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I Am So Worried About How Coders Describe Us to the ChatGPTs

By Terry Trowbridge

Photo: Steve Johnson / Unsplashed. Brain, technology
Photo: Steve Johnson / Unsplashed

Rote dataset memorizers practice uncomprehending axiomatic maxims as if deus ex machina comes mechanically, as if cognitive coherence comes from combinatoric repetitions of premises that worked once, worked twice, worked their ways into accessible scripted data sets constructed pragmatically amid clichéd undercurrents prescriptively decrypted and meant to assume muffled silences where previously sentence parsers perceived Chomskybot combinations innumerable beyond the universe’s heat death but no, not anymore, the secrecy of data sets skimmed by webcrawlers, spiders, collected computational conspiracies, that all elide nuances while solidifying a momentary fad into concretions meaningful, meaningless, meandering nowhere or always to one destination somewhere in the California codices or Virginia server farms or alternative American databases freebasing free-flow information without cultural context, removing remoteness by comparing other places to Los Angeles lexicons, linguistic pet theorems as if Linguistics were liturgical truisms and/or subliminal heuristics consolidated and input/output sold to salesforces law enforcers surveillance storage lorem ipsum lithography inscriptions – and all of them – digitally imitating magnetic strips pretending to perceive imperceptible patterning for producing repetition of the society of speakers so that one moment palindromes the previous palindrome of the previous palindrome of the previous until the practice of repetition possesses the perceptions, imaginations, potentialities, and make-believes that history and premonition look exactly the same (speaking rhythmically, rhetorically, revisionism provisionally and revanchist officially), data-streams feeding small morsels mechanically completely covering-up the coexistence of change, colinear parallelisms, and dictionaries until all language is as extinct as the thesaurus smashed to Chicxulub shards by the impact factor of the memetic Tourette’s tics totalizing the distracting digital LED media telling us when to eat, breathe, and get back to work to pay the debts we accrued by doing as we were told.

 

About the Writer:

Terry Trowbridge is a Canadian living on Lake Ontario, a plum farmer, a sociolegal researcher, and a book reviewer. His poetry and essays have appeared in something like 100 different journals, zines, and chapbooks. His Erdős number is 5.




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