Tag: just goofing around

Friday’s Wandering Thoughts

Technology fascinates me. It has since I first read about microwave ovens and satellites in the mid sixties, when I was less than ten years old. That’s why I want to spread the word about the latest technology I’ve heard about.

Ever have confusion about what you thought was just said? For example, your wife suggests you go for a ride, and you think that she wants something fried? Or you hear something that sounds like a gunshot and she claims that she didn’t hear anything. Instead of sitting there, listening for a repeat of the sound, or wondering if she’s deaf or you’re crazy, you can access a small device and have the last ten minutes of sound repeated for your benefit.

Sounds crazy? Did to me but this help is being offered out there in the form of a new AI system I spied on a television commercial the other night. I’m seriously thinking about buying it.

This miracle device is called Whazaid. Here is a brief description. First, a control interface is downloaded onto a phone or laptop. A rechargeable device that’s about the size of a U.S. nickel will record everything being said around you. How far around you can be adjusted. It’s said to be so effective, Whazaid can capture the sound of pet kibble hitting the floor in another room.

That depends on where your put your Whazaid. It has a tiny clip that lets you put it on a shirt collar, hat bill, or a bra strap. Anything kind of fabric, really, like the top of your pants or a shirt or pants pocket. It can even be clipped to an ear lobe. The thing is, wherever it’s placed, its effectiveness is depended on not being blocked so it can pick up sounds.

The device can record 28 hours worth of conversations before it needs to be charged. The inventors say that’s about three days for most people but it can vary. Although it has a terrabyte of storage, recordings will stay on your device for thirty days unless otherwise marked by the control device. A subscription can be set up so that everything recorded is backed up on the cloud.

Whazaid’s AI feature has a smart filter that will separate sounds being heard. This is where the AI, which is based on IBM’s Watson, comes in. As the system records and identifies sounds, you can taylor sounds you want recorded. For example, you probably don’t want to record television shows or movies, and exclude them.

Then, the AI will learn your preferences and modify your settings for you, if you wish; that’s something set up on the control. Whazaid will also attach the speakers’ names and mark conversations with subject, date, and time. If you allow the optional location feature to be turned on, Whazaid will also mark the location.

Using Bluetooth hooked in your ear, you can also give the device verbal commands. So if an argument starts about who said what, you can tell Whazaid to playback a specific recording by subject, time, or speaker(s). It’ll play it back privately but can be mated with laptops or phones so it can be played via those devices and their speakers so everyone can hear the recorded conversation.

For example, my wife and I had a frustrating exchange about what was being said about plans for this Friday. The moment devolved into a classic he said/she said disagreement that left us both dissatisfied and irritated. If I had a Whazaid installed, I could have resolved it right there.

Another advantage, though, is that it can record lectures. A disadvantage is the danger presented to classified information, or comments confided to you in private.

Whazaid isn’t cheap at about eleven hundred US dollars, the early adopter price. But the technology entices me. I’m getting older and it seems like disagreements about what was said or heard are multiplying. So I am very tempted.

I might wait until it’s available at Costco, because they usually have better prices. If I do buy Whazaid, I’ll let you know how it goes. How ’bout you? Are you interested in Whazaid?

NOTE: Whazaid is totally fabricated. It only exists in my mind.

0

Thursday’s Wandering Thoughts

Received a sharpish wake-up notice this morning.

At about 6 AM, I was pulled out of a dream at Papi’s request. He needed to go back out. Papi, aka the ginger blade, likes to come in and nibble some kibble, and then go back out to see if anything has changed outside.

Letting him out, I shrugged off the dream to think about it later and nestled back under the covers. At that point, I felt and heard Tucker get off the bed. A minute later, I heard him crunching kibble.

Silence came.

Litter box scratching followed.

That’s when I came fully awake as Tucker did some business and launched a stench that exfoliated my skin.

Had to immediately empty that. The good news, I told myself, is that last year’s COVID bout didn’t seem to affect my sense of smell.

Good to find those silver linings, even if they’re in a litter box.

4

Wednesday’s Wandering Thoughts

I’d been sitting and writing for almost ninety minutes. The coffee was cold, the mug almost empty.

My rear end requested a break. I agreed that it was a good time to break, so my rear end and the rest of my body went for a walk.

