Author: Kim du Toit

RFI: Voice-Activated Programs

Writing

My long-dormant creative writing urge has suddenly resurfaced, and I’ve discovered that there is this huge well of untapped words waiting to be brought to the surface.  Unfortunately, my well-pump (okay, my typing) is worse than terrible, and no matter how fast I peck away, or how late I stay up at night, the unrealized content is far greater than I can put to paper (okay, to disk storage).  Seriously:  there is the last chapter of the much-delayed Skeleton Coast, as well as the barely-started but fully-outlined sequel to Family Fortunes, plus another sorta-sequel to Prime Target  which is likewise barely-started but fully-outlined.  That’s three whole books, folks.  And I’m not a professional writer like the brilliant Sarah Hoyt, who seems to be able to publish output in seemingly daily torrents.

So with much reluctance I am being forced into the 21st century, in that I desperately need some kind of voice-recognition software that will translate my speech into the written word.   (Editing is far easier on my typing than doing the first draft.)

Does anyone out there have any experience in this matter?

Control

Bad News, Technology

Regular Readers all know that I treat the Internet Of Things (IOT) with deep and hostile skepticism.  I hate the idea of driverless cars, “remotely-controlled” appliances and -household systems, and don’t even get me started on “smart” guns with embedded chips.

Here’s a decent takedown of the concept:

After a week of tinkering, he effectively turned the coffee maker into a ransomware machine.  When the user tries to connect it to their home network, it triggers the machine to turn on the burner, spew hot water, endlessly spin the bean grinder, and display a pre-programmed ransom message while beeping incessantly.  The only way to get it to stop?  Unplugging your now seemingly possessed coffee maker entirely.

I know that all this is The Coming Thing, and we should all just bow down and accept its inevitability.  My standard response to this kind of attitude has always been quite simple:

  or the more heated

or even

Stick shifts and car keys, bolt-action or pump action rifles, revolvers, “dumb” coffee machines, house keys, pen and paper… y’all get my drift, right?

Fuck automation, and fuck the Internet Of Things or Skynet or whatever the hell they want to call it.

This post comes to you courtesy of the Internet… goddamn it.

Translation

Politics

From one of the Socialist Party’s prime gun-confiscators:

Translation:  we can’t dig up any dirt on this chick, so there’s no point trying to hold up her nomination.  Therefore, I’m just going to hold my breath till my face turns blue.

Nitpicking

Advice

Via Insty, I read yet another one of Larry Correia’s inspired rants (go thou and read it too, yea even before thou readest further in this here Blogge), but this did catch my eye:

As a former accountant, please allow me to explain why all of today’s newly formed tax experts are fucking morons, and we should metaphorically put a brick in a sock and beat them over the head with it until they shut up.

Far be it for me to gainsay anything that the Mighty Correia has said, but even a half-brick  in a sock will only yield a couple of whacks before the sock frays and breaks.  (And yes, I know he said “metaphorically”, but I’m a literal kinda guy.)

For sustained head-whacking with enhanced hosiery, I suggest a good old Idaho potato, the fresher the better.  When the potato starts getting mushy with use (which takes a surprisingly long time), it’s a matter of a moment to replace it with a fresh one.

And if the local supermarket is closed and a potato is not to hand, gravel or beach sand will work equally well, especially if dampened before half-filling the sock. And if all else fails, take a D battery out of your MagLite, and insert into the Sock Of Doom.  (The D is the optimal size — larger will break the sock, smaller doesn’t achieve the proper velocity or momentum.)

Don’t ask me how I know all this.  We can discuss at some other time whether your Easton Marlowe is better than Calvin Klein, or whether dress socks are a better fit [sic]  for purpose than athletic ones.

No need to thank me, it’s all part of the service.

News Roundup

Bad News

Stuff barely worth commenting on, like Michelle Obama’s nude scene in her Network movie*.


…Jeffrey Epstein was unavailable for comment.


…may as well try to explain Quantum Theory to a dog.


…and why shouldn’t she?  She’s about as qualified as Barack Obama was, when he announced his candidacy.


…which leaves me somewhat conflicted:  ordinarily, I’m all in favor of chopping up random journos in the street.


…which is the primary reason people get followers:  limitless access to pudenda.  And as always, Monty Python supplies the mot juste.


…because they’re mostly a bunch of insufferable nannies who always know what’s best for you.


…good.  The only way this could be any better is if “flogging” was included in the punishment.


…FFS Bobby, just stick to making Mafia movies.


…and imagine the actual level of support if the poll were conducted in Middle America, and not on the Harvard University campus.


…and about damn time.


…hell, why not just call for public vivisection and arena-based child molestation spectacles, while you’re there?

And speaking of child molestation:  if we’re going to comment on something truly newsworthy, how about young Ariel Winter’s buttocks?

*Sorry.

 

Quote Of The Day

QOTD

From Angelo Codevilla:

Let there be no doubt: the ruling class’s focus on Donald Trump has been incidental.  America’s potentates do not fear one pudgy orange-haired septuagenarian.  They fear the millions of Americans whom they loathe, who voted for Trump, who gave his party control of House and Senate, and who will surely vote for folks these potentates really should fear.

Which is all the more reason for millions (upon millions) of Americans to vote for Trump in November, and for people who support his agenda.

Do not refuse to read Codevilla’s article because it’s “too long”.  It isn’t, because his exposition can’t be fitted onto a bumper sticker, and the stakes are too important.