Never underestimate the power of rebranding…
…as long as you don’t pull a Jaguar
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NAMASTE???
liar, liar, broomstick on fire you space witch!
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Time to go to sleep… night night lovelies!
Also: another time, completely…
Photograph: Hat plus 5 roses, by William Klein for Vogue Paris, 1954
Back then, smoke on the face of a beautiful woman meant a mysterious, seductive lady.
Now we think of how badly she would reek of spent tobacco and tar (and how would her kisses taste, yuck!) and the glamour is gone…
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I was today’s years old when I learned that electroswing author Parov Stelar is Austrian.
And he’s gonna have an act in Eurovision contest 2026.
Which is like the second thing I’ve learned this year about that contest, aside from the Israel kerfuffle.
Also, with regards from Ishtanchuk:
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Just tried it. I hit it with a thorny issue.. One that has plagued the US for decades. Got back what I would call a sensible counter argument. That while did not exactly contradict me, but pointed out some issues that do need to be considered. But that was just one question and it did come supporting peer reviewed supporting evidence.
At the same time I did not check to closely what it was using as evidence in supporting its counter argument. Keeping in mind that AI have, in the past, made things up wholesale with what appears to be a peered reviewed study or article. Only to discover that such had never been written by anyone. That the authors it cited had never even studied or wrote such a paper.
Entertaining and food for thought, but I will keep in mind that Ai track record on its lack of truthfulness and a willingness to give an answer. That it thinks the person asking wants is not all that great. Should always be considered before believing a word that comes from an AI.
But beyond that.. A good thought experiment and entertaining all the same.
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Time to go to sleep… night night lovelies!
Also: just one more round…
Photograph: Chinese women playing the sap ma hand drinking game, 1920s
Sap ma is one of many games based on two players showing a different number of fingers in one hand as they shout what the sum of both players will be; if both miss, the game carries on, but if one gets it right, the other player loses and must drink from a glass of alcoholic beverage. There is no end game per se, and it just goes on until one of the players is too inebriated to continue.
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Nineteen-year-old Private James Sullivan stood blindfolded before a firing squad of eight soldiers in Boston Army Base on November 10, 1917, convicted by military court-martial of desertion—but what the firing squad didn’t know until that moment was why he’d deserted—and fifty-five-year-old Commander Colonel William Morrison had read the charges: “Private Sullivan, you are sentenced to death by firing squad for desertion in time of war”—and James had said loudly “Sir, I request to make a final statement”—and Colonel Morrison had said “Proceed”—and James had said “I deserted because I discovered my twelve-year-old sister Rose had been married to a forty-one-year-old man while I was at training camp. My father sold her for $600. I went AWOL to try to save her. I found her pregnant at thirteen. I took her to authorities. Then I returned to base and turned myself in. I accept my sentence, but I want this firing squad to know I deserted to save a child, not from cowardice”—and Colonel Morrison had halted the execution immediately and had said “Firing squad, stand down. Private Sullivan, I am commuting your sentence pending investigation”—and the military had investigated, discovered Rose’s situation, arrested her husband and father, and had discharged James from service with honor instead of executing him—and James testified at his sister’s rescue trial, and the firing squad transcripts became evidence that even soldiers facing death prioritized family protection.
James lived until 1979, dying at age eighty-one. Before his death, he reflected: “I was nineteen, blindfolded before a firing squad for desertion. They asked if I had final words. I said I deserted to save my twelve-year-old sister who’d been sold into marriage while I was at training. The commander stopped the execution. I was willing to die to save her. Instead, my confession saved me and convicted her abusers. That firing squad never fired. My words were more powerful than their bullets.”
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And bound feet. Glad they finally got rid of that barbaric “tradition”.
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Time to go to sleep.. night night lovelies!
Also: she wasn’t too happy to be shot this way…
Photograph: Buckeye School student on the way to school. Pocahontas County, Marlinton, West Virginia, 1921, by Lewis Hine
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Time to go to bed again… night night lovelies!
Also:
Photograph: A soldier and a friend at a busy beach in Corpus Christi, TX, 1943
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Time to go to bed… night night lovelies!
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Calm down Zaera.
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I had no idea Yiole was female?
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without sleep, without back pain
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How do you get an AI to capture and use a face from a portrait? Or just throw 200 prompts at a wall and see what sticks?
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Bob worked better than Rose. 
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