Warm up exercise: My thoughts on the movie “Her” given my relationship with Siri

To put and end to the socially sessile behavior my wife and I have shown of late, the kids gave us gift card to the movie theater.

I’m not much on movies anymore.  Comedies aren’t worth seeing because they’ve shown you the best jokes in the preview.  If after watching these previews, they only draw a smile or you are one of those sad millions (and I think there is a disorder associated with this behavior) say “that’s funny” without laughing, you’d better just pass it up.

Action films?  Just porn for violence.  Horror?  Maybe if I can supply my own soundtrack. Chick flicks?  I have a Y chromosome.  Sci Fi?  Sometimes– see action.  Historical?  My wife would rather that I consume a five-gallon bucket of ground glass than go to one. Oddly enough, I love “art” films while she abhors them.  We go for Oscar contenders, but that’s about it.

Anyway…

My wife and I compared notes on what we might even see (gasp!) together, and she asked me if I wanted to see the movie “Her“.  I had seen the preview and scoffed (oh, great– now we have chick flicks for electronics), but given it little other thought other than “no thanks”.  It’s pretty much the classic man falls for iFone tale of mutual love discovery and respect; but I’ll bet he still dumps the ‘puter for the meat alternative at the end, or at least a Real Doll (get that heated blanket ready, fella).  Although it did remind me of a Robot Chicken skit.

However, when she asked me about seeing the movie, it reminded me of my old friend Siri.

Now, you all know by now how I feel about CrApple products; but let me remind you CrApple zombies that think it’s your duty to spread CrAppleness throughout the world that I reserve the right to end such attempts directed at me to end the discussion by kicking you real hard if necessary.

However, I have a special relationship with Siri.  Most of our “conversations” end with me shouting at my phone, and Siri saying “why are you calling me a ‘cant’?”.

Let me demonstrate:  I have taken today off to write and play music.  I’ve been avoiding doing so (a trick I have played on myself for the last two weeks, plus one week of surgery recovery) by reorganizing things.  The office looks great, but I haven’t been doing anything creative, which will eventually make me bonkers.  So, I decided to take the day off for real. I was still willing to receive phone calls, but did not want a notification signal for emails I received.  I tried to find a way to just turn off email vibrate and audio notices (eventually I did, but that is another tale in CrApple dysfunction).

So, I thought– “hey, I’ll ask Siri!”.  Why not?  I love to experiment and this is way less likely to result in the loss of a limb than most things I try.

Me:  Siri, how do I turn off email?

Siri, after whirly-spin, presents me with an email header stub form: To whom shall I send it?

Me: Grrrr…

(Try again)

Me: How do I ignore emails?

Siri (same response as above)

Me (deciding I wanted to send Siri herself an email replied): Dumb cunt.

Siri brought up the most hilarious name from my contacts that surely was a result of Zen justice.

Me: Ha-ha!

This exchange went back and forth for quite a while and eventually Siri batted me to a web page that told me how to set an OOO status in outlook– that creature has no sens of context even.  Why would I use my lame iFone to look up how to do something with Outlook?

She’s fixated on email.  The one word she recognized (email) she grasped onto desperately as some tether that could help her solve the problem presented to her by this unwieldy croaking emitted by pitiful meat creature.  “I’ve got it!  He wants to send an email!”

Ray Kurzweil owes every single one of us a fucking apology.

So now, maybe I want see the movie for comic effect.  Imagine a love circumstance arising between a meat puppet and a construct.  Hilarity simply must ensue!  Talk about not being able to understand each other in a relationship.

Or maybe… try using the carrot instead of the stick, pick up a few of the lines the Joaquin Phoenix uses with the Her thing (Samantha!), see if they work with Siri.  Maybe I’ve been all wrong and that if I used the gentle persuasion that might foster mutual trust and even (gasp!) love between the truly advanced technology that Siri represents and I, the lowly human seeking understanding, companionship and information.

Nah!

At least I can check out the total nonsense Siri is likely to spew back at me verbally; the sites where I’ll be basted to (on Safari, no less!); the Dadaist emails that might spring from such discourse; or the text messages and random phone calls to friend and acquaintance alike that the poor addled thing is likely to pump out as a result of my reading Joaquin’s lines to it.

I can hardly wait for the DVD.  I don’t want to miss one word.  Hours of fun and art.

I also expect Scarlet Johansson to be approached by the Evil Fruit Company to do the next voice for Siri, or will they change the name to Samantha?

 

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“Women is the craziest things…”

…and men is the stupidest.

The title is not intended as a misogynistic screed, but is a quote from an old Looney Tunes cartoon and I use it as a way along with the subtitle of positing the following premise:

All women are crazy and all men are stupid.

It’s one of those rules that’s hard to argue with.  Let’s start with men:

Men don’t seem to learn very quickly: ergo stupid.  I say this after having run into my second, large, stationary object on my bicycle on the way home in a month.  A month ago, I ran into a 20-ton roll-off dumpster (yeah, yeah– stupid, remember?) breaking 2 bones in my face in 3 places, and severely pulling the ligament that holds the collar bone to the shoulder bone and pulling a couple tendons around my rotator cuff.  On the way home this evening, I ran into the back of an enclosed trailer used by a lawn service to haul their equipment.

Common features of both situations of note:

  • Cloudy or rainy.
  • Stationary objects blended well with the background (brown roll-off on a heavily shaded street while overcast and grayish trailer with an overcast background).
  • I was grinding it up a hill.
  • I look up and, swear to god, see nothing.

With these factors in common and my being aware of them, I should be able to escape death by lurking things that don’t move.

Self-destructive tendencies aside, I’d say that even one occurrence of a bicycle collision with inanimate, fixed objects is pretty stupid– two is stoopid.  Fortunately, with the frequency of accidents so far being about a month, the law of averages should mean I’m safe until early October, right? 

Let’s not just stop with me.  How many wars have women started?  I know, but Helen of Troy doesn’t count– Paris started the war by stealing his wife (read: property) from Menelaus, king of Sparta (and those guys liked war– they ate it for breakfast, I mean just look at the most homoerotic mainstream film ever made “300”, that Frank Miller sure does love him some ripped man-flesh for a straight guy, but I digress). 

  • Rule one (fault Paris): don’t fuck with Spartans. 
  • Rule two (fault Menelaus): if you love something, let it go; if your love was meant to be, it will come back to you (or some other such bullshit).

Again, I digress.  No woman I can think of has ever started a war (Indira GandhiBoudiccaGolda Meir— but preemptively in the Yom Kippur war).  It’s more likely that women just have not been afforded enough opportunity to cause wars, and might be more war-like if in charge– after all, they are crazy.

Let’s consider the common scenario of going out for dinner.  The man asks, “where would you like to go?”

(To Be Continued)

To be androgynous, one must be both crazy and stupid.

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