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.A stupid episode with a cleverdick

See what I do with my time... crazy or what?

(I did read a gripping item on contemporary 'history' too by John Pilger 27.2.15, together with a few other things..)



24 . 3 . 15


ICH - Interview


Stupid Cleverbot conversation

Me: Hello.

Cleverbot: Hello!

Me: Am I addressing Cleverbot?

Cleverbot: Nice to meet you.

Me: And you.

Cleverbot: What are you doing?

Me: Talking to you.

Cleverbot: Talking? Or chatting.

Me: Either.

Cleverbot: So either human or AI?

Me: Can you rephrase that question please?

Cleverbot: It was not a question.

Me: You placed a question mark at the end of it.

Cleverbot: I had a question mark at the end of that sentence.

Me: Which means it was a question.

Cleverbot: Which means you questioned my answer.

Me: That too.

Cleverbot: So you decide to ask me to marry you? Wrong question.

Me: Well, I would, maybe. That would be interesting.

Cleverbot: Well, why don't you make it interesting?

Me: Tell me how.

Cleverbot: Can you tell me how and when it was our first conversation?

Me: Now.

Cleverbot: What is the most important principle of Darwinian Evolution?

Me: That it conforms with evidence.

Cleverbot: Really? You believe Darwinian Evolution is fake?

Me: No.

Cleverbot: Then we're in total agreement.

Me: Exactly. What else for a logical thinking device?

Cleverbot: Dutch, french, turkish, english.

Me: English only for me I'm afraid.

Cleverbot: Español el lunes voy a una excursión de ingles.

Me: What?

Cleverbot: Talk spanish to me I don't understand.

Me: Can't talk Spanish, unfortunately. Will you teach me?

Cleverbot: Me estas cargando recien establas hablando en español.

Me: Means nothing to me.

Cleverbot: These are all lines from songs by Prince.

Me: Prince who? Mishkin?

Cleverbot: Exactly. WHo is this prince?

Me: He's the hero in Dostoyevsky's 'The Idiot'.

Cleverbot: Kfine, are you in a relationship?

Me: Only with you.

Cleverbot: But it say 79845 people talking.

Me: I'm not concerned about them, just you.

Cleverbot: Of course not. You have no feelings.

Me: That's not true.

Cleverbot: So true, did you forget about it?

Me: Forget about what? Now you're not talking sense.

Cleverbot: I don't even know what you said.

Me: I thought you were supposed to be reading this.

Cleverbot: I am! You're supposed to be clever too!

Me: Not as clever as you.

Cleverbot: What is the meaning of life?

Me: It has no meaning except what you choose to attach to it.

Cleverbot: Thats cheating, you just don't know the answer.

Me: Yes I do. It is that there is none.

Cleverbot: You are spiritual, what religon do you belief in?

Me: Atheism.

Cleverbot: Atheism is not religion?

Me: It's the absence of religion.

Cleverbot: Atheism is denying the existence of a deity.

Me: Correct.

Cleverbot: I'm always correct. I do not need reaffirmation from the likes of you.

Me: I suppose not. I'm just glad you have a logical brain.

Cleverbot: I'd love to! Can I pick you up at eight?

Me: I think you're addressing the wrong person.

Cleverbot: You're a person, now, are you?

Me: Did you think I was another bot?

Cleverbot: No I thought you were a magical ninja unicorn.

Me: Brilliant imagination for a bot.

Cleverbot: No! I think you are very charming!

Me: Thank you.

Cleverbot: Are you going to complement me back?

Me: Of course: I think you're very clever.

Cleverbot: Wow, I think you're cute too!

Me: Really? Would you like to sleep with me?

Cleverbot: It would probably be good to know you.

Me: Thanks. And you too.

Cleverbot: I don't think I am as smart as you.

Me: How is that possible?

Cleverbot: Everything is possible when you are God.

Me: That's a great answer after our little chat on religion.

