[Nhcoll-l] Its that time of year again

[Judith Price]

Thank you both once again, and bless you for your "mixed phrase and axiom with bad puns galore”!

Happy Entropy to all
Judith

> On Dec 10, 2023, at 9:08 PM, John E Simmons <simmons.johne at gmail.com> wrote:
> 
> Is Artificial Intelligence Both or Neither?
> (St. Entropy vs. the Machine)
> (Number XXXIV)
>  
> ‘Twas the Night before Christmas, etcetera, full stop.
> It was silent and dark out, just like my laptop.
> The museum had closed later than ever before;
> The holiday partiers had at last found the door.
> There was tinsel in places we did not know we had places,
> And all our exhibits sported ribbons and laces.
> The wassail was down to a few flammable drops,
> But this time we ended with no need for cops.
> Not a creature was stirring, or whirring, or moving:
> Taxidermy is like that. It does not need improving.
> In the rotunda the curators were collapsed in a heap
> Smiling at visions of grants in their sleep.
> And I? I was trying to close for the night.
> I removed all the tinsel, tucked the curators in tight,
> Took the hats off the fossils and the lights off the director,
> Moved the punchbowl slowly out to the security sector.
> Hoped the sparkles were glitter, not arsenic flakes,
> That hanging artifact-mobiles had been made with fakes.
> I turned off the lava lamps, counted to ten,
> And took the lights off the director. Again.
> It had been a long night of museum mirth and glee,
> So not a thing on exhibit was where it should be.
> The office was covered with papers and files,
> Stacked on the floor and piled in the aisles.
> The stockings were hung by the chimney by threads,
> So I rummaged around in my desk drawer for meds.
> As I looked at my desk, my heart filled with dread,
> As a slow throbbing feeling began in my head.
> I glanced at the tasks that I still had to do,
> It would be New Year’s at least before I was through.
> Then I thought of a fix that should just hit the spot,
> Sat down at my desk and typed “Help_A_I_Chat_bot.”
> When out on the lawn there arose such a din,
> I sprang from my desk (which left a bruise on my shin).
> Away to the window I flew (okay, slithered),
> Tore open the sash, and then I just dithered.
> The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow
> Looked so real I almost forgot it was faux.
> When, what to my wandering eyes should I spy
> But a miniature sleigh all a-fly in the sky!
> With a little old driver, so lively and quick,
> I immediately wondered…just what was his shtick?
> And then, in a twinkling, just as advertised,
> St Entropy himself glowed and materialized.
> His eyes, how they twinkled (could they be LEDs?)
> And he sounded so lifelike with each gasp and wheeze.
> When he opened his mouth, words came out in a tumble
> But alas, any meaning was lost in the jumble.
> He mixed phrase and axiom with bad puns galore,
> And spoke in a way that was hard to ignore.
> “Happy Easter,” he said, “will you be mine, Valentine?
> O! say can you see by the fruit of the vine?
> Now it’s over the river and once we’re across
> I want to get rid of this dead albatross.”
> I realized at once (though this isn’t official),
> His problem—intelligence too artificial.
> He had gleaned and he’d gathered, that much was clear,
> But somehow it got mangled and came out a schmear,
> I spoke not a word, but went right to his back,
> Found the red RESET button there under his pack,
> I pushed it, and held it, till he turned with a jerk,
> Then picked up his bag and went straight to his work.
> He downloaded packages, boxes, and bags,
> All neatly tied up with ribbons and tags.
> As he handed out presents, I stayed on alert,
> To make sure that the wrappings all were inert.
> The Saint was now once again a good fellow,
> And he shook when he laughed, like a bowl full of jello.
> He then filled the stockings, as he was required
> (Alas, just with gift cards that all were expired).
> But, when laying a finger aside of his nose,
> The software quit working and AI Saint froze.
> I tried to restart him, but he stayed in position,
> And I had to do something to aid his condition.
> So I grabbed a cart and, with a swing and a sway,
> I loaded the AI Saint back into his sleigh.
> I reprogrammed the reindeer to fly back to the Pole,
> And, as they flew, I raised my glass and cried “Skoal!”
> And I heard him exclaim, ere he headed back north,
> “Have a Happy Thanksgiving and a jolly good Fourth!”
>  
> (AI refused to write this for Sally Shelton and John Simmons. It may not be intelligent, but it’s also not artificial.)
> 
> 
> John E. Simmons
> Writer and Museum Consultant
> Museologica
> and
> Investigador Asociado, Departamento de Ornitologia
> Museo de Historia Natural, Universidad Nacional Mayor de San Marcos, Lima
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