bring on the figgy pudding

 most people consider their own opinions to be superior to other people's opinions

And indeed they do, and that't the problem.  If people thought that agriculture was for the birds and why bother to chuck a spear when you can just as well run after that mastodon with a rock, we never would have gotten here. Teachers don't have to be classical liberals they just have to display knowledge and show that it is good, and show the students how to think to obtain more and by gum they will toss aside the prejudices of their youth and the crackpot theories of their relatives and neighbors.

Well of course they won't.  We thought they would but they won't.  The downtrodden that we had hoped to lift up, will not listen to us.  The triumphal march of liberalism is done.  The world is going to hell.  Didn't I just devote a whole week to that?  If even the other Beaglesonians in their august robes (we do wear august robes don't we?) aren't paying attention what hope is there for the world?  Merry Christmas.


You know we humans admire inspiration.  Those thoughtful Greeks invented muses, a little whisper from the heavens.  It put us closer to the divine.  Cranky Tom Edison  thought perspiration was more important, and maybe so, but don't we admire the tightrope walker more than the drudge?

You know I come to points in my paintings where I don't know what to do.  Should the background be blue or black or a checkerboard of the two, or a thousand juggling clowns on unicycles, or something else?  I just don't know.  I put down my brushes and make lunch and read he paper and nap and go to the gym and fiddle with this and that and go to bed and in the morning there is the answer.  It is a gift from God.

Who I don't believe in, so it's really something going on in my subconscious, by which I mean whatever my brain is doing that I am not aware of.  Does either of the dawgs do the Jumble?  Sometimes I get it right off, and sometimes I get it after a bit of jiggering, and sometimes I hit a stonewall and I write the letters down on a piece of paper and open the basement door (I assume my subconscious is in the basement) and toss it in and maybe ten minutes later there is a knock on the door and there is the answer on a silver platter.  How does it do that?  Well the brain is way more complicated than any supercomputer, who knows?

They seldom go into how these supercomputers play chess.  I think they just go through thousands of possibilities, working them out itty bitty move by itty bitty move and select their next move accordingly.

But this AI is something else.  I believe the computer is rewriting its own software, I'm assuming somewhere it is keeping a log.  On 12/25/17 at 6:18:32 I changed 01101... to 01111 at location 10010..  I am thinking the original code was relatively simple but the overwritten code must be quite a tangle, far beyond the power of carbon units to untangle.  Put probably the carbon units could program another computer, possibly also using AI, that could go through that tangle and write what is going on in a way that we could appreciate it.

Seems like maybe there is something worth knowing there.  Maybe there is some comparison to the carbon brain.


Merry Christmas. See I can say that now, unlike those nightmare Obama years when the secret police were listening in to haul you off to reeducation camp for wishing Jesus a happy birthday.  Going to be a brutal day here in Chicago, me and Old Dog stumbling through snow and wind to get to our sisters' houses.  I hate to say it, but I'm disappointed to learn that Cheboygan's weather is going to be a tinge more tropical than down here firmly in the middle of the lower forty-eight.

Bring on the figgy pudding.