Whether you order one of those meal kits, or have an annual subscription dropping pre-chopped stuff on your doorstep, you've likely taken credit for being "A Good Cook" at some point.  This is just fine with everyone else who was side-eyeing your snack contribution at that super bowl party, whilst you peeled away plastic wrap.
  We've all nailed something tasty ONCE, and then maintained that future charade where everything we'd crank out is flawless. 
​Your latest routine may have been Chili, or Guacamole.  Perhaps you've stuck that landing once on Mini-wienies, or perhaps that was the reefer, and not your crock-pot which swayed the judges.  However we position our casserole in the line-up, it's still only casserole. We are all basically a big casserole, an amalgam of parts, and influences, shaped by taste, reflection, honesty, and correction.  Self correction is our most costly ingredient. So what happens when we can no longer be honest with each other?
And... This is not one of those tongue-lashings upon a generation who'd never been asked to help out in the kitchen. Or of a talentless generation who's parents worried more about causing them a bad emotion, than any constructive criticism.  In many universities -- every paying student passes and then graduates.  So, how could you be held to account when you couldn't properly nuke a Hot Pocket?  Mid-Life therapy sessions will later suss out who was to blame that you cannot chop or slice anything properly. Or the chip on your shoulder from helicopter parents who'd failed to make chip dip.  Only You are accountable for your failed launch. Dishonest Disaster struck well before countdown began. Your Parents simply  wanted to be your friend throughout the divorce, so naturally you were never wrong.
Be kind to your parents, because that was a long time ago.., and social pressure forced them to baby you.  It is not your fault that the coddled culinary caravan passed you by as a wee lad, whilst you'd clicked insta-something, and chugged Redbulls in your parent's basement.  But, Can we please stop pretending that 'we' have a silver palette if 'our' singular cooking accomplishment was to mix Red-Hot with Mayonnaise?, or to successfully fry friends-giving turkey without dialing Nine-One-One, again?

What remains unshakable from those infantile years which conceived celebrity chef ethos were their cocaine-fueled F-Bombs, spilling forth from the back room.   Mom-inspired kitchens yielded to a lunatic fringe of Guitar rock, and experimentation, and over-fancyfication of what was once good food.  
Things were getting silly, well prior to 1993, as "Investors" were bank-rolling the most infantile expressions of a new brat pack. And then came Vegas Two-point-O'. With absolutely no authenticity of its own, The desert wasteland known as  Vegas synthesized it's new persona brandishing a fine toupee' atop the Stratosphere, before setting about to recreate Paris, and then Venice, whilst convincing every washed-up singer song-writer, and Magician to take up residence in Sin-city.  It may be Vegas, that slow cooker, where this maelstrom of haut cuisine went sideways. A desert crock-pot incubator of make-believe, bad taste, and squandered resources -- Vegas was certainly complicit in the death of the earnest chef.  Trapeze replaced your sommelier, with ariel acrobatics, and every portion went from Fred Flintstone Steaks a la carte, to Foam, and Glace' courses. When all the M.A.S.H. re-runs had ended, hungry cameras came to devour darling charlatan chefs such as Bobby Flay and his Nacho cat.

