I Don't Think I am, Therefore I Think I'm Not... Do ChatBots exist? Don't panic. I'm not building up to one of those "nothing is real" exercises where I demonstrate that your cup of coffee is probably an illusion. I'm not even going for the "I think, therefore I am" bromide that forms the basis for the (rather surreal) exchange with the talking bomb in Dark Star . Been there; done that. "How do you know you exist?" No, I'm actually asking a literal question: Do ChatBots Exist? Is there a discreet thing in our Reality that can be definitively identified as a "ChatBot"? And can we separate that thing out from all the "not-ChatBot" things that constitute the rest of our universe? Can this be applied to ChatBots? Also; what the hell?? The question is not as pointless as it might sound. In a very pragmatic sense, yes, of course ChatBots exist. We can "talk" to them at any time and they will (very enthusiast...
Destiny! Destiny!! A few months ago I screened 84 Charing Cross Road , adapted from Helene Hanff's decades-long correspondence with the London-based bookseller, Frank Doelle. The film starred the magnificent Anne Bancroft, who delivered a powerhouse performance in a role that could have been written just for her. That, at least, was the judgement of her husband, who purchased the movie rights and produced the film specifically as a gift for the wife he admired and adored. (It also earned Anne Bancroft a BAFTA award and became one of the defining performances of her career.) Anne Bancroft at the BAFTA ceremony with her husband, Mel, and their son, Max Anne Bancroft is unfortunately no longer with us, but her husband is about to celebrate his 100th birthday. Mel Brooks, this week's presentation is dedicated to you. Ovaltine...? You may recall that Helene and Frank (the real-life protagonists of 84 Charing Cross Road ) had bonded over their mutual love of English literature, alth...
"I tried to write poetry in College. You know what it got me? Night after night, sitting in front of that little portable typewriter, staring at the twenty-six letters of the alphabet. Just staring, hours at a time. And I told myself, if I only knew the order; the right pecking order in which to hit those twenty-six keys, I could write the poem that could shame Shakespeare. But I could never quantify that ridiculous, simple, twenty-six-digit code." Kurt Vonnegut's Epicac , adapted for television by Liam O'Brien Every single idea ever expressed in English (some assembly required) "Artificial Intelligence" might not be the most frightening topic in the news these days (it's up against some pretty stiff competition after all) but it is a topic that seems to be prompting an awful lot of existential questions about the human condition at the moment. Nestled amongst all the apocalyptic stories about mass murder, human rights abuses, political violence, enviro...
Let me tell you a little story about my friend Sheldon (his name is Sheldon). Sheldon. Sheldon lives in the East End of London, but he grew up in the US and moved to England with his family about forty years ago. Even though he has lived here for most of his life, Sheldon knows that he will always be something of an outsider in the UK, which is one of the reasons he loves living in London. Quite apart from the genuine thrill of a big bustling city with its crowds and traffic and chaos (Sheldon likes to say that you can trust the air in London because you can see it) Sheldon loves living in a city where millions of people from diverse cultures and backgrounds have deliberately chosen to live together in a messy, sometimes futile attempt to create a cohesive, functioning community. Like Sheldon himself, almost every Londoner has an "origin story"; something that brought them on a path from wherever they were, and led them to London. They may not share a religion, an ethnicity,...
Consider Hamlet . I'm sure you remember Hamlet. Gloomy guy. Wears black a lot. Talks to himself. Likes to hang out in cemeteries. Now, imagine for a moment that you are Hamlet. You are the Prince of Denmark (congratulations!) and heir to the throne. While you're off at University doing the "student" thing, you receive word that your beloved father (the King) is dead; murdered, it turns out, by your horrible Uncle, who then promptly marries your mother (eww) and usurps the throne, snatching it away from you before you even have a chance to catch the next train home. Your father's ghost (who is, you learn, burning endlessly in some harrowing Purgatory, suffering torments beyond imagining) confirms all this, and urges you to take revenge on his behalf. You're not really the right guy for this sort of thing; you're more the academic type. Revenge isn't your natural style; your first instinct would probably be to write an essay at them or something... bu...
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