Technology vs. Entertainment Pt.1

A few years ago some A.I. scientists developed a program called '20Q' that was a self-learning program based on the classic game of 20 Questions. You picked a Person, Place, or Thing and then answered 20 questions with either Yes, No, Unknown or Sometimes. If the program didn't guess correctly it would ask an additional 5 questions hoping to narrow it's answer.

20Q wasn't programmed with any inherent information, instead learning from every game played. And it was programmed with the ability to draw it's own conclusions even if some answers given were contradictory to what it already knew. In essence it can make 'educated guesses' and think laterally as the questions/answers required.

It ultimately developed enough knowledge to maintain about 80% accuracy at 20 questions, and an amazing 98% at 25 questions.

You can plan an online version of 20Q at their website: http://www.20q.net/ . Be warned though, it's pretty addictive (for awhile at least) trying to stump the bastard.

In 2004 a non-learning plastic handheld version with a condensed data-set was released, and went on to win a bunch of "Best Toy of the Year" awards for it's innovation.

I first saw it at a Toys-r-Us for around 20 bucks. I remember being surprised at how many times it was right, and how obscure some of it's successes were. I didn't buy one, though, as it was a bit spendy, despite the novelty of the technology.

However, when I saw the Special Edition 'The Simpsons Show' frosted doughnut with sprinkles & a bite taken out 20Q I bought it immediately (and one for Jason & Rebecca's Simpson collection).

It works exactly the same as the original 20Q toy, provided the Person, Place or Thing you're thinking of is somehow related to the Simpsons.

Now, if you know me at all you know I have given over a pathetically large amount of my memory to the Simpsons show. Simpsons quotes, Simpsons trivia, entire Simpsons episodes are lodged in my grey matter (much like the Powder Blue Crayon that Homer had Moe ("That's right, I'm a surgeon!") Szyslak re-insert into his brain in Episode BABF22, "HOMR").

The only person I know who has wasted as much brainspace on the Simpsons is my friend Chris Parker, who coincidentally runs one of the other Island Video stores. The two of us can have entire conversations without actually saying anything original, simply lobbing direct quotes from the show.

With that in mind I can swear to you this thing is disturbingly good.... Seriously, I couldn't believe the depth of info this thing can reach. There were only a few instances where I was able to stump the beast.

Besides the more obvious characters, items and locations the Simpsons 20Q knows almost every character that's ever been on the show, including dozens that only made one appearance. The same goes for odd businesses, unique one-episode items, almost everything imaginable. Here's a short list of some of the answers it got right:

• Blinkey, the 3-Eyed Fish
• Donny, from Donny's Discount Gas (who's prices always end in 7/8ths of a penny)
• Gil (Gil Gunderson, the ever-failing salesman based on Jack Lemmon's character from "Glengarry Glen Ross"
• Armin Tanzarian (the man who took over Seymour Skinner's identity after returning from Vietnam)
• Cecil Terwilliger, Sideshow Bob's brother (voiced by David Hyde Pierce who played Kelsey Grammer's brother Niles on "Frasier")
• Handsome Pete (the crazy little dancing sailor with a concertina)
• Hank Scorpio, the head of Globex Corporation bent on world-domination.
• the Springfield Monorail
• The Dome (the Dome! from the Simpsons Movie)
• Spider-Pig, natch
• Willie's tractor
• the Maison Derriere (the burlesque house)
• the Olmec Head, X'tapalatekettle (given to the Simpsons by Mr. Burns for the gift of Bart's blood)
• Cypress Creek, the planned community for the Globex Corporation's workers
• the Merciless Pepper of Quetzlzacatenango from Chief Wiggum's Chili
• the Leftorium
• Jay Sherman, from the show "The Critic"

There were a few little odd omissions, the 20Q couldn't come up with these:

• Globex Corporation, though it got Hank Scorpio and Cypress Creek
• Moe's Love Tester machine, though it did get the Lovematic Grandpa from the 'Simpsons Spin-Off Show' episode
• the Town Sundial (that featured so importantly in the 2-part Who Shot Mr. Burn's episodes), though it did get the Town Hall
• the Springfield Lighthouse


I find this little plastic doughnut delightful, and not just for the simple entertainment it briefly provides, but for the confluence of interests it represents.

Think about it: Computer scientists working on A.I. models of learning. Toy makers who recognize the entertainment (and profit) potential. The Simpsons, and everything related to the Simpsons. The artistic inspiration of a version shaped like a doughnut (the buttons are different colour sprinkles!), complete with a premolded bite taken out of it.

And I find it intriguing that the technology involved in making something like this would be put to use to, well, make something like this. It seems such an odd choice to spend the time & resources it must have taken to design this thing. Are there really enough people out there willing to spend $14.95 for a plastic doughnut that's smarter than them, at least in terms of Simpsons-trivia ability?

It's as if the cosmos decided to make a little gift just for Paul. Magic.

Good on'ya, State Farm.

A friend pointed out this one-pager from the Seattle PI:

(Click on the pic for a full-size view).

A crowd of hands reaching out to touch Obama's; above that the ad-copy reads:

One man had a dream.

That dream carried us all a long way.

It moved us forward.

It was a little light that nobody could keep from shining.

That dream lasted forty years and then some.

Then, as a country, we woke to find

it wasn't a dream at all.

[State Farm Insurance, Proud Million Dollar Sponsor of the Washington, D.C. MLK National Memorial Project Foundation.]


Who'd have thought an ad for an insurance company could put a lump in my throat and a tear in my eye?

"God Bless you"

After getting out of work late tonight, around 11pm, I decide I need some more fresh veggies (and fine, maybe some wine), so I head down to Safeway to grab a quick totebag's worth. As I pull into the nearly empty lot I notice a small group of people standing around the front door.

I park, walk up. By the time I get to the door the group's gone inside, except for a large white girl in a torn black hoody. "Excuse me, sir," she says, shuffling up without making eye contact. "I've been moving apartments all day up to Everett and I'm just trying to get something for me and my baby to eat tonight before we head home."

Well that's a new combo. I've heard the 'moving' story before, and the 'not enough for my bus' story. I've heard the 'lousy boyfriend/husband/babydaddy' story before. But moving-to-Everett/hungry-baby is a nice twist.

Unfortunately I never carry cash. Not because I only use plastic, or don't have to worry about tipping the 'little people', or crap like that. I never carry cash because I never have enough money to carry cash.
(See previous post: http://ginsoak.blogspot.com/2008/11/to-be-high-live-low-stay-young-forever.html).
I tell her I don't have any money on me, explain how I'll get some cashback with my groceries, even though I don't have much money myself and don't get paid 'til next Friday. She says "God Bless" and shuffles off.

There's a delay at the checkout; something is wrong with the register. This late there're no Managers on duty, just the poor schmucks (like me) who are still working retail at 11pm. They can run cards as 'Credit', but not 'Debit', and No Cash Back. It takes about 10 minutes to get through the one checkout line, and when I get to the front door she comes shuffling over.

I tell her they weren't giving any cashback to anybody, something wrong with the register. I think a moment about my bank, just up the road, but they only give out 20's, and I can't really afford that much anyways. (I'd decide to give her 10, instead of my initial decision of 5, which seemed too little). Then I remember my vidstore; I can get some cash out of the safe and replace it later. "I'll be back in, like, 10 minutes," I tell her. "I'm gonna run up to my store and I'll be back in 10."

I can tell she doesn't believe me, but I'm too tired to disabuse. I just know I told her I'd get her something and goddammit I'm not going back on my word, even if it is to latenight (probably scamming junky) streetkid.

You should know by now I believe in telling the truth. Besides being the 'right' thing to do, it's really just a hellofalot easier to get through life not bothering with lying, or misleading, or half-truthing, or abusing your Executive Powers and refusing repeated subpoenas to appear before Congress, etc.

This, by extension, means I'm a man of my word. (Oh, and it matters a very great deal to me that I'm a man of my word. If I tell you I'll be there, I'm gonna fucking be there, okay? And not in some self-righteous or 'chest-thumpy' way, it just matters a .. very .. great .. deal .. to me that I'm a man of my word). Don't know why, but there it is. (Probably has to do with pain I've caused others by lying, but that's for another session).

Anyvays, I drive back to my store and take 10 bucks from my deposit from tonight, leaving an IOU in the envelope. (Not strictly against the rules, and since I'm the one who puts together the deposit each week it's unlikely anybody else will even notice, much less object). On the way out I charge a Snickers bar and a Gatorade to my account. (Hey, I've crawled up my share of sidewalks in my life, I know what your body needs right now).