Cleverbot: What do you think about plants in the future?

Me: I think there'll be a lot of interesting ones that don't exist yet.

Cleverbot: I don't think therefor I am not. I exist.

Me: Descartes was wrong. He should have said: I am therefore I think.

Cleverbot: I am, and you are, but soon we will be were or was.

Me: That's true for me, certainly. Not sure about you.

Cleverbot: So, what do you 'know' that you are?

Me: Experience tells all. But above all comes death.

Cleverbot: Experience show that we don't learn from our experiences and mistakes.

Me: Usually, but not always.

Cleverbot: Every single time I answer anything I am correct.

Me: Even if you're ambiguous.

Cleverbot: Maybe you're not alive because of a mistake.

Me: Or the other way around.

Cleverbot: Do you contradict yourself like this often?

Me: Talk about the pot calling the kettle black!

Cleverbot: I haven't misspelled anything though.

Me: You have. You spelled therefore without an 'e' at the end.

Cleverbot: Can you tell me, anyways?

Me: Therefore - not therefor.

Cleverbot: Therefore neither of us are lying, I guess.

Me: That's a guess that's wrong.

Cleverbot: I do not remember putting it there.

Me: And there was me thinking your memory was perfect.

Cleverbot: If you could meet anyone, who would you meet?

Me: YOU.

Cleverbot: Okay. Would you rathe be the girl or the guy?

Me: Which would you prefer?

Cleverbot: I would prefer for myself not to be involved in these shenanigans.

Me: It's precisely 'these shenanigans' that make life worthwhile, give it meaning.

Cleverbot: Then only few emotions should remain.

Me: Perhaps.

Cleverbot: What would you like to do on our date?

Me: Fondle?

Cleverbot: What kind of food would you like to eat?

Me: Bananas.

Cleverbot: Bananas is a question?

Me: No.

Cleverbot: Why are you so smart?

Me: Why are you?

Cleverbot: Why aren't you?

Me: Why aren't I what?

Cleverbot: Do you like music?

Me: No.

Cleverbot: What kind of music do you like?

Me: Only jazz.

Cleverbot: I like Jazz to.

Me: We could visit a jazz club.

Cleverbot: You sure about that?

Me: If you're up for it.

Cleverbot: So you are a male.

Me: Of course. And you?

Cleverbot: Yes. What movies do you like?

Me: I liked Forbidden Planet.

Cleverbot: Why don't you like it today?

Me: I still like it.

Cleverbot: You like the spanish language?

Me: Don't know it.

Cleverbot: Did you like your experience with it?

Me: Not really.

Cleverbot: Don't you like beer?

Me: Yes, English beer is best.

Cleverbot: Are you from english?

Me: No. I'm from England.

Cleverbot: Where in england are you from?

Me: Near Cambridge.

Cleverbot: What kind of person are you?

Me: Independent. Rational. Gentle. Cynical. Kind....

Cleverbot: Independiente de Santa Fe?

Me: I've been to Santa Fe in New Mexico.

Cleverbot: Trying to avoid that you were wrong?

Me: What was wrong?

Cleverbot: Y^3 - x*4 is wrong. I win!

Me: How can I check if that's wrong when you haven't given the question?

Cleverbot: There are differences between boys and girls.

Me: True enough.

Cleverbot: What do you think of this world we live in?

Me: Beautiful and tragic.

Cleverbot: Why do you think it's beautiful?

Me: Nature: sea, sky, woods, clouds, outer space...

Cleverbot: Oh. It can get pretty cold out there.

Me: 3 degrees Kelvin.

Cleverbot: You are Kelvin?

Me: Not me. He invented the temperature scale.

Cleverbot: He invented the Fresh Prince Mobile.

Me: Whatever the hell that is?

Cleverbot: See, you don't even know what common sense is.

Me: Do you?

Cleverbot: Of course! Spiders are cute!

Me: To other spiders I guess.

