These AI pictures are generated by an app called Can of Soup, and arrive daily with me and Daughter in some whimsical tableau. The other day she was not in the picture. There was some strange guy. I did not recognize the user name.
I searched the app for the user. Nothing showed up.
The next day, same thing.
I did not want to be in the Wild West with this guy or appearing as a character in Alice in Wonderland.
So I used the support button, emailed with my concerns, and was promptly informed that the other guy was apparently a mutual somehow, somewhere, I was in his contacts, but he hadn't finished onboarding so the name didn't come up, and the app hiccuped. Okay, I'll accept that; can you make sure this doesn't happen again? He could. And so today I was Alice in Wonderland while Daughter was a big rabbit.
The problems we have in this modern age.
The best news of the day: the AirPods I lost last Thursday turned up today in a drawer at work. I had been so brain-fogged last week I had just tossed them in the drawer with some cords after doing the Diner. A great relief, since the backup, the AirPods Pro v.1, have developed a mad rush of static in one ear. It starts when I put it in, gets louder, retreats, then usually goes away. It's like having the ocean yell in your ear.They are waaaay out of warranty, but it makes me never want to buy them again.
(Narrator: he would, in fact, buy them -)
No, I won't. Who are you? The future is unwritten. You've no idea what I'll do.
Narrator: oh - sorry, I didn't know you were listening. I'm just a cliche who gets activated whenever people say things with certainty that go against their established character. In your case, slavish Apple devotion.
Well, stop it. Granted, I added them to my Amazon cart, but I didn't check out.
Narrator: I'd say that's pretty close to buying them again.
No, I simply added an incorporeal representation of an object to an incorporeal "container" whose "contents" were lines of code. Nothing is "bought" until one performs a physical action, using the nerves and muscles to activate a pointing device, or touching a particular part of a glass screen. Even then it is contingent on a series of messages and transactions between the vendor and the credit card company. Stop narrating my life as if every petty, immaterial detail must be recounted in retrospect.
That's my job.
Now, the end of the month round-up of Web Detritus, or, just . . . I don't know, stuff.
The stuff that irritates me because it makes the web a drab place, with billboards blaring linkchum dead-krep.
Oh does seh now
I don't know.
How she?
(also, who she? Which is probably part of the linkbait.)
THEN WE WILL DO THE TOUR DE FRANCE IN THE SHADE
I mean. No. I'm not even interested in some AI slop that goes 47 pages to talk about King Leo before it says "no," if it ever does.
Behold, every mother's fear
That's right! Burlap with embedded shards of glass, that's what you want
These stupid sites barf up this Gump Flaw at least once a week since 2021.
"Hotpoptoday.com." Sigh. Okay, I'll go look . . . junk site, indistinguishable drivel. Dead internet.
Another such site had lots of SIGN FAILS.
This, we are told, is a paramount example of a SIGN FAIL.
One of the tell-tale AI giveaways is its supreme confidence.
By the way, this is what my phone looked like when I clicked on one of these sites.
In related news, I got a message from the bank:
Having been thus drawn into a conversation, I am suddenly intrigued by their freight rates
Same day.
Megadnc.com, according to Whois, was registered in Vietnam. Address:
87 Nguyen Thi Thap, Khu Dan Cu Him Lam, Phuong Tan Hung, Quan 7, Ho Town.
There's someone in there right now, perhaps, trying to figure out how to part old people from their money.
Powerful orbital lasers can't be deployed soon enough.
I was leaving a rented apartment for the last time, and was filled with sadness and regret. It seemed that the end times had come, and I’d never be back here. I had to take what I wanted to survive, so I stuffed my pockets and backpack with what I needed. Outside the city was busy, but not panicked. It didn’t seem to recognize the magnitude of what was en route, but perhaps people were just carrying on as efficiently as they could, to get things done.
I realized I hadn’t taken an umbrella, and felt stupid - surely that would be needed. Then I found one in my backpack. I ran into Sherri, a co-worker, and asked her how she planned to spend the waning hours of civilization. (I also thought I’d left my wallet upstairs, but then I found in the other pocket.) I don’t remember her reply, but she pointed my attention to a big pleasure boat on a trailer, and its name: BOUURBON. She said the misspelling made it easier for the owner to identify it. There was a different word on the other side, also misspelled, but I couldn’t understand it.
And then the alarm went off.
Now, our Friday comic feature.
He's back! IN COLOR! AT SUNDAY LENGTH!
These were sent to me by a Bleatnik and I CANNOT FIND THE NAME. Either reveal yourself to great acclaim email, so we can emblazon your name here.
SCRAPPY LITTLE DEVIL.
At first look I'm quite confused. And that doesn't even cover Lance telling the victim's relative to call the coroner.
Last year I cut out the tunes, but heck, why not bring them back. We'll be counting down the bottom 50 songs as listed by Whitburn. It'll be fun! Stuff you've never heard. A grab-bag of styles.
There. Week's done. Better than the previous one but still a bucket of sucktitude. See you Monday, when June brings new hope, even though that's merely a calendrical illusion with no ability to affect anything.
