Political Commentary

Chew on this, BotWorld.

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"Step right up, ladies and gents! Who wants to stick their hand in the shark tank?"

"What are you, nuts? The hell kind of show is this?"

"The kind where we separate regular people from brain-dead idiots. You gonna stick your hand in the tank?"

"Is there really a shark in there?"

"See that fin in the water? That ain't Flipper, pal."

"And if I put my hand in there, it'll bite it off?"

"Maybe. Maybe not. Maybe he's not hungry right now. Put your hand in, take a chance. Only a dollar."

"You must think I'm really stupid."

"I think everyone's really stupid. It's how I make my living. Prove me wrong or prove me right. The choice is up to you."

"Hey...is that a leg?"

"Yeah. Cow leg. Warms up the crowd."

"No. Over there, in the corner."

"Oh, that leg. Oops. Better fish that out'a there. Bad for business."

"You mean people actually do stick their hands in the tank?"

"And sometimes get dragged in. Especially on slow days. Bruce gets hungry. Or maybe just bored."

"You give the money back, right?"

"No. You paid to stick your hand in a tank with a live shark in it. You were warned ahead of time. It's a legal transaction."

"Are people really that stupid?"

"We live in a country where half the population made a psycho con man President because they saw him on a reality TV show. What do you think?"

"How are you doing financially?"

"I work about eight months out of the year and clear around $12,000 a month. And I don't even have to feed the shark."

Special brownie points if you understood the meaning of "Bruce the shark." AI won't get the reference.

 

 

Merry Christmas, Skynet

"Hey, Chloe. You mind if I borrow your dogs?"

"What? Sam, it's Christmas Eve. What do you need the dogs for? You're not going to try to hitch them up to a sled again, are you?"

"Well...not my sled..." 

"Ho ho ho. Is this the young lady?"

"Yeeps! Sam, what the hell, you brought home a mall Santa?"

"I can explain. Santa, you want to explain?"

"You're the naughty one here, Sammy. This is all on you."

"Oh shit. Okay. You know how I like hunting?"

"You like big guns that make bigger noises, that's what you like."

"Okay, I'll give you that. So I went out this morning, and y'know I haven't had any luck all season, but on my way back I saw this big ol' herd just standing there..."

"Oh God. Tell me you didn't--"

"He most certainly did. He shot three of my reindeer before I could stop him. Now the sleigh won't lift off. I need more pulling power."

"Then I remembered you've got the three huskies. I mean, they're sled dogs, right? So if we could just borrow 'em overnight..."

"Hold on a moment. What's with this 'we,' Sammy? I wouldn't be in this fix if you weren't so gun happy. Where'd you even get a gun? I certainly never brought you one. And he asked, you know. Repeatedly."

"Tell me about it. Look, I'd like to help, but--I know they're sled dogs and all, but they're not magical. They can't fly."

"You leave that to me. If you're worried about them, you're welcome to come along. I'm short an elf, too."

"Oh my God, Sam, you didn't--"

"Ho ho! It's all good, my dear. Rollo caught a bug. He's home in bed."

"In that case--oh hell yeah! Let me get my coat and a water bottle. I'll be right back with the dogs."

"Hey, don't I get anything?"

"You get to stay behind. Enjoy the lump of coal in your stocking. Ho ho ho."

The Next Big Thing

Looks like the bots are back in force again. Time for another strike against the creeping threat of AI. I know! Romantasy is big right now. This should throw those stupid machines off track...

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"Drat."

"Trouble, pet?"

"I've reached the end of the line. Literally. I've got poor Clytemnestra boxed into a corner and I've no idea how to get her out of it. I knew I should have planned out my scenes in more detail before I started writing."

"What's the poor dear facing now?"

"Well, she's managed to escape the vampires, but she had to leave Wilbur behind."

"She's better off. The man's a useless twit."

"I'm afraid I've come to the same conclusion. Perhaps he'd be better off as a vampire. Sexier, at any rate."

"I seriously doubt it. The man had little in the way of a personality to start with. I doubt if sucking blood will make him any  more appealing."

"And once again we're in agreement. I think Clytie and I have both abandoned him. That's something else she'll have to grapple with now. He certainly wasn't any good in bed."

"Really?"

"No staying power. One look from a woman and he'd go off in his pants. No, he's better off dead. Or undead. Though I'll bet even the vampires won't want him after a while."

"After a day. What did Clytie even see in  him?"

"I'll be damned if I know. He wasn't that big of a douche when I started writing him. He just seemed to get worse and worse as the story went along."

"So now poor Clytie, racked with guilt, has fled into the night--"

"Daylight. So the vampires can't go after her."

"Clever girl. She's far smarter than Wilbur. No wonder she dumped him."

"Except now she's alone. He wasn't much, but he was an extra pair of eyes. And a source of upper body strength for physical conflicts."