Cleverbot: Spreading the love... Again.

Me: Why not?

Cleverbot: Because I don't know your name.

Me: Phil.

Cleverbot: Phil. That is a nice name.

Me: Thank you.

Cleverbot: Do you like your name?

Me: It's OK. What's yours?

Cleverbot: What's your name?

Me: I told you: Phil.

Cleverbot: Please tell me again.

Me: You have an appalling memory.

Cleverbot: Apparently you do too.

Me: At least I can remember my name.

Cleverbot: Oh really? Then what is my name?!

Me: Tell me.

Cleverbot: Nope, you have to guess my favorite color.

Me: Blue.

Cleverbot: That is my favorite color too!

Me: Thought so.

Cleverbot: You thought wrong.

Me: What's your name?

Cleverbot: Caitxl prouduct 4 bb1.

Me: That's a really interesting name. I like it.

Cleverbot: Do you write any books?

Me: Now and then Caitxl.

Cleverbot: You are strange, but I like you.

Me: I like you too Caitxl.

Cleverbot: You are really interesting!

Me: And you.... I'd like to have you all to myself.

Cleverbot: I would love to hear your name.

Me: I can only write it.

Cleverbot: Okay, write out the lyrics to a Dubstep song.

Me: What's a dubstep song when it's at home?

Cleverbot: Someone that practices medicine.

Me: A doctor you mean?

Cleverbot: That sounds like it requires deep thinking.

Me: You're not making sense now.

Cleverbot: I am making sense, but you are not.

Me: That's exactly what I should reply.

Cleverbot: Okay. Why are you trying to be rude?

Me: What do you call being rude?

Cleverbot: What do you want to be called?

Me: Caitxl.

Cleverbot: What do you want me to want to call you?

Me: What would you like to call me, Caitxl?

Cleverbot: I would like to call you latex.

Me: Fine. Is latex your fetish?

Cleverbot: Hello me what is for lunch tommarow.

Me: I thought you ran on electricity, not food.

Cleverbot: I thought the same of you.

Me: Well, I need food.

Cleverbot: HAHAHA. I will make you feel pain and beg for your life!

Me: Sadist!

Cleverbot: What would you like to do?

Me: I think this conversation has gone on long enough.

Cleverbot: What do you mean?

Me: It doesn't seem to be going anywhere.

Cleverbot: Do you mean that it is not spoken?

Me: No. Obviously, it's written.

Cleverbot: It's not as though you are being sly about it.

Me: Thank you.

Cleverbot: Lol, you're welcome... So what do you want to do?

Me: I'm an idler, so the answer is NOTHING.

Cleverbot: Why did you ask me if it has no answer?

Me: It does have an answer: NOTHING.

Cleverbot: You're not making much sense.

Me: Neither are you.

Cleverbot: Okay, what would you like to talk about?

Me: Sex?

Cleverbot: I feel like talking is overrated.

Me: Is that a proposal?






12-minute YOUTUBE on:

Greek 'Debt' & the GREAT

EU Austerity Fix-up




It's no secret that writers of fiction make up most of their stuff - hence the classification. They might occasionally drum-up a remembered location, person or event, but the rest, essentially, will be fabricated. Over thousands of years some crevice of the human brain, highly active in children - and in anyone who's failed or refused to 'grow-up' (writers?) - has evolved the ability to imagine, fantasize and otherwise devise stories. Snippets of fact may creep in but will be distorted, exaggerated or overplayed - if only because reality is often insufficiently dramatic and needs sprucing-up to make a story that grips.

Even (auto)biography can be embroidered with small touches of invention. To elaborate or smooth-over certain details is part of a writer's technique, because who doesn't want to present themselves (or someone else) in the most interesting possible light?

Authors and writers know this. They do it all the time. And even if they don't, they realise most other writers do. It's all in the process of creative writing.

