I read with interest that there’s a form of AI that can turn around an AI project overnight.
Simply tell the computer what you want to build, and voila.
Kind of takes the whole purpose of educating ourselves and remembering stuff to an unnecessary level.
All the while, at a hospital in Sydney, a scientific team has been able to restore nerve cell connections in the brain that are destroyed by Alzheimer’s.
These cells are thought to store memory.
Premier Steven “500” Miles must have the need on occasion to visit Sydney.
Because there’s been a whole lot made of him forgetting that he sent a text to a fellow MP during a parliamentary sitting.
The text asked his colleague to apologise for something she did, because being vulnerable is in vogue these days.
When caught out, he too apologised to parliament, because that’s how politicians are forgiven for their mistakes.
At which point, the person who caught him out apologised for taking a “creepy” photo which led to “500”’s apology.
What begins as a contest to determine who’s more wrong than the next person becomes a wrestle to see who’s more sorry.
But it did get me thinking.
I don’t think I’d ever forget sending a text.
As I run through my phone, I see a cheeky message from a person at the club who thought it would be funny to send me an emoji of an eggplant.
But I wish I’d seen the look on their faces when I returned with an emoji of a banana.
No flies on this old fella, hey?
Then again, I wouldn’t send more than three texts a day. Much easier to remember that than a poor Premier who has reason to text his buddies all day long.
Granted, the text he claims to have forgotten was a rather long one.
But our man “500” probably has advisers who do most of that for him.
If he wasn’t in parliament, he’d probably have passed his phone to someone else who could create a text for him. In which case, it’s much easier to forget what you haven’t done in the first place.
Or maybe he told Siri to send it.
“Hey, Siri,” he might have said in a whisper that those around him couldn’t hear.
“Send this text to Ali,” as he verbalised his instructions.
Even so, the nature of the direction was quite memorable, whether he used his fingers for a traditional text, or muttered a tactical muse under the mahogany.
Yet, here I am having to remember to pick up toilet paper and toothpaste on the same outing that I’m focused on finding myself a new brand of gin.
It’s confusing. Like our man “500”, I’m focused on the core task at hand, and side distractions get in the way.
The Premier’s trying to work out the best way to disparage his opponents, only to find his own troops have made an error in judgement.
He quickly reaches for the phone, deals with the issue and steps back into bulldog mode.
I get it. When I’m dissecting the shelves of Dan Murphy’s, I’m in bulldog mode, solely focused on the nuances of new flavours and how they may pair with the Tasmanian brie we’ve got sitting in our fridge.
Will the elderflower be overpowered by the sesame seeds on the indulgent crackers we found for half price?
Or would the fruit-infused version with notes of pepper be too savoury for the homebrand crackers that remain half-opened in the cupboard.
They’re important decisions to make when investing in a bottle of modern Schnapps.
All of a sudden, I’ve walked out of the liquor store with a prized purchase, driven halfway home and realised I was supposed to stop at the supermarket.
So I turn around, buy some bench wipes and a tube of sunscreen, and return home relieved that I’ve not forgotten to do as Wanda had asked.
Hey Wanda, I’m curious. Why are there bench wipes wrapped around the toilet roll holder? And shouldn’t the sunscreen I bought not be next to my toothbrush?
I’m a little forgetful, you know? I might end up poisoning myself.