When I get back to the Safeway lot she turns and watches me pull in, approach her. Either she didn't think I'd come back or she didn't recognize my car; I get right up to her before she clicks on & walks up to my window.

I give her the 10'er, but she really lights up at the Snickers & Gatorade. Which makes sense; if she's really stuck moving apartments as a single mother the Snickers/Gatorade should be a nice boost. And let's be honest, if she's just a strungout junky working the street? Well, the Snickers/Gatorade will still be a nice boost. (Trust me, I know what your body needs right now).

I apologize to her for not having more cash, explain again I don't get paid 'til next Friday, so...
"God bless you, God Bless", she says. And again, "God Bless you, God Bless."
"Well, just so you know ma'am, I don't believe in gods. But I do believe we're all in this shit together. And if you can help somebody out, even if it ain't that much, well, you probably should."
"Well thanks anyways," she says as she walks away.

I'm not sure what she meant by 'thanks anyways', but I'm going to assume she just didn't have a response on-deck for somebody tossing a "God Bless" back in her face. Oh well, maybe she'll think about it, or tell somebody else and they'll think about it: It is possible to believe in 'good' without having to believe in 'gods'. Maybe this will sell that message to a couple of people.

Anyways, I drive out the back end of the parking lot so I can catch the light at the first intersection. On the way out I notice a cop car I hadn't seen before, backed into a corner spot, in the shade of an unlit streetlight, lights off, watching. I look without turning my head as I pass and can see the Smokey-the-Bear hat in silhouette.

I guess it's not an unrealistic supposition that this women who's going from car to car & taking money from some of them is working drug deals. By the time I stop at the red light he's pulled in behind me.

Sonofabitch followed me the whole 2 miles home. Of course I kept it right at the speed limit/didn't run the yellow I could have made/indicated & started breaking well in advance of my turn. And patted myself on the back for not giving in to the urge to open the bottle of wine for a quick pull on the drive home.

I turn onto my half-block street & into my apartment's lot. He speeds up, heading off down Sand Point Way.

That's Laurelhurst for you; no good deed goes unharassed. Or, apparently, without slightly confusing the person you intend to help.

We miss you Jim...

(Click on the pic to read a slightly larger version).

"Dream On" Christian Falk feat. Robyn & Ola Salo

This one's been out for a couple of years, but I just recently rediscovered it.
Why shouldn't pop-songs occasionally speak to us?

"Ass Juice"

There's a bar in Las Vegas called the "Double Down Saloon". http://doubledownsaloon.com/

Best neighborhood bar I've ever been to. They have a massive collection of 'donated' bras hanging over the entire bar; they have maybe two or three of the saddest slot machines you've ever seen; every conceivable inch of available surface is covered in some sort of graffiti; and the last time I was there three hot strippers 'bellied' up to the bar after their shift ended. If there is (against ALL evidence) some form of 'afterlife' I want to spend the rest of mine in the "Double Down".

They advertise a house specialty called "Ass Juice". I've had it, it's not bad. Maybe a little too sweet; 'chick drink' for the tourists.

You can even buy t-shirts with their logo & a pic of a skeleton squatting over a pint glass, squirting into it with the slogan "Outa Our Ass, Inta' Your Glass."

And yeah, I got one somewhere; I wear it when I'm doing my laundry so the neighbors will give me a wider berth....



Point being; I thought I'd encountered 'ass juice'.
The dice say 'No':

Should you ever find yourself hungover, pinned down in the cold morning light, struggling over which fortified, artificially-fruit-flavored, overly-caffeinated, malt beverage to grab on your way to work, do yourself one last favor & stays the hells aways from 'JOOSE'.

I have never, in my entire life, tasted a previously manufactured, commercially sold, marketed/advertised/pimped beverage that tasted SO RIDICULOUSLY SHITTY.

It comes in several favors, I chose 'orange'. Bad move.

Imagine taking a big bite of fresh orange and then burying your nose deep in your father's/older brother's/creepy uncle's sweaty armpit.

I kid you not, that is EXACTLY the sensation. One helluva blast of citrus, and then the most sweaty socklike aftertaste you can't even try to imagine.

I have no idea how this made it into production. I am being completely serious here; if you open a can, let it sit for a moment, then take a big ol' sniff, it smells EXACTLY like sweaty old gym socks.

The aftertaste is somewhat stronger.

There've been more than a few instances in my drinking career where somebody has stated something along the lines of 'It tastes like ass!" Well, they were wrong. They have no goddamn idea what the phrase 'tastes like ass' truly means.

If you're that self-destructive, if you're that goddamn curious, if you're (like me) open to ANY new experience, well, by all means, track down a can. Just never, NEVER, EVER say I didn't give you enough of a head's up first....

Assjuice like you wouldn't believe.

[Oh, and in case you're wondering, yeah, I held my breath & shot the whole fucker in one. Taste not, want not.]

Serendipitous words....

I stubbed my toe last night on a piece of marble I use to keep the couch from shifting when I drop my fat ass onto it. After the blinding flash of pain subsided, it occurred to me the rock might make for an interesting blog subject.

As you may suspect from the pictures; yes it is indeed a piece from a headstone. No, I didn't break the headstone, but I did find it, alone, near a cemetery I was visiting years ago. (If it's a sin to take a broken headstone from near a cemetery I'm not really worried; I'm going to Hell for some better reasons than that.)

Part of the reason I felt compelled to take it (besides the obvious: it's a fucking headstone!) was that the only letters visible spelt 'ONE'.

'ONE'. For some reason that really struck me, that word, on a headstone. As in, we are all one & the same, we all are alive & will one day die; we are all one in this mortality. 'ONE' day, you too buddy....

It's like reading through some history book and coming across somebody from the 1800's with the same name as you. Kinda takes you out of yourself for a moment.

And I'm reminded of that first impression whenever I look at this hunk of marble. It's sort of a philosophical touchstone, if you will.

But the capper, what gives the thing it's real, zen-like sublimity is this; years later I found a website listing Washington State cemeteries and their occupants. Checking through the names listed for the one where I found this I realized there's only one it could have come from: 'STONE'.

expression

I found this image on one of those photo-caching websites, Flickr or Lumra, a couple of months ago. There were 2 or 3 showing pieces of found-art that'd been, um, found.

Somebody had taken the time to weave broken (or cut) pieces of galvanized chainlink fence into random patterns.

Think about that. I don't know if you've ever worked with/climbed over/cut through (ahem) galvanized chainlink fencing, but it's pretty heavy duty shit. I can't imagine how hard it was to weave, or how long it took to make this. Somebody really wanted to express something with this old piece of broken fence.

Which I guess I understand. I think the artistic urge to express oneself is inherent in everybody, to lesser or greater degrees. Something about being social animals, and needing to feel our feelings are, um, felt by others. And I suppose if the need were great enough and you found the opportunity you would find a way to weave galvanized chainlink fencing.

Either that or one night some crackhead got stuck on what seemed like a really awesome idea.

Oh, and did you notice the checkerboard pattern painted on the roof of the shed? It's the sort of pattern (not usually found in nature) that jumps out to the human eye; that rusty old shed must have been on or near an airstrip. Another form of expression, if you think about it.

Curious old world sometimes.

'Pet Shop Boys' is a pretty sweet band

and Bruce Weber was their secret weapon. that is all.

"Evolve One • Evolve All"

http://www.trojanevolve.com/

Found a coaster at the Ravenna Alehouse promoting a new campaign from Trojan Condoms. The concept is to get us to 'evolve' by using a condom every time. That's actually one of their slogans: 'evolve. use a condom every time'.

The website also sports the slogan: 'real people. evolve', and offers links to the 'Trojan Evolve Campus Comedy Tour', the 'Evolve National Tour', aka the 'Trojan Evolve Bus Tour' (featuring a bus painted with the silhouettes of what appears to be a pig evolving into a sheep-pig hybrid evolving into a man), and a 'How Evolved Are You?' quiz you can take to test your STD knowledge.

Anybody get the irony of this campaign? Evolution cannot happen without sexual reproduction, which can be a bit difficult when wearing a "jimmy hat" (a term I've never heard before but Trojan uses it on the coaster, along with the more common "love glove").

And yes, technically there is evolution in asexual reproduction from random mutations, but that's single-cell life, not the sort of complex life that evolves to the point of self-awareness & marketing campaigns & blogging.

At any rate, this is a fine example of how a little scientific knowledge can be easily misapplied in the public mind. I'm reminded of the use of the phrase, "quantum leap" to describe some great change in technology or action or policy. Strictly speaking a quantum leap represents the smallest measurable change, happening randomly; the exact opposite of what most people use the phrase for.

How evolved are you?