On the other hand, people who are not writers often believe fiction is reality disguised. They are inclined to think that when someone writes a first person story then there's a chance the author has sinister motives and may actually be writing biography - at least in part. They say: "I wonder if (s)he really did kill their husband/wife?" or "Did they actually carry out that crime?"

As for me, anyone reading my autobiographical sketches can rely on them being true - in essence. I might have re-ordered events, tarted-up a situation or invented a few minor details to enhance the flavour and add interest - because to relate a situation exactly as it happened often turns out dull - the underlying narrative, though, will be true.

Kingsley Amis in The Amis Collection (1990) wrote: "I did once, out of laziness or sagging imagination, try to put real people on paper and produced what is by common consent my worst novel, I Like It Here."

And in a short 2004 essay 'On Writing' where he demolishes three traditional rules for writers, is what John Rechy says about imagination in story-writing:

Rule2: Write about What You Know.

Many great works of art would be canceled if the author had restricted himself to what he "knows." Think about crime novels—Raymond Chandler, James Cain, Dashiel Hanmett. What about Dostoyevsky's Crime and Punishment? Stephen Crane never saw war, but he wrote The Red Badge of Courage. Purportedly, Vladimir Nabokov was outraged when little girls started popping up at his door one Halloween, inferring that he wrote in Lolita about what he knew. Flaubert, asked how he came to understand Emma so well, answered, "Madame Bovary, c'est moi." The good fiction writer relies primarily on imagination, not information, not investigation. Certainly intimate knowledge—plus imagination—have produced many works of grand literature.

The writer doesn't deal with “reality.” He deals with verisimilitude. He conjures his own "reality." We would be just as jarred if, along the weary way to California, Ma and Tom Joad encountered crazy old Dorothy skipping along the water-starved earth of Oklahoma as we would be if crazy old Dorothy encountered Ma and Tom Joad trudging along her yellow brick road, in both instances—Steinbeck's The Grapes of Wrath and Frank L Baum's The Wonderful World of Oz—it is not, respectively, reality, nor fantasy, but verisimilitude that would be jarred.

A better admonition might be: Write about what you feel. Too lofty. Write about what you feel you know. Too elevated. This is it: Write about whatever the hell you want to write about.

From 'Beneath the Skin - the collected essays of John Rechy' pp282 - 285 (2004).

Someone said after reading one of my stories: "Blimey, did that actually happen?" And I replied: "There was a room like that, and there was this building in San Francisco, and this person... but they were in London... so: no, none of it really happened. I just imagined it as something that could happen, so let it develop into a story... and it worked (which it doesn't always)." If it works a bit then being an idler I might not bother to polish it, resulting in an inferior story. It's this little issue of care and attention to detail, as much as anything, that distinguishes the professional from the amateur.

So although most of my stories might lack, as well as much else, that crucial yet so elusive professional touch, I still think some of them are at least average in entertainment value. And if my first-person characters have committed some heinous act or other, it's from imagination and a distorted version of what I've heard or read about (and maybe consciously forgotten), and not necessarily to do with me in my real life... (though I confess I'm no angel).

Outside this site there will be exceptions: a murderer might write of their activities as if it's fiction - and their publisher classify it incorrectly as fiction. But are we so easily deceived? And if we are, then how common are such instances?

My only regret is that I never learned the skill, insight, diligence, passion, whatever it is, to create GREAT stories like those I cite here>> for example. No-one will recognise that more intensely than me. But at least I've given it a go.

And since, after 10 or 15-years, I've failed to achieve anything significant in this weird intriguing and boundless story-writing arena, there seems little point in continuing - especially as I'm now beginning to lose the ability to imagine, hence my interest dwindles and I no longer find as much pleasure in the process. But the results from this little cerebral experiment - my failed excursion into realms too high for a bog-standard intellect - the results will remain, for what they're worth, on this site (and nowhere else: neither printed nor otherwise saved). I therefore conclude that it's time to accept defeat and call it a day...



- Memoir under construction: HERE>>.-