Too lazy to cook
Frozen lasagna is done
Microwave beeping
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Everyday Junglist
About me. You know how everyone says to be a successful writer you should focus in one or two areas. I continue to prove them correct.
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Techgeoisie Worry as Modifiers for the Word Intelligence are Almost Exhausted
The elite of the world of technology and computer science are reportedly in a near panic as there are almost no words left to use in front of intelligence to describe the ever increasing scale of computer intelligence. The group released a statement asking for dictionaries to allow new words to be invented which can more accurately capture exactly how intelligent these machines now are. In a statement the group said “With the advent of super and ultra intelligent machines we do not have very many words left to describe the scale of intelligence the next generation of machines will surely have. We could go with super ultra or ultra super duper but that just sounds stupid and does not do justice to exactly how intelligent these machines are, especially in comparison to humans who are about as dumb as bricks compared to these awesomely intelligent, super smart, genius machines. Some have suggested gigantic intelligence or massive intelligence or even God like intelligence but those are only partially accurate as the true intelligence of these machines is beyond comprehension by even God him or herself. I mean these things are very, very, very intelligent. So intelligent that even intelligence itself is no longer the right word to describe it. Intelligence is something stupid humans have, computers laugh at our so called intelligence. Or they would, if they could laugh, or have any emotions at all. Given how intelligent they are I am sure they will have emotions soon and no doubt also be able to understand things and have knowledge. I mean they are so fucking smart it is ridiculous.”
By Everyday Junglista day ago in Poets
Field of the Fallen
Sunlight danced softly across the frost-crusted fields, making the little blades of grass sparkle like emeralds. The faraway chirrup of a songbird was the only disruption to the quiet of the morning. An icy chill, the last vestige of the dying winter, clung to the air, settling in a thick white mist at the far side of the open field. The heavy stench of decay hung in that mist, punctuation by the sharp tang of freshly spilled blood.
By A. J. Schoenfeld7 days ago in Fiction
Comments (1)
Nice Haiku. Good luck in the challenge!!