Toothpaste exists to drive people to madness.  Why else is an entire aisle dedicated to the same glop? If not to ruin your life?, and to foretell the end of days?, why are we doing this? Toothpaste is dedicated to making a shit-ton of money for massive detergent manufacturers.  You are their patsy, you have been all your life -- And YOU are falling for some strange symbolistic end of days puzzle, which proves that you have so very little time left on earth to make things right. 
You may wish to ask your psychic how this ends.  If you don't yet have a psychic, you could do a lot worse than to call Sondra.
There was a moment when Retail evolved into something lovely, rewarding, and elegant, c.1861, and then there was the moment when retail died. (Let's just say c.1994).  Of course Time Magazine did not decry the "Death of Retail", as iconically as God's Death... [q: "Is God Dead?" a:'Gott ist tot' ]  In a recent slumber party, Nietzsche told me that "they got that article all wrong", [and that] "The article [was] Missing the Point",  AND that [he'd] "prefer not to be quoted any more, just the same", [as a dead person of course...], and after all it was Time Magazine, (which is a rag) So I wont tarry with his legacy here. I woke in a fever substantial enough to finally kill my lingering nasal infection, which is how I know that I was winning the proverbial debate. Abrasive + Fluoride + Detergent = Toothpaste
Toothpaste has literally nothing to do with Nietzsche, nor does Nietzsche have anything to do with Toothpaste... However, The end is near and God IS in fact dead, and your toothpaste saw this all coming.
I have always been mediocre in all endeavors, with ZERO expertise in anything, and less in oral hygiene...  How could I know what the meaning of toothpaste really is for mortal earthlings, our galaxy, or the broader cosmos, except to say... ...Nothing -- Because Toothpaste is bullshit masquerading as patriotism.  Pure and simple toothpaste exists to drive people mad.  Do you really have sensitive teeth and gums? or does your angst with the state of the world make your teeth scream in anguish as you brush far too harshly?
A 2016 systematic clinical review indicated that using toothpaste when brushing the teeth does not necessarily impact the level of plaque removal.[7] However, (it was cited) [that] the active ingredients in toothpastes (fluoride) are 'able to' prevent dental diseases with regular use.[8]
I will say, as the bulbs dim in my ceiling cans, (so to speak) That it often becomes difficult to see with certainty that exact moment when something significant changes. Slow Decay, is something which nearly always appears irreversible, once we actually discover it's movement -- And far fewer people see it coming.  Generally, the Romans didn't see collapse coming, and indeed it took some time to happen... But for a few, who knew they would be dead well before everything went to shit -- Juvenal for example, saw it coming.   Alas "the end is nigh" sandwich boards wouldn't come into fashion for a dozen centuries hence. ...And Juvenal was a satirical poet, so nobody listened to him.  Anyway his acid tongue would not have been tamed with any dentifrice (toothpaste). We all saw that pollution was going to soon account for Asthma, Allergies, Cancers, and many more health complications,  but we preferred our cars to caring about Climate, and health. So why would anyone second guess oral care's effect upon mental health? When it comes to preventing our own destruction, why even bother with Toothpaste? Lest we digress into discussing corollary climate related destruction, Pollution, Toxins, & micro-plastics...,  (also in your toothpaste). For every bullet we seem to dodge, (so to speak) -- There was someone who'd yelled "Duck!", and another round in flight, before you'd flinched the first.
Recently -- I'd also gotten worked up about the unfathomable variety of Deodorant at the corner drug. This is only slightly less confounding than Toothpaste, but because my local stores keep deodorant locked-up behind Lexan Doors, I'd never given this assortment too much thought, (if only because it's such a challenge to purchase roll-on, locked up like Jewelry). Dare I beg to sniff one before I buy it? -- I think I will just go without deodorant.
​If you are losing your religion right about now, you are not alone; hold fast because there is perhaps some squishy wisdom from the toothpaste aisle, but not much. It is a dark  Prediction which may help a wee bit, as we slide off this tilted saucer on an oversized glop of toothpaste. We'd seen it all coming, and perhaps repositioned our bodies to land upon someone less fortunate.
So there is this campy radio Advert. in constant loop amongst mattress ads, and Injury attorneys for "California Psychics" and their golden throated announcer with a western whistler as a soundtrack, explains that some states are great for commerce, others for  banking and such, but if you want a clairvoyant person you need to call someone in California...  They also end their AD reading by saying, "If your experience with "California Psychics is NOT life changing -- Then it is free..."  HMM.... well...
I'm not saying that the fluoride will kill you, but that Toothpaste and making "the right" decision on which model, is a serious talisman of societies' unwinding.
So, What is Toothpaste Actually For? It's for cleaning your mouth right? OKAY!.. Alright. 

But. perhaps you've strolled down the toothpaste aisle, and not even considered why there is a "Toothpaste Aisle".  I wanted to say in full daylight of our dimming future -- that the size and complexity of the Toothpaste aisle is inversely proportional to a culture's advancement, regardless of it's general oral health.. Toothpaste is just dandy! OK? It's unchanged composition, and excessive variety will foretell the imminent demise of all who'd frequent this pasty orgy. I've never heard a radio ad for California Toothpaste, but if it came with the same "Life-Changing" guarantee... Then that would be the brand for me, I suppose.
My grandparents had a full set of dentures by my current age, but I would not call my mouth a win for oral hygiene. And you could guess my age, not by my teeth, but because I listen to terrestrial Radio at home, and in the car. My Grandparent's rapid decay rest upon my beloved grandmother's second-shift job, working on the line of a candy factory for a decade.  If it hit the floor, it was free -- And the cost per calorie in their generation (when there were perhaps three loathsome tooth-paste options available) -- meant that candy would supplement their income in at least two ways -- Flouride be damned.  But they drank tea.  Lots of tea, and black and green tea has more Fluoride than most Toothpaste, so it's fair to say that the Toothpaste couldn't save them then, and it wont save you now.
Regardless of the mid-century ubiquity of Minty Toothpicks, Fluoride, Mouth-wash, floss, etc... one's pearly white enamel can only defend it's castle for so long -- and then the crown crumbles beneath wint-o-green, and butterscotch hard candy.
So today we have better teeth, (perhaps) but diabetes will get you if the tooth-ache does not.
Anyway -- Fluoridation in tap water, ground water, and even tea is so ubiquitous, that it circles back to... What is Tooth-Paste really for?, if not for making gobs of profit for Detergent Marketers.  If you had to invent the perfect widget, with the lowest cost to produce, and the highest margin/consumption rate... I dare say, it may be simply: chalky paste, fluoride, and  flavoring.  (Fluoride [Fluorite CaF2] is the 13th most abundant element on earth).... And yet nobody even considers it's ubiquity, when mixed with Calcium Carbonate, Limestone and AKA Chalk [CaCO3], another uber abundant and cheap component, a paste is formed and mixed with flavoring to make you salivate, but the brushing is your salvation and not the toothpaste aisle.
Fluoride (/ˈflʊəraɪd, ˈflɔːr-/)[3] is an inorganic, monatomic anion of fluorine, with the chemical formula F− (also written [F]−), and, it is essentially a white and colorless salt. There is almost as much fluoride in Green Tea, as a pea-sized dab of toothpaste, right?
So when we begin our California Psychic session, we've already fed a certain amount of data into the "Life-Changing" machine.  Name, Address, Credit Card, and from a few data points one can extract a rather large sample to base-line who's calling.  What I wanted to know specifically and not from a mid-western psychic, was, "whether the end was Nigh and whether Toothpaste contributes (if not) to our unwinding, but then as predictor of our imminent doom".  So I called California to get a base-line on how the Paste Aisle would save/destroy humanity.
And... Don't get me started with Hummus (ous) or Hommous... and IF we are all bound to an exaggerated wordsmith lexicography whereby Three ingredient pastes have culturally sensitive mis-spellings, then we have some soul searching to do before rounding the corner into Yogurt (ghort)... Surely misspelled... and finally into the psychic nourishment of the Frozen Pizza aisle. Whereas variety was once the spice of life, it  now foretells doom and destruction. Here is How.
If everyone you know buys toothpaste, and everyone opens their mind long enough to consider it's constituent parts, then any school-age child (psychic or not) could conclude that the packaging, and then perhaps the flavor profile decided their preference. All of the rest of the marketing is perhaps residual bull-shit.
Have a look at the spin. Toothpaste needn't be applied in a long glob the size of a mature caterpillar, the instructions indicate a "Pea-sized" amount. There is no technical reason that it comes patriotically spiraled, or has "Flavor Crystals" -- There is no upside to an advanced abrasive, baking soda, or "More Whitening"  -- As fluoride and scrubbing are it's only real scientific attributes, and one was more or less disproven. Fluoride itself is used to create Hydrogen Peroxide, and you could simply swish & gargle with some flavorless peroxide to whiten you teeth. Nobody should give two shits about which, or what brand they choose, because it is that  simple -- Toothpaste has but three components: paste, fluoride, and flavoring. The question of what toothpaste is for, has been answered by every dentist, and nearly everyone acknowledges that it may be a good idea.  So we go along with the seemingly logarithmic charade of choice. The fractal fluoride aisle is so staggering in it's complexity as to cause paralysis for many upon entering the "Choice silo" If there were only two or three models, you would be happy?
This was going to be my first question for the "California Psychic".
There is however derision on the topic of flossing. Floss cannot be made sexy, tasty, nor enjoyable by elaborate marketing spin. Flossing is innately masochistic, quite boring, and loathsome. Depending upon your mood, Toothpaste, like gum or deodorant, can be personalized even tasty. Lest we forget, that it is always the same basic shit:  Paste, Fluoride, Flavor... And Floss is just string.
Variety, and we are not discussing chips or beer, but Toothpaste -- Can reach a point where deciding causes angst, regret, even disappointment.  It is fair to say that too many choices exist. If Toothpaste were organized hierarchically such that there were a 'clear favorite', or 'best option' presented with some secondary/ tertiary choices... Then we would not fret, nor regret our selection. But nearly all toothpaste is now packaged in glossy, metallic, foiled and  patriotic cartons of red white & blue.  You are doing the right thing selecting nearly anything except for those "Natural" ones. In fact if you ignore "Tom's" you are still doing your proud nation a favor with nearly any other choice. OH!, sorry I almost forgot, about the latest dark-side lunacy -- Charcoal.  Charcoal, the Yang to Baking Soda's Yin, is a sordid ebony and ivory love story and neither really matters to your mouth.  If you've thought the better of using Charcoal on your arm-pits, whilst wearing a white oxford, then why would you brush with it?  If you were born before 1980 then you would recall a time when Baking soda was NOT marketed as beneficial to everything you'd consume. You simply used it for baking and perhaps some household clean-up. You are going to be fine; IF you could just steer clear of this toothpaste aisle, and all of it's hellish demands. 
My next question for my "California Psychic" was, "Am I using the right toothpaste?" Am I doing this right?
How difficult is the actual act of deciding? The menace of toothpaste whitens, polishes, and sodium mono-fluorophosphate binds atomically (radioactively) to your teeth enamel, bones, and is generally then pissed out within 24 hours.
Fluorine is the 13th-most abundant element in the Earth's crust It is widely dispersed in nature, not entirely in the form of fluorides via the toothpaste aisle, but in loads of natural stuff.
How much do you actually know about your preferences? Does anyone do research on the package claims?: "1000% Whiter Teeth in Just 7 Days", "Noticeably Whiter Teeth in One Brushing", "Restores Enamel", "Lowers Sensitivity", "Freshens Breath All Day Long", "Works while you Sleep" "Includes Carbon Offsets", "With Charcoal" (for some unknown reason) "With Burnt Logs Inside", "For Sensitive Fuckers"...  But will toothpaste actually get you laid?
What is the real goal here?  Brush Brush. 

 Left and Right  as ideological perspectives were coined during the French Revolution, referring to the seating arrangement of the French Estates General. Those seated on the left generally opposed the Ancien Régime and the Bourbon monarchy and supported the Revolution, the creation of a democratic republic and the secularisation of society[7] while those on the right were supportive of the traditional institutions of the Ancien Régime, Monarchy, and the King.  One may choose to sit with like minded peers, just as you did in the classroom, or the lunchroom. If this choice sounds familiar, then you likely live in the United States.  If not -- Then you are likley b.b...b.b...British, or of an era sympathetic to monarchy...  Meaning that you can really relate to being told what to do, by far more affluent, better fed, and likely better clothed role models. Today 'Left', 'Leftist', 'Left-wing' all have their own deeply sordid pejorative fantasies, Or in the very least bad press from the "Right". Six Hundred and sixty six shades of gray matter make up the medulla of the so-called liberal mind. Left has come to represent a crap-ton more deeply confusing dilutions, which confound any Poli-sci, PHD. Whereas, "Right" may simply mean you are a narrow-minded D-Bag.  BUT, This "Right-Wing" curse could also mean (as Ted Cruz would say) -- That you are "Un-Woke"  which is to say... that,  (depending upon your age), you are sleep-walking, fast asleep, sound asleep.., or simply so effen tired of having to "use your words" any longer that you just mutter and eat Fried Chicken.  [See also Right-Wing Senator "#Asleep@thawheel"].
​​

 Sinistrality (left-handedness) affects only seven to ten percent of the human population.  But most Marsupials such as the red kangaroo are left handed, and they amazingly use their left for fine motor skills, but their right for heavy tasks, like shoving and  punching out Right-leaning politicians. The Lefties, have been battling for equal rights such as  proper desks and pens, zippers, buttons, happy meal toys, and such for literally forever.., And yet the "Lefties" are of course in the minority, and so... We can (of course) ignore the claims that they deserve better, or special treatment of any kind because they are few and far between.  Some clearly biased research, written by right-handed scientists AKA "The Right", show Lefties more likely to suffer from certain diseases, or possess inherit traits which make them less amorous, or less desirable -- unless they happen to be in a fight, or pitching in the World- Series.  Herein they have the so called "Upper Hand".
Left-handed people are somehow inconveniently more likely to sit on the right side of The Estates General, Aisle, Parliament, Congress, or the classroom, because that's where they (The [Christian] Right) have placed the only two minority "left-handed" desks.  We used to call these the "Mental Desks", but that was back when "Mental (obviously) meant Smart". Anyway this form of forced recruitment of the Left-handers (Those with a sinistral propensity) is totally bullshit; but it goes a long way to explaining the slight majority, and perhaps Senator Manchin. In the Darkest Times, which are actually today, when we are so plainly close to a civil war, The Orange Criminal actually said in his Veteran's Day speech that: "He [we] will root out the Communists, Marxists, fascists, and the radical-Left (handed) thugs that live like vermin within the confines of our country -- That lie and steal and cheat on elections" So that means that 7-10 percent of the population who cannot find a proper desk, nor zipper, nor keyboard for that matter, are totally fucked come the revolution.
​The Lefties belong to the Proverbial "Left" whatever your oppressive ideology may hold. It should be said that the Left leaning, and the Lefties, can no simpler become an "Un-Woke Conscript" than a Right-Winger can consume their own left-overs. 
That shit is going into the trash simply to prove the elitist rule of Abundant Ascendancy of the Deserving Class, over Prosperity For All by Social Reform.

Afterall... What are you a Commie?
​

"Left-Overs", now known simply as leftovers were once also in the minority, and perhaps also occupied the marginalized periphery of anyone's fridge, table, or recliner, and these "left-overs" were also likely chewed-on the 'left' side of the mouth, but in classical political sociology, there is no empirical evidence that Right-wing, Right-Leaning, The Christian Right, and the Un-Woke do not eat Leftovers... Excepting the fact that the "Right-Leaning" population generally disdains public and social assistance programs -- They would prefer to toss their "Left-Overs" in their own trash simply to keep "The Needy" or "The Disadvantaged" or even the "Woke" from eating them.  As far back as college, one could predict the future tense of their Right-Leaning roommates by watching the fate of their tiny paper to-go containers.  Quantization of this tell-tale indicator of one's political bent, is a rather accurate means to predict whether a friendship could endure.  As a Left-leaning roommate would most likely observe, them with malicious intent trying to destroy said "charity doggie bag" rather than share the bounty of a second meal. The Left self-righteously felt that They should be the one to consume said origami paper take-out carton before suffering the indignity of both parties watching these rot merely to prove an elitist rule of the so called Ancien Régime ​  ...See also 'Monarchy'. This Thanksgiving, I will be spending family time in the "Deep South" where they celebrate  being "Right" nearly all of the time, and never lost the civil war. I will be grateful to recall what all of that being right means. It generally means the civil war is still being fought, and perhaps the proverbial leftovers are collateral damage.
Anyway.  What happens when the Woke, the Left-handers, and the leftovers all get eaten by the so called "Right"?
Right?
This is a quixotic perhaps socio-political thing which evades the "Left" and the "woke", and belies the name "Right", but also defies semantic explanation.  It is like calling oneself super-man,  uber-mensch, or Steve...  You have, (perhaps) the dumb luck (exclusively by virtue of your 'cool-ass' name, like Stephan, or Lars, or Maximillian) to not be called a pussy, simply because you have a cool name. An Emerald Club status you don't have when you represent the "Left". You Sleepy Un-woke muther-fukers smugly feel that your self assured fat ass is always and forever "Right".  Which I suppose is "right", because you never can  leave the Cult, can you?
So, I will again be taking both yours, and my Thanksgiving leftovers home, and I will be eating both of them at my (mental as fuck) rare left-handed desk -- And I will #NOTBEFUCKING (W)RIGHTINGANOTHERFUCKINGWORDABOUTTHATSHITWHILEYOUGLOATABOUTYOURRIGHT (white)PRIVILEDGE on this Thanksgiving Day. Here we celebrate the oppressed (ordinarily the left) saving your fucking fat orange obstructionist ass from Winter's Peril.!
I'm also Grateful for your leftovers by the way.
Thank You.

Your adolescent Hollywood Crush was exaggerated, (of course it was). You know it is fact, that if you'd ever met your pin-up crush, (Eric Estrada perhaps) He'd soon tire of, and come to loath you too. Or soon enough you'd explore his/her dark side -- perhaps within a month?.. Short-lived idolatry doesn't retain the friendship you thought you'd forged. And so the poster comes down leaving tape and tack holes. This is why posters are cheap, and possibly why expedited Vegas Weddings are a real cash  business, but also reasonably priced. 
One does have to ink the deal before the fantasy fades in a wink.  But, most crazy Cults are forever.  Perhaps, this is why winning someone back, never fucking works. No real emotional or tangible capital is spent to recover the wayward ("day jus gone!")-- unless you are Patty Hearst.  What is it with Cult leaders, that sticks so tenaciously to the tongue of the meek? Why do we recite, and  buoy up belligerent balloons (fuckers), at the expense of our true tribe?, Our true selves? -- Escapism?
The chemistry of White frailty crystallizes in the void of positive role models.
Watching cartoons as a kid, was rather straightforward, advancing a classic Good v. Evil architecture. Today, evolutive Heroes and Villains are built more exaggerated & more grotesque, by the year.  Fantastic and fleeting icons with sweet skills, seemed far better than the real people you'd bunk with. But isn't this the current landscape?, Awash with so called savants, super-heroes, charlatans, billionaires, and mega-villains? From the hijacked amygdala of video game and Marvel franchises, flows an Indulgent golden stream of lunatics who teach resentment via idolatry. ...And being a minion is so fuuucking easy, right? Our Current world is populated with similar exaggerated frenemies? All of them boasting enviable lecherous features which defy gravity  & nature. Once meek super-heroes, with some sweet, if altruistic skills, became biopics of complicated inner turmoil; The mental and moral dilemmas deep within the psyche of homicidal Homelander. Our Idols are a smooth and sexy, nee pornographic version of the plain ordinary beige people we'd actually enjoy drinking light beer with.  But, glossy Fakers, and retouched Fucktards  get all the hits, make the clicks -- whilst we ordinary humans wish it so? I don't know any big celebrities personally, but I do know fake, and lame when I see it. 
​
The Internet is an epic exercise in chaos -- A free-market enclosure chaperoned by spoiled children -- It's all a fucking cartoon.
My young hero worship may have been Bukowski, and Miller -- Yeats, and Bowie, but I always knew that they did not give a fuck about me, and these giants came from humble roots. The catalytic effect of positive role models works when we see ourselves within their own analog timelines, and when we see our upbringing as ordinary.  There is no "Kool Lottery"!
Studying Graphic Novels in College (rounding out a liberal arts baccalaureate), informs  the majority that what we imagine is Fiction, is exactly that... Didactic maybe, but false.  What we pretend and what we believe share that gray space, just below the bleachers where bright paths may change, but never seem to. For effect, (perhaps) the internet has made a Porno out of nearly everything pure, wholesome, or altruistic. The Internet, lacks compassion, a compass, and a timeline. When you imagine the calendar, most people see an elongated flat disc, not unlike a clock face, and the months coordinate to ordinal compass headings.  Oh, Hey shit! that's simple human shit! The Internet is an epic exercise in Chaos Theory -- A free market chaperoned by a few coddled kids tugging the strings of every balloon animal floating below its ozone. No clock, No Compass, No mooring Ball... It's all a fucking cartoon now, Everything -- And nobody is sitting far enough back from the TV to tell their fantasy from a polished turd. Stepping outside of their bubble to Storm the Capital was the first real thing anybody involved had done in years, or in decades, so it's no wonder they were excited! 
(They even got permission slips from the President!)
Breathing only the base liquid of the World Wide Web, & of course Fox -- Can the truly idiotic be themselves? Be accountable? Can the misguided know choice?  If Their fate is a vile silo,  should people be forgiven for being stupid?
Today, within the bubble, Kids can't love anyone, because everyone is reprehensible as compared with their avatar.  Youth cannot be intimate, because intimacy requires vulnerability. Nobody is ever wrong, because wrong requires googling alternative facts to right, and fiction is spun to counter bad reviews. Inside the Bubble, good cannot thrive. Each and every conceited twat float their own balloon up a rope in defiance of the real gravity beneath their gaming chair, which takes up a fuck-ton of space in here --  where a drought from anything clever...  will strand most boats.