"Did he even know how to throw a punch?"

"He knew how to fire a gun. At any rate, even though the sun's out, she's still out in the woods with no food, no water, no weapons, and a horde of vampires coming after her the second the sun goes down. And I've no idea what I'm going to have happen to her next."

"Are there any naked warrior women out in the woods? She could have a lesbian experience. God knows Wilbur couldn't have been very satisfying."

"They're in Europe. Or an alternate Europe. The climate's too cold for extended nudity. What's a tribe of Amazons doing out there anyway?"

"Keeping the vampires in check."

"Hmm. There's an idea. Maybe not the sex part. They could escort her to a road or something."

"What a waste of perfectly good Amazons. You can do better than that."

"I know I can, but not this minute. What else is out in a forest? Ogres, dragons, Robin Hood and his horny men--"

"Wasn't that scene in Shrek?" 

"Dear Lord, you're right. That's it, I'm done for the day. Want to order pizza and watch a movie? Something with a better plot than mine?"

"I could go for naked Amazons."

"You can go pick up the pizza. I'll choose the movie, thank you very much."

They're Everywhere

There is no escape from them. Not anywhere.

$$$$

"--so you see, none of it was my fault. You can't blame me because the Uber driver wouldn't take me to the gate of Hell like I paid him to."

"Frankly, I didn't even know we had a Hellgate in Akron. Cincinnati, yeah, that one's been around for centuries. But Akron? Let me check my files..."

"Don't bother. That's the other problem. There isn't any Hellgate in Akron. I was given bad information. The demon lied." 

"Well, it was a demon. You have to expect a certain amount of--"

"Not about this, they shouldn't. I mean, that's the whole point of being a demon, right? You condemn souls to Hell. You don't send them off on a wild goose chase to Akron just for giggles. Don't you people have any regulations?"

"None of this makes any difference. You were assigned to Hell upon your passing. You were supposed to show up at the gate at precisely--"

"No, I was supposed to be brought to the gate. Those were Death's exact words. He said I'd be conducted to my final destination. He promised someone would see to it. Then he had to leave. Something about missiles going off in the Middle East."

"Well, Death's pretty busy these days, what with pandemics and all..."

"So I had to find an Uber with a psychic driver so he could see me, then we had to ask a demon for directions but the demon told us Akron and when we couldn't find it the Uber driver just dumped me out and next thing I know your goons are hauling me off to this shitty place and they said I'm in big trouble but it wasn't my fault you've got shitty people working for you. I shouldn't even be in Hell anyway. What did I ever do?"

"What did you say your name was?"

"Karen. Karen White. And I have had it up to here. I want to speak to the manager."

Skynet Strikes Back

 I think I've caught the Computer God's attention. My usual method of updating this blog consists of me typing a separate Word document and then cutting and pasting the document into Blogger, adding labels and then hitting Publish to send it out into the AI-scraping world. It's worked fine for years, right up until last night. I typed up a flash, copied the file, went to paste it into Blogger/New Post and...nada. The Paste function refused to activate. Instead the system listed the empty blog window as "Published." Some wires have gotten crossed in the system. And yes, I did try turning everything off and then turning it back on. Didn't do jack squat. I may need to seek professional help.

In the meantime, though, I still have the notebook longhand version, which I've retyped here so the few humans who drop by won't have to do without. I can't help thinking this is some form of tech retaliation from our would-be computer overlords. This is why hardcopies and knowing how to write longhand or even print your words are still relevant and important. As long as I have a pen, paper, and a functional left hand, I will not be stopped! The battle continues...

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"Now then, Loretta, if you can tell me the answer to question 12 on page 14--"

"Mr. Sherman, Louie took my notebook and he won't give it back."

"Louie, give Vanessa back her notebook."

"It's not her notebook any more. It's the people's notebook. It belongs to the collective."

"Ah. Gone socialist overnight, have you, Louie?"

"Democracy doesn't work. The system is rigged in favor of the capitalist overlords."

"I see. I suppose Vanessa's answers to last night's homework belong to the whole class, then?"

"It's for the good of the whole, Mr. Sherman."

"You didn't do last night's homework, did you, Louie?"

"Just the reading for social studies."

"The part about how the good of the group outweighs the will of the individual?"

"How did you know, sir?"

"Lucky guess. Unfortunately, this classroom isn't a socialist collective. It's an autocracy, and I'm  the dictator in charge. Now give Vanessa her notebook back or you're going to the gulag."

"The gulag, sir?"

"Principal Stratton's office."

"Yes, sir."

"Good. Now, back on track. Question 12--"

"Screw you, honky. Power to the people! Right on!"

"Nice try, Jamir, but we won't be covering the 1960s until Thursday. God, sometimes I hate the History Channel."