Sunshine flooded the area as I left the coffee shop. Within a minute, heavy rain began descending. My head whipped around in search of a rainbow. None spotted.

A woman was coming up the sidewalk in the opposite direction. Slowing as she reached me, she asked, “Where’s the rainbow? I see sunshine and rain. There’s gotta be one.”

Laughing and nodding, I answered, “I looked and didn’t see one.”

She resumed her previous pace. “Well, there’s gotta be one out there, and I wanna see it.”

2

Monday’s Wandering Thought

I’m a regular at one coffee house in town. There are other regulars but I’m told that I’m one of the most consistent and dependable. I spend a few hours a day in there, drinking my favorite black brew while sitting in the corner, writing.

The baristas and manager all know me just because I’ve been coming here so long, and we chat when I’m ordering. We talk about football, politics, books, news, movies, etc. They know my drink — it’s always the same — so ordering is not necessary, though paying is. It isn’t unusual for them to hand me my drink when I step up to order.

I suppose this is why one small but touching practice has evolved. For whatever reasons — miscommunication or mistake — they’ll end up with food that the customer they made it for doesn’t want it. This includes pastries, cookies, brownies, cake, and sandwiches. So often, they walk across the crowded room to offer it to me first.

I am touched but usually turn it down. I have more than enough to eat. While I appreciate it, I think there are others who would appreciate, enjoy, and need it more than me. And, when I turn it down, they do find another who wants it.

0

The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly

It was The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly in our backyard, if that movie was done by cats.

The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly is a 1966 spaghetti western film. That name, ‘spaghetti western’ was given to a series of western films based on the US west, but generally written, directed, and produced by Italians and filmed in Europe. Sergio Leone was one the leaders of this movement. With a string of successful films, he became influential in how westerns were made. This film was one of his masterpieces and judged by film critics to be significant.

Clint Eastwood starred in several spaghetti westerns, including this one. The movie’s morally complex story is that three gunfighters are searching for stolen gold during the American Civil War. The gold is supposed to be buried in a cemetery. The three men are searching and fighting for it while coping with the war going on. They eventually find the cemetery. A final showdown is set up.

It’s a climatic scene, delivered with long shots of the three gunfighters interspersed with tight close ups of the squinting and sweating sunburned men as flies pester them. These movies were always gritty and tense, with impressively realistic details. A music box is playing – yes, it’s part of the story – along with the titular theme song. When the music box finishes, the gunfight commences and finishes the tale.

My cats, Papi and Tucker, aided by a stranger, recreated the scene in the backyard. A jay provided the background ‘music’. Standing in an equilateral triangle about eighteen feet apart, Tucker and Papi faced off against a gray and white stranger.

Tucker is a black and white long-haired/short-haired mix with crazy long, white whiskers. There looks like some Maine coon in those whiskers, along with his ears and face shape. He used to be a fierce fighter but has finally chilled as he’s aged. Papi, the ginger blade, is years younger. He’s been in a few fights – he was in one just last night – including at least twice with Tucker, but prefers to not fight if fighting can be avoided.

A strong wind was blowing. Tucker was in sunlight on a small knoll on which three trees are perched. Their branches blew wildly over his head. The stranger was back by the wooden plank fence between two bushes. Papi was in shadowed dark green grass. The only movement I saw on the three floofs were small eye slides and ear shifts.

Though Tucker isn’t the right ‘colors’ to be Eastwood, his expression was worthy of being Clint’s character. I could easily imagine a cigar in Tucker’s mouth as he stared down the other.

A few minutes into it, Papi slowly settled into a more comfortable watching posture. Tucker followed suit a couple minutes later, encouraging the third cat to do the same. They stayed like that for about three minutes. Then, Papi, I guess growing bored, looked around and discreetly walked off. Tucker lowered his head down for a nap. The stranger carefully shifted, and then went up the fence and away from the scene.

All very anticlimactic. While it reminded me of the famous movie scene, none of these three participants were ugly. I can’t speak for the stranger, but my two can sometimes be good, or bad. Come to think of it, they’re as morally complex as the gunfighters, and just as entertaining.

0

Sunday’s Wandering Thoughts

A woman in the coffee shop accosted me today. We’re both regulars. We see each other there, sometimes nodding. I’m always at a table, using a table to write. She’s a few years older than me and typically buys something to eat, checks her phone, and reads a book.

Today, we said hello. I was in the midst of revising a page. She asked, “I notice you always a wear a green hat.”

I do; it’s a Tilly. I nodded.

“Is there a reason for why you wear it?”

Deeply seriously, I replied, “Yes. It has a foil lining built into it.”

Puzzlement folded into her expression. “A foil lining?”

“Yes, you know, to protect me.”

She studied me. I think she was trying to decide if I was joking. Smiling and nodding, I returned to my writing.

0

Wednesday’s Wandering Thoughts

I heard about a wedding — and this wasn’t my nephew’s recent wedding, I hasten to clarify — where the best man didn’t know what he was going to say, so he asked AI for help. AI provided him a speech. The best man then personalized it. After he spoke, no dry eyes were found.

That AI realy knows how to push our buttons.

1

On Becoming A Geezer

For a friend…

Becoming a geezer, if I may be so bold,

is more about a state of mind than growing old.

Geezers look back on time with misty eyes,

lamenting the lack of truth and the growth of lies.

They’ll disparage the young — “This generation” —

they say with a grunt and a sniff,

“Does so little no wonder the country’s adrift.

“The way it used to be is so much better,

“Like communicating with loved ones with a postage letter.

“And the things which they watch,

“The things which they say,

“The way that they dress —

“That’s not my way.”

Then they break off with a mumble and words which aren’t clear,

And say to the server, “Please bring me another beer.”

0

Friday’s Wandering Thoughts

I was in the Pittsburgh International Airport baggage area, awaiting our luggage’s arrival as though they’re rare precious animals. We’ve already taken the first needed steps after a long flight of relieving our bowels.

It’s weirdly quiet here; sounds echo in the tall, wide chamber. Other passengers sprinkle in , surrounding the system like an army laying siege to a fort. We’re all cold, with postures as though we’re huddling. Airport A/Cs are usually set low enough to preserve popsicles.

I recognize fellow travelers, such as the tall elderly man who wobbled slowly up the jetway, and the young Japanese woman in colorful fleece pants and jacket who appears as if she’s walking while asleep. Most people are silent as they wait, checking messges or reading emails on their phones; a few start talking on cell phones, giving all of us broad strokes about where they’re at, where they’re going, what’s next for them.

A harsh buzzer bellows. The red light on its single metal tube begins spinning. Mechanical grinding and groaning rises. The metallic system commences its hurried orbit around the central chute.

We watch and wait, watch and wait, arms crossed, sighing, coughing, as the belt goes around bereft of bags. Of course, it’s the end of a journey for the bags, too. Hundreds of yards away, they left the aircraft and are traveling the system. It’s supposed to go faster than the passengers, so the passengers don’t need to wait.

That has yet to happen at any airport I’ve ever used in the United States. At last comes the thump announcing the first bag. A red hard-sided piece slides down the chute with a hiss. We crane forward to see the lucky person who claims the first bag.

It isn’t me. My bag is black, I remind myself. My wife’s bag is brown leather. Sighing, I cross my arms and look forward to the next bag, watching as it bumps along, waiting for its person to show, feeling dismayed as more bags are claimed and the others trot away. Then, finally, a flush of triumph; our bags have cometh.

Bags claimed with grunts of exertion, we hustle on to the journey’s next stage: the rental car counter. There is some relief that all has gone well. I feel myself shedding travel anxiety. Every step has the potential to disrupt safe and succeful travel. Knock wood, it’s gone well for us.

We leave the baggage area tired but smiling, pressing back into the terminal against the flow of people coming down to find their bags. Good luck, I think to them.

Good luck.

0

Aflooferation

Aflooferation (floofinition) – A word created that associates an action or behavior with an animal’s antics.

In use: “One aflooferation that M uses is pogoing or pogoed. Pogo was a sweet buff ginger cat, a twenty-two pounder who loved hunting and playing. Once, startled when M’s wife was rubbing Pogo’s belly, dropping her long dark hair over Pogo’s face, he swatted her hard on the head with both front paws, claws retracted. Ever since, whenever a cat hit one of them with their claws in, they say that the cat pogoed them.”

2

Blog at WordPress.com.

Up ↑