sort of thing. Out of that, as you well know - I know you know, by golly. What me, paranoid? - they can performs all kinds of marvelous tasks. Even support the brilliant conversation we are engaged in now.

    But creativity? Imaginative inventiveness? Soul?

    No, no. Your pet dog or cat has more imagination than a computer. Set a computer to rapidly solve a problem it probabaly can do it in nanoseconds. But ask it to "see," to apply any form logic which hasn't been programmed into it, impossible.

    At one time chimpanzees were provided with paint brushes, tubes of paint, and a canvas. And were allowed to go whole hog. (So to speak.) And these "masterpieces" were then sold in galleries as truly profound creations.

    Yes, the chimps had more of a creative spark than any computer. Put the whole of Mozart's music onto a computer and it will be able to jiggle it all around and come out with something no one ever heard before. But will it have any soul, insight, musical intelligence, transcendence?

    I think not. But programmers certainly love the idea.

  6. I have a theory that I've never heard anyone else espouse...and I'd be grateful if any patron can refer to whomever else may have noticed this. It's about Computer Hal.

    What Hal turns against humanity, Hal's actions are considered a malfunction...and proof computers cannot be entrusted with such vital functions. However, I assert Hal's paranoia in fact was programmed in. In the machine's final disintegration Hal begins to sing the song Hal's very first programmer stuck in there. And it's an old song that goes Daisy Daisy...doo doo doo dah whatever the words are---and then comes "I'm half crazy...dah dah in love with you..or something. I'm half crazy. A basic programming glitch.

    But enough about me. Can't we get back to the robot nipples? Or better yet Utah's seduction of the childhood romper and her plunging neckline? Please, is it too late to take the plunge?

  7. There are those programmers (do they still exist? Aren't they called something like "software engineers" nowadays?) who, like those who believe life is merely a cocktail composed of atoms and a bolt of solar lightening, hope someday a Hal will actually stand up and become ubiquitous in human society. Who believe artificial intelligence is a possibility.

    What a low opinion they have of us. As if a living organism were incapable of any transcendent objective observation: and thought could be replicated by a machine. Six bits to a bite. Just plug the machine in and off it goes, spewing poetry like Keats.

    To find out why Hal malfunctioned some sort of shrink who specializes in robots would have to have a long talk with him.

    Maybe Hal knows how to make a good cocktail, too, and it was never programmed into him. He actually discovered the recipe himself.