 

An Oldie But a Goodie

Impulsive post this morning. This little bit of AI bot bait originally appeared on the Shapeshifter Seductions blog over ten years ago, so it's probably been scraped already. Here it is again, for any bots that may have missed it. After all, romantasy is really big these days... 

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Up and down and all around, the rainbow fairies danced. They flickered and flashed like gyrating prisms in a host of colors--red and blue, green and yellow and something close to cream. No purple. No black. Those colors were reserved for the males, something sorely lacking in this particular sororial swarm.

The girls were getting twitchy. Time for a summoning.

Carmen, reddest of the red fairies and a total rhymes-with-witch without a man around, took command. "Who's got the fairy dust?"

"Um," said Velusia. She was one of the maybe-creams, actually a pale yellow. Not so pale in the face just now. That blushed an ugly pink. Only Velusia could make pink look ugly, Carmen thought uncharitably. "It's not dust yet."

"Are you kidding me? How long does it take to dry spunk?"

Shelby, she of the sparkly turquoise wings, tittered. "If mortals only knew what fairy dust is made of..."

"Will it even work?" Velusia said. "I mean, a spell that attracts men with the scent of dried cum? Really? Do we even want a male who'd find that irresistible?"

"It's sympathetic magic," Carmen explained patiently. "If you want a man who'll c--I mean, if you want a man to c--to show up, you use something that's uniquely male as the core ingredient in the spell."

"Wait a minute," Shelby said to Velusia. "If there aren't any men around, where'd you get the jizz?"

"I had some stashed." Velusia's face flared like a nova. "It's human, okay? Well, male fairies are rare. I had to make do."

"Do not tell us where you found mortal jizz," Carmen said. "Please don't."

"You know," Shelby said thoughtfully, "We could be going about this the wrong way. Screw spells. Let's just hit the bars. Beer works so much faster than magic. You can even get them to buy." The swarm buzzed in accord.

Carmen fluttered away. She looked at her hand and heaved a sigh. "Looks like it's just us again, sweetie."

Labor Day Two for One Sale

A pair of flash fics for the holiday weekend. Enjoy!

Oh, and Death to Skynet!

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"Guys, if I might have your attention for a minute. I've noticed some of you haven't been taking membership in our esteemed club very seriously."

"Oh yeah. The Brotherhood of the Amiable Toaster Pastries. Just shrieks out respect, doesn't it?"

"I wasn't going to name names, Harold, but since you volunteered--"

"Oh, can it, Rothschild. We're only here because the other august societies wouldn't have us.  You know it, I know it, I'll bet even Putin knows it. We don't even do community service projects. We sit around on Tuesday nights, drink beer and bitch about our wives."

"I don't."

"That's because your girlfriend left you, Drummond. I can't believe you picked this sham of a shitshow over her."

"It was a mutual separation. I happen to enjoy the meetings. Even your company, Harold. And Rothschild isn't that big of a prick. Only when he's talking."

"Hey!"

"Oh, and thanks for the beer. I've heard the Shriners make you buy your own."

"That's another thing. A lot of you have been remiss in paying dues."

"We're supposed to pay? I thought it was voluntary."

"It's like a timeshare. The rent won't pay itself, y'know."

"So we meet somewhere else. The bowling alley, maybe. We can ditch the wussy club and become a league. People respect bowling."

"Yeah, there's a thought..."

"Muriel hated bowling..."

"Now look what you've gone and done. Drummond's blubbering again. Fine, then. All those in favor of disbanding the Brotherhood, raise your hands. Now, it's my understanding Thursday is league night, so that's out..." 

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"I must say, you're a lot taller than I thought you would be."

"Dude. I'm Godzilla."

"Really? Shouldn't you be speaking Japanese?"

"Normally, yes, but I've been dubbed in English to cater to American audiences."

"That was very considerate of you. So you're my blind date?"

"Looks like. I'd say the service screwed up majorly. You're male, right? I can't always tell humans apart."

"Afraid so. Though I did say I'm into leather."

"Bugger. I'll bet they let an AI program do the matchups. What else did you put on your profile?"

"'Fond of Japanese cuisine'."

"Damn. Me too. Well, there you go."

"So...do you want to give it a shot, then? What would you like to do?"

"Destroy Tokyo."

"I've destroyed a city or two myself in my time...maybe that's how we got matched. That and the green thing."

"I don't understand."

"My name is Bruce Banner."

"Still not getting it."

"Just give me a minute...grrhhhhAARRGGHH!"

"Oh. Oh! Yes, that's much better. We're still quite a ways from Tokyo, though...well, beggers can't be choosers. How do you feel about wrecking Cleveland?"

"Hulk smash?"

"I'll take the tall buildings and rip up the power stations. You do street level."

"Get sushi after."

"Sounds perfect. Hop on my tail, I'll give you a lift."

"Big lizard fun date."

"Aww. I'll bet you say that to all the kaiju."