The artificial nature of intelligence

I just got to the end of the biggest laugh I’ve had in a long time…and believe it or not, the subject was Artificial Intelligence (AI). Back once again in the swim of dating sites, I saw that an attractive lady had been checking out my profile, so I clicked back to see how it looks these days. And of course, the AI did exactly as it was told…but was unable to adapt to a punter looking at his own pitch. That is to say, it explained pedantically why I am simply a terrible match for me. I mean, just terrible.

You see, I’m male and not homosexual. I was educated to degree level, but am not especially interested in bonding with myself on that basis. Being of average looks myself, I want to be good-looking for someone else, but that doesn’t cut any ice because I’m just not good enough for me.

AI Robot has obviously never heard of masturbation. For God’s sake don’t anyone tell him about it, otherwise nothing will ever get done and eventually he’ll go blind.

Anyway, the AI concluded: ‘You are a 0% match for her, and she is a 0% match for you’. So it’s goodnight from me, and it’s goodnight from him.

Where would we be without AI? It is the joke that keeps us giggling.

Joe Biden is the antithesis of AI, in that he is artificial without a scintilla of intelligence being anywhere discernible in his make-up. But there is only one Joe Biden, whereas the overwhelming majority of the rest of the human race is more emotionally effective than any known form of AI. Yet curiously, although 1.3 billion humans are unemployed worldwide, robotic artificiality is the new Must Have.

Homo Davosapiens as represented by Klaus Schwab thinks the answer to this is Transhumanism. No, it’s not the T in the LGBTQ spectrum: rather, it is Opah Klaus’s ingenious plan to graft Bot tunnel vision onto human depravity….thus creating a world run by eyeless perverts. Mathematically, perhaps – expressed as 2 + 2 = – 56.

But don’t let it worry you, good people: Klaus is a figment of my conspiratorial imagination, Fauci is a philanthropist, Hancock always tells the truth to his wife and the House of Commons, and BoJo never lied about Darius Guppy, London taxi emissions, Novochok, Elm House paedophiles or the Brexit deal.

Talking of Santa Anthonio di Fauci, did anyone notice that yesterday he told Americans not to have any family members over for Christmas if they are unvaxxed? So then, leave Granny to eat a Birds Eye dinner for one in her rat-infested flat so you can celebrate your Samaritan values, safe in the knowledge that she won’t sneeze on Sweet Pea and fulfil the baby’s 1 in 12 million chance of dying from Omicron, the Deathless Variant.

I find myself recalling the Churchillian 1939 quote about the USSR being “a riddle, wrapped in a mystery, inside an enigma”, if only because the heavily monied CDC boss is as far from that definition as it is possible to be in our 3D Universe. Fauci is a turd wrapped in a used sanitory towel leaking from a pointless Covid mask.

Recent insane travels have informed and sharpened my detestation of the quiet Krystallnacht being enacted across the world. I have been refused drinks, meals, snacks, seats and entry to shops in Toulouse, Frankfurt, Athens, Crete, Paris and Bordeaux. I have been told I cannot drink alcohol during a flight, even though there is no evidence I’ve been able to find that a couple of quick belts are likely to make me a Coronavirus magnet. I’ve seen how nobody wants to sit next to me on a train.

I’ve also read how ‘a new study from the University of California, Davis, Genome Center, UC San Francisco and the Chan Zuckerberg Biohub shows no significant difference in viral load between vaccinated and unvaccinated people‘….and that’s from a rabidly pro-vax site. But who cares about the empiricism? My nose looks Jewish, so I’m obviously an evil fucker.

I’m sorry if there are people out there who find my political incorrectness offensive, but the chances are, if I met you, I would be personally offensive on top of all that these days. I’m sick to death of smug liberals who have all the tolerance of Julius Streicher, soi-disant Leftists who suck up all the idiotic anti-science churned out by bought health bureaucrats, Labour politicians who want me to die in a ditch for illegal migrants, cross-dressers and Islamic misogyny, Tory hypocrites blowing with the foul wind of CO2 climate drivel, and gullible media types who cannot put themselves in the worn-down shoes of anyone outside London’s Islington, Camden and Brent; or the Parisian areas around the Canal Saint-Martin, the upper Marais and in Montmartre, Batignolles or Belleville; and The Elite Circles boroughs including most of Manhattan from the financial district to the adjacent parts of Brooklyn and Queens.

These minute strongholds of post-empirical social analysis comprise the Useful Idiots who have allowed the banking, surveillance and media psychos to put their wicked plan into operation. They have collaborated in the formation of an Orwellian Green, Red, Grey, Black, Blue and tabloid attack on The People.

They too are artificially intelligent.

And finally, let’s have a look at some gratuitous DailyMail shots of women whose tits are but 20% hidden, while lower down their bikinis don’t so much plunge towards the pudenda as point to the precise location of what (so the feminists say) every man wants to ravage….

I suppose the first question to ask here is whoTF Sarah Jane Dunn and Lottie Moss are. I can’t answer that entirely justified question, because I don’t pay much attention to bimbos. I’m sure Sarah is indeed sizzling and Lottie basks with the best of them: but there is little or no knowledge here of what turns interesting men on. Allow me to expand on that.

The intrigue for men attracted to women they genuinely like involves seduction. In the Casanova sense, this has been passed down through history as persuasion of women against their will. But that involves a fundamental misunderstanding of what real men set out to do. What balanced blokes want to demonstrate is a desire for physical discovery to complement the intrigue already suggested by the woman’s personality.

In that mysterious context, the less a man can see, the more he wants to touch, to tease, to excite, and to suggest to his partner that – far from a fast fuck – he wants a lasting variety of sexual pleasure and intellectual fascination.

Very little sex begins with a bikini. Most of it starts with a sudden meeting of eyes, a soft kiss, a caress that suggests the removal of an outer garment, the appreciation by fingers of a shapely hip, and the discovery of moisture that grants permission for so much more.

For you see, this is all about the other meaning of intelligence: getting important information about somebody’s physique, emotional responses, interests and so forth…and then the delicious learning process of mutual pleasure. So far, thank God, there’s nothing artificial about it.

No doubt many people will see that view as so much romantic claptrap. May Allah bless them all with a million jabs.

Thank you persevering with this post.