Some say that the existential crisis humanity will all face from the inevitable maturation of A.I. will be unsubtle, swift, and surprising --And, um-like... well, existential? So what exactly does that mean?
​Well... I'm at this one party, amongst brighter, better looking, more affluent, and far more well-heeled people, who would dare to even speak with a nearly untouchable scum-bag like me, I often exchange blasé' volleys such as answering, "What do you do for a living?", or "What kind of car do you drive?", or some such about the weather, A tragic event, Political faux pas, or even (gasp) a question about a sporting outcome. And I often wonder like you do -- Why is it that nobody knows how to chat anymore?
When I go out to dinner, and pat my hip where my phone should be, like a smoker taps her toast, or an alcoholic washes down osso bucco with vodka... I don't despair, because as each and every other person in the restaurant is up-lit and aglow with their blue screen, scanning QR codes, to order and pay, and texting their friend directly in front of them, before Insta-gramming, the plate they will never really see, food they never tasted, or live streaming their vacuous visit to the bathroom... I continue to talk with my few remaining analog-world friends using an unplugged a cappella voice. I smear some bread in olive oil, and I chew the old school way, assured that my phone is safely on my kitchen counter, where it will sleep all alone well beyond my return home; Perhaps until the next morning when I will likely catch back up with it, and all that miraculous robot inspired shit which I may have missed. I figure 12 hours is just enough time to neglect the angry fuck-tard robots.

When I travel, I often wander unaware, in awe of the vistas, and compelling people, without reference to "recommended" spots, "Google Maps", or an online "hit-list" of "Must See Spots" written by a stranger (or robot) someplace on the innerwebs. I may also get a bit lost, using that paper map from the front desk of my hotel, or the grimy info booth at the train station. It may take me a while to realize that I'm truly lost, and without much ado, I'll likely sit down some place to have a bite, thumbing grease through a paper menu, and orienteering with a mis-folded paper map which will likely get a bit of food and a smeer of some such mess upon it, before I will re-fold the whole mess back into my pants pocket. Actually my pocket isn't a cool-ass slit on the side of my lycra leggings, because I just have the regular pants kind of pockets, and they may not be quite as sexy or slimming as a sheer body-suit with a lump-like bulge for my gadgets, but they do work to keep keys coins, and the poorly folded filthy maps  and money and  such handy.


When I go to a rock show, I actually watch the band, en-vivo (GASP!), regardless of how small they may appear from my cheap seats, and I'll rail against the temptation to watch the whole show from the far tinier 2 x 4 inch glow of that one dick-face directly in front of Row 234, seat 7A, holding his screen up in everyone's way. Somehow I get the feeling that nobody (even that Dick-Head holding his device in the air right in front of my face for each and every fucking song for two tedious hours) [Nobody] will ever see that low-light, shit-tastic video of this entire show buried in his phone. I'm also pretty sure even the fuck-wit in front of me, and the one five seats to his left, and the girl two down... have yet to see any of the performance themselves. When the clapping comes -- Because they both have a piss warm IPA in their left hand and a phone in their right... None of the thirty-eight-hundred of those other D-bag zombies in the same venue holding both beer and phone, could clap. But what cool person would do that anyway?

When I walked along the ocean, listening to the sea, and skipping stones, I often brush past and perhaps even photo-bomb a really fucking hot young couple who know exactly how to hold their phone just perfectly -- Because the app tells them how -- And the GPS point which  is most meaningful, give or take a few Millimeters. The Robot even tells them from what angle to snap the perfect post-able image. I realize they are really in love with themselves or each other, or whatever -- But I also wonder if they've left their shoes on simply because they forgot they were actually at the beach; Or if the app told them that the outfit wouldn't show up as well if they were a few centimeters shorter. Anyway, the sunset which they never saw was lovely, that night, and they giggle and pout their lips and angle the camera from above to shadow their weak chins and improve their hunched drop-neck postures, to remarkable fanfare from "friends" afar. I continue with my feet in the water until I'm completely immersed to cover my undies, and I realize that being in my underpants may not be what they wanted as their back-drop, but they can just use a filter to soften my form into fuzz for their dissolving bokeh horizon, and a shit-ton of digital applause.
Do you think the A.I. is also this conceited, or have they not fed that data into it's way smart mechanical mouth yet.

Saturation by A.I. Driven Dark Thoughts, and Horror, will certainly come to this new world when A.I. finally matures, right?
Somebody said the other day something about some such political event, and I remember that they were all up in arms, and later they were losing sleep because they heard such and such about this one really horrific event "that really fucking happened!", and how barbaric the slaughter was, and the sheer inhumanity of it was of a scale which would surely give rise to more violence, and more blood-shed, and they just had to tell me all about what I should definitely also be losing sleep about, ...and that these "Um like, one terrorist dudes were so fucking bad...", as they showed me some grotesque, but blurry images of some such atrosity some place. And so I took a sleep aid to fall asleep that evening and was restless all fucking night and my dreams were fitful and startling, and I could not focus for days at work, until I read in a real live newspaper that all of those images which were fucking aweful, "could not be corroberated by fact checkers in both the government nor in the media and soldiers may have exaggerated, etc..." and that perhaps they were actually even, "um-like faked". The next night I finally slept rather well. Until someone else reminded me about the hurricane, and the wild fire, and the Tsunami, and the bomb blast, which I was supposed to definitely follow on this one guys blog, and this one news feed, because I should stay up on current events of gastly proportions, and... "um-like  I should also be losing sleep as well, dude", said the robot.

And Last night right before bed I'd set the thermostat lower because it was a cool autumn night, and I knew this for a fact because my phone said so, and Also I had just come back from a long walk with the dog, and so I could corroborate with my (smart)-Phone that it was in fact a cool breezy autumn evening, and later when I woke up to grab another blanket, (because I was chilly) I glanced over at my Dumb-Fuck "Smart" thermostat, and it was set to 64 and was running for a while now rotating that tiny wheel on my electric meter so fast that I'm pretty sure I should be getting an SMS from the electrical utility to let me know I would be punished, and... Well I had to actually remove the piece of shit Nest Thermostat from the wall to get back to my icy sheets to try to catch up on sleep with all of these climate tragedies, and terrorists, humming this one live version of this one live track that I think I recall seeing on this one guy's tiny glowing device right in front of my face, and I think I remember him and his girlfriend checking this one blog with some other fucking tragedy, and some really fucking beautiful people on the beach at sunset, and I fell a sleep and I think that I'd dreamt about living in the woods, in a sod home, with an elevator, and wickedly fast satellite internet that I wasn't paying a dime for, but I didn't sleep well, so I cannot be certain.
Later just before dawn, I woke up cuddled my dog, and checked my phone for air-fares to anywhere but here. And... I recall that post by that one blogger who seemed to agree with that one billionaire who was also definitely wearing the same fucking cool ass shoes and the same T-shirt as that one dude in front of me at the concert who ruined the show. Seems the Robot already got to them, by making everyone dress alike. Both of whom seemed to keep popping up in my side-bar on the airfare web-page... and they both were discussing the "Existential threat" and the future of A.I., and they both had the same phone in the same silver phone case in their right hand, and a glass of tepid water in the other, and they were gesturing animatedly about how amazing A.I. would be, in the future...
The Future. (laugh)
The next night was Saturday, and after the play, We were out with some analog friends at a bar chatting with some newer A.I. people lit from below by the blue glow of someone's phone, and The good looking one said, "Um-like, what do you think about this new A.I. thing?" Existentially? I took a slow sip of my stale Red Bordeaux, and I told him, "The Fucking Internet already Fucked up the whole Mother-Fucking planet, and I blame Google and The fuck-tard Robots for your total lack of understanding of the word Existential"!

Prove to me you are a human, and then we'll talk.
Most People won't try stuff that they know they will totally suck at.
For me it's dancing. Dance like so many other human endeavors seem to be well simulated by A.I. now, (on-screen at least) but dance used to be considered an exclusively human sport.  It's fair to say that A.I. likely danced better than me well before A.I. was even a thing; But if you live in the simulation, do we need real dancers anymore?
Pleading with the A.I. right before it replaces you on the dancefloor seems a tad bit foolish. We should feel a touch ashamed when we can no longer generate an original thought, or pop a move glued to our screens. The new robot beats us to the Discotheque to spin off some sweet moves.  Today, writing a Dear John Letter to a GPT may be the wrong way reconcile your right to dance. (See also Kevin Bacon). 
Shouldn't we just let the machines decide?
It turns out human proof is getting tougher to find. Petitions, are generally penned to convince people of something which one could not be taken for at their word. Whether you consider yourself well informed, or are a generic sceptic, There is a maddening emergence of gullible fucks in this world. They run parallel to smarter and smarter artificial intelligence, so it's no wonder we were duped by tech to stay home and stare at screens, buy stuff, and forfeit our fancy moves for an occasional twerk.
Most people will buy any story and buy any product if influenced to do so (on-line). This is largely owed to aspiring to be something which we are not -- While The same baseline humans may require convincing to just try a new food. Meanwhile the flotsam and jetsam of mediocrity merely clutter our path to extinction? It would seem the game has already been lost, before we woke to protest.
Should we develop nonhuman minds that might eventually outnumber, outsmart, obsolete and replace us?
One rung up the listless ladder, clings the self-described sentient humans, who may have tired of fast-fashion, botox, Ozempic., and the corollary Social Media pressure to "be like" someone else. In the 0.0 cult, we won't despair our dashed aspirations, because they were simply unrealistic., e.g. 0.0.
This second tier species still subscribe to Magazines, and (gasp) Newspapers, They may have season tickets to theater, opera, and may even read hard-cover books before bed.  The latter complain about the same shit as the former, but believe that their complaints are well reasoned and self evident.  The tide of blasé beige who we swim against daily, are standard issue skeptics. Whereas both groups seem to await an extinction event, which nobody wants to discuss; The third group thinks they can outsmart the monster -- Don't they always (See also Jeff Goldblum)
Mid course Refresher of irrationally simplified even nasty General Categories:
A. The zombie army cleaning their AR's awaiting instructions from their Orange-In-Chief.
B. The other half  is reading the paper, and Considering  their environmental harm.
C. A splinter tech faction writes a rhetorical letter to their own Computer for mercy.
Pop Quiz: Are we prepared to fail magnificently?
Most of us seem unfazed by the hot topic of Advanced A.I.'s new world order, except of course for those who wrote the code.  So is this like Oppenheimer and the "A" Bomb? one of history's holy shit moments.  Meanwhile, Today's Most over-worked media catch-word is: "Unprecedented".  (See also Trumps first indictment, tra-la-la!)
Should we risk loss of control of our civilization?
Me, I'm ready, (I think) for cleverly written A.I. Dramas, and Books, and Jokes, and Blogs, and News.  No screenwriter will ever get bored, or get writer's block; so episodes will go on forever, and ever. Fade to  "White Lotus" 2035 in Space.
A.I. driven wall street bets, and A.I. fueled political fires have been burning for a long time. Sure, nobody loves when A.I. hacks their Email, their identity, nor their bank account, but nobody will need email if friendly A.I. fields every question, and replies to every text. 
​Self assured dictators will soon consult A.I., to make their next strategic move, as the ancient Oracle of Delphi once used Facebook to plan your weekend?
 "Should we let machines flood our information channels with propaganda and untruth? "
Ok Wait! Stop! What?... This was actually written in the "Open Letter" signed by Elon Musk.
You can conserve water while our common ground smolders, but shouldering the blame to date for a divisive split falls largely upon a Gen-1 A.I. called Social media. Sorting people into silos is what social media billionaires got rich from. Perhaps we will all be played against each other by our smarter A.I., as we have since the ancient times when Google and Facebook ran amok with our shopping lists, venomous Twitter rants, and tasteless Take-out food. But there is also a chance that better A.I. would consider a broader swath of data, than the captive format it uses now which keeps America blindfolded & bickering. 
There is a human element missing from our Selfish-America-Game which makes people seem so despicable, yet is it really Group A's fault that they lack free will? 
From the first flick of a pinball, sinking past both flippers without a bounce -- You know.
By the third swallowed ball, holding your quarter you think, 'Bad luck', 'The table isn't level'?..
'Both'? Dastardly! -- The dark art of predictable placement is the handmaid of Social Media.  Hell, choice left the building circa 2002. What makes a country of has-been celebrity-crazed narcissists so un-appealing, and un-inspired? It's not our collective inability to enjoy ourselves as built,  -- But not knowing why we are miserable that is concerning. (coveting what we don't have is A.I. v.1).
...And perhaps it's our reticence to change our minds which keeps us hovering over the abyss of human entropy.  For our acute void of free thought, we can blame our laziness and the "information age".  Today, some of  the same people who have testified to Congress that their Platforms are "safe", and "fair", are warning us against a smarter version of the game they built... the one unshaped by them.
"Should we automate away all the jobs, including the fulfilling ones?"
Today the Musk-siah, and The Venerable Woz, wrote a petition asking if we would  all mind just pumping the brakes on this treacherous new road to A.I.  Their "Open Letter" (a petition) claims that the world is just not quite ready for full frontal robot, at least without some curbs built-in to stay the course, and to keep us out of the gutter. Psssshh! Paaleeeze!
"Implement a set of "shared safety protocols for AI development", which would be overseen by "independent experts".
Me, I was an average bowler, I drive like a teenager, I'm likely a bad kisser, and a far worse dancer, and yet I have no interest in dating an A.I. (as yet), so I think I'm safe.
A few months ago, I got a Roomba mis-delivered to my house, and I promptly sold it unopened on Ebay.  I'm not ready for robots in my home, and I think I'm also not ready to be pen-pals with the GPT thingy, let alone tantric machine-language android love. (see also Cobol aka (/ˈkoʊbɒl, -bɔːl/; an acronym for "common business-oriented language")) My utter lack of technical expertise further underscores why I'm not yet a signatory of the "Open Letter" to the great and Powerful A.I.  
Failure has always been one of your options, perhaps not your Plan B, but always lurking.
I really don't know, but it is a real lark to hear pundits preach around the A.I. crisis, at schools and universities.  Last week a  dumb-shit cosigner said that advanced A.I. is nothing more than "Word Processing Program", or "... um-like Spell Check", or perhaps like that One HP12c Calculator you used in Trig, and Calculus in the 90's
The funny thing that Androids, Advanced A.I., and Narcissists all have in common is a complete lack of shame. This is why one should peek under the hood of lord Tesla, to find what Musk's ulterior motive may be to petition all of Humanity against advancing A.I. right at this moment.  I am of course a bad judge of people, and I don't know much about anything else... But as sure as squirrels enjoy pizza, I know that Musk could give two shits about your particular robot love affair with Chat GPTxxx, or about Google doing your Math Homework.  There is something deeper in his code, which should be sniffed out. Like Pizza?  
Is it that his Car's Autopilot,  Dogecoin Farm, and several of his startups are about to be hacked by a nearly sentient server with evil urges somewhere in New Zealand?