I read an article recently that discussed “AI”. Y’know, “Artificial Intelligence” — two words that seem to be somewhat antithetical. One hears a lot about it these days. It cites the current Hollywood writer’s strike, noting an AI-written sitcom that had “no laughs.” Really? They’ve been infusing “laugh tracks” since Desi simply had a sophomoric crush on Lucy. Airline pilots are concerned. Flight crews have been pared down to a pilot and co-pilot. What’s next — inflatables? Thanks, but no robot putting my seat and tray table back up for me! What of my unfinished drink?

As one often heralded (or ridiculed) as a “creative type,” I’ve always championed change. Innovation! Gumption! Inventions to make life less cumbersome, tasks more accurate, or time more efficient. An electric toothbrush enables me to more effectively maintain dental health. My audiologist promises hearing aids that translate. It hears French (or Spanish or Italian), and spits English into your head (Sacré bleu)! My phone’s camera documents pictures of my lunch for sharing with friends. When I head down to Portland, my GPS reminds me: “Hey! Wake up — we’re in Worcester!”

Few of us write letters anymore with an actual pen. British monarchs still use faulty fountain pens that occasionally dribble on their drivel. Bloody hell, that. I reluctantly approach “self-checkout” lanes. I want a smiling someone cheerfully asking, “Did you find everything you were looking for?” Even though its obvious that I did — and I’m kinda anxious to leave. That said, I might fancy a grocery cart that would return itself. (Fantástico!)

I’m as uneasy as a fish on Friday about AI. There’s some mighty scary predictions. More than I have room to add. Like, the end of “civilization” or “humankind.”

I’m not sure about you, but that causes me a tummy ache (indigestione).

Buddy Doyle

Gardiner