LILEKS (James) :: The Bleat for Monday.

The picture doesn't lie, but it omits. The clouds were moving with brisk intention, but you can't tell that from the image. The trees were taking a breather after a minute of bending deep and waving back and forth. There's a plane out of the frame with over 200 souls on board. The dog is probably sniffing rabbit spoor by the fence. I can tell you all that from a memory no one else has. Does it matter? No, but it's every photo. Looks like we'll have to rely on video!

Oh, right, can't trust that either.

Sorry. I've been playing with image-to-video, because why wouldn't you? It was a break from Saturday errands and chores. My digitally enhanced and glamorized self strides the streets of 1940s New York while I shiver as I scurry across a suburban parking lot. Heck, maybe I should just stay home and build a fantasy New York and put on the VR goggles and just order everything delivered -

NO. Going out is a necessary element to life. Sometimes you have to push yourself and expand your boundaries, experience new things. And sometimes you're out of ice cream and it's ice cream night, and also the keyboard has a Bad D.

Apple store first. The keyboard that had the magic finger touchpad was much more expensive than the plain one. This wouldn't have mattered, except they didn't have the plain one. But! An Apple associate found one in the backroom. I explained that the touch-feature was nice, but you know, it's not that much work to double-click my watch to unlock things. I mean it's literally twice as much work to double-click as touch a button, but I can manage. We chatted about Apple ID email history, Mac to Me to iCloud, how my mac.com was study and classic. I left feeling like a venerated elder.

Phone store next, to see how my trade-in situation stands. Numbers were crunched. Options were offered. It struck me that you only buy a phone once. Everything else is just moving numbers around.

I went to Lunds, and thought I am in an ice cream rut. Problem: I absolutely love the chocolate type with thick ribbons of peanut butter. I love it so much I may be blind to alternativies. What am I missing? Ah: I remember that Lunds gelato I had, the one with a caramel ribbon. Let's get that.

The entire ice cream freezer is empty.

Aww man. Freezer failure. Poor guys had to empty it. When I'm self-checking out the manager asks if I found everything, and I noted that they'd had a freezer failure, eh? He asks what I was looking for. I tell him. He says he'll be right back - they moved everything to the big freezer. A few minutes later he pops back with the proper item, and I'm grateful: that was a good thing to do! It's why I shop here. Thank you.

Three fairly ordinary interactions, but enjoyable and civil. No one would ever sit down and make AI videos about them. There aren't any dragons or anime women or fireballs or spaceships.

If I had pots of money to throw at it, I'd sign up for an AI video production account and write little noir movies. It's a tool. It's a medium. Probably conjure up some AI music for a soundtrack instead of laboring over the software and keyboards for hours making myself miserable.

Is that good? That is not good. The other day I was listening to some unfinished projects, and had that depressing thought you get when you consider the galloping pace of AI accomplishments: why bother?

It's a bad thing, that. Civilization depends on people bothering. The Apple store guy bothered to check the back. The grocer bothered to hunt through disorganized piles in the freezer for my flavor request. I bothered to do this Bleat, I suppose, and the other two pieces I will gift to an indifferent world tomorrow.

As for AI music, the capabilities are increasing, but there's a ways to go. I've had some remarkable results. But I asked one of the generators to give me a late 70s progressive rock instrumental with accoustic guitar and synthesizer, and the 30 second result was laughable.


		It's like everyone in Genesis recording in the middle of a stroke.

The trademarks of a 100 years ago is our theme this year. Almost everything is recognizable and sensible to us, which is one way of saying that 100 years ago is hardly anything at all.

The trademark expired in 1977. The registered agent had other brands, according to Bizapedia:

The Amos James Grocer Company, Brentwood Clayton Trade Center, Nation Wide Stores Company, My Butcher Of Big Bend Inc, Topmost Produce Service Co, Allparts Warehouse Inc, David Goliath Stores Inc, Forsythe Inc, and Forsythe Inc.

My Butcher of Big Bend, eh.

One of many JOHNNY movies. It’s odd, and it’s good.

It’s two radio guys: Howard Duff and Wally Maher.

Maher’s great. I don’t know why he’s not in more movies. Maybe because he died too soon: 43.

Wally Maher (August 4, 1908 – December 26, 1951) was an American actor, primarily on old-time radio; he was also known as the original voice of Tex Avery's cartoon character Screwy Squirrel.

This guy just leaped out at me. I’m probably wrong.

I mean, what are the odds? They made a million guys like this back then.

It’s one of those “documentary” style odes to branch of the government, with a voice over. Loaded with sharp shots.

A fellow named Anthony Curtis; wonder what happened to him.

Who’s the pigeon?

The always reliable Dan, who gets a 24 hour pass out of stir to introduce Duff to some crooks so he can make a bust and STOP DRUGS FOREVER. Dan’s on board because his wife just OD’d so now he’s mad at drugs. There’s a scene where Duff and Dan meet with a mid-level distributor, and everyone’s nicely attired. It plays exactly like a scene from Dragnet, where the undercover guys who are trying to make a connection get all angry and tough because their credentials are challenged.