Alien Invasion

July 14, 2026 — Pat Bertram

If you think you’re going to be reading a blog about invaders from another planet or even from another country, I’m sorry to disappoint you. Though, truly, for all I know, this discussion of alienism could be about something from outer space. Spores, perhaps.

These plants are called hen and chicks because, I presume, of the way they proliferate. The mother hen grows multiple babies, then, when she gets tired of them clinging to her skirts, she gets ready for her end by flowering. Unlike other plants, when these particular genera of hen and chicks finish flowering, the worn-out hen gives up the ghost so that her chicks can have room to grow.

Although I like the plants, especially the way they create a lovely carpet of succulents that look like fallen blossoms, I find the flowers creepy.

The central portion of the hen grows and grows and grows, sort of like the alien in Kim Bassenger’s purse in the My Stepmother is an Alien.

Very creepy.

The flowers themselves aren’t really that bad, in fact, they’re sort of pretty in an otherworldly sort of way, like something you’d see under a microscope, but the whole thing — the base, the long stalk, the bundle of flowers at the very top — is . . . well, it’s just creepy.

Most years, my hen and chicks don’t flower, and if they do, it’s only one or two. Usually, when they start to become alienish, I pull up the mother hen. I figure, since it has to be pulled up after she flowers, I might as well do it before so I don’t get creeped out.

But this year, more than a dozen mothers all got to flowering. A veritable invasion! I let them do what they wanted, even knowing my reaction, for the same reason I do so much of what I do — it gives me a blog topic. (I used to do a whole lot of things simply to have something to write about, but I don’t do that so much anymore, so what goes on in my yard has to suffice.)

This morning, I took the photos, wrote this blog, and then I went out and got rid of my alien invasion.

Whew! Disaster averted.

***

Pat Bertram is the author of Grief: The Inside Story – A Guide to Surviving the Loss of a Loved One

Posted in blogging, gardening, home, life, photography. Tags: , , , , . 4 Comments »

Halfway Through the Year

July 2, 2026 — Pat Bertram

Noon today marks the halfway point of the year. Although I noted the date and time on my calendar, it doesn’t really mean anything to me — it’s the days themselves that count since all I can control is what I do today. A year (or even half of a year) is rather an abstract, too long of a time to be able to live it as a whole. So why did I write it on my calendar? As a blog topic, of course. I’m always looking for things to write about since I’m still on my daily blogging kick. 183 days in a row as of today. That’s more than I’ve done the past few years, though it’s not out of the ordinary for me. Once I blogged daily for more than three years straight. Funny that — to do such a thing every day for so long, and then just . . . stop. Eventually, I’ll stop this streak, too, but not today.

As for the year passing — I’m more concerned with the summer. Hot. Dry. Windy at times. So not my most fun time of year! To be honest, neither is winter, but then, that’s still a ways away. And besides, as I noted above, all I can control is what I do today.

Today, I’m trying not to worry about the way this country seems to be heading. Trying not to worry about what the heat is doing to my yard. Trying not to worry about . . . well, about anything. That seems as good a half-year resolution as any, I suppose — trying not to worry. Of course, if I made it an official half-year resolution, then I’d have to worry about whether or not I’m worrying, so perhaps it’s better just to be. Take what comes.

What came today was a discovery that my “Archives: All Posts” page on this blog now only shows a few months. I’m trying to get with the WordPress people to see what happened, but so far, I’ve had only a brief, uninformative contact with something called my “AI Assistant.” It finally had enough of me and referred me to a human. So, I’m waiting for an email that might or might not come from a real person.

I doubt I need the entire blog archive — I mean, who wants to sort through 3,866 posts (3,867 after today) to find a title that catches their interest (I certainly wouldn’t!) — so I might just get rid of the “All Posts” designation and let the code do what it wants. I considered replacing the archives with a “best of” designation, but then, I’d have to go through all of those posts to see if any are worth highlighting. So, no.

What else came today was a lovely pair of daylilies! They brightened my day. I hope they brighten yours, too.

Happy halfway day!

[Update: I did get an email, and apparently, the server has to generate all the codes at once and with so many, it runs out of memory part way through. The email gave me an alternative way of posting the archives, which, if nothing else, shows me how many times I posted each of the past 225 months.]

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Pat Bertram is the author of Grief: The Inside Story – A Guide to Surviving the Loss of a Loved One

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Wealth Crying in a Vault

June 27, 2026 — Pat Bertram

“Yet the political left has long had a remarkable lack of interest in how wealth is created. As far as they are concerned, wealth exists somehow and the only interesting question is how to redistribute it.” [Thomas Sowell]

Even people who should know better think wealth falls from the sky. Or as if it’s packed away in a vault somewhere and is crying out to be evenly distributed. Whatever the mechanism, they think no one should be worth a trillion dollars, or even a billion. They simply can’t understand that wealth is not the same as cash. For example, the so-called boomer generation is supposedly sitting on the biggest fortune ever, but the median value of their wealth is about $360,000. Anyone can see at a glance that their wealth is in their house, since the median house cost in the USA is $400,000. Younger generations scream about the unfairness, and yet, for the older folk living frugally in their own home, the wealth is illusory. There is no cash, not for a lot of retirees, so what do the younger generations want? For the older folks to sell their home, and then what? Live on the street?

The average wealth of that generation is much higher, of course, because it is skewed by the small percentage of very wealthy folks, which is why using the median number is more accurate. With the median, half of people in that age group are worth more, half are worth less. Still, it’s a good example of “wealth” not equating to “cash.”

So why am I talking about this yet again? I was at lunch with a group of women yesterday when the topic of “the new trillionaire” came up. That’s what they called him. Apparently, they had no idea what his name was, how he became so wealthy, what he actually does and what he contributes to the world. Just that he’s worth a trillion dollars, and that he needs to distribute it to . . . to them, I guess.

I kept quiet, not wanting to get into any of the material I’m presenting here, but the truth is, he’s created perhaps 1,000,000 jobs, not just those people working for him directly, but the people who work in companies who supply him with his raw materials, to say nothing of the 4,400 millionaires he created, the taxes he pays, and the money he donates. He has no money, no piles of cash sitting in his vault like Scrooge McDuck. His wealth is his business. His wealth is the dreams he allows people to dream. Mars! Interstellar travel! People with severe neurological disabilities walking again! The blind seeing again!

Dreams.

What are such dreams worth?

Anyone with a normal brain in their head should be able to understand that this “trillionaire” is doing way more with his wealth — the wealth he himself created — than the government usually does with the same amount.

Besides, despite what people believe, the more money the government throws at a problem, the worse it becomes because there is more money to pay for the same amount of services. To really solve the housing crisis, you build houses people can afford and increase the supply. To solve the job problem, you create more jobs. To solve the poverty problem, you make government benefits less than what people can earn to give them an incentive to change their lives. In not one of these solutions is there a call to take money from a trillionaire. In not one of these solutions is there a call for more government intervention.

For an historical example: the great depression was gradually resolving itself, but then the government decided to help, tossed tons of money into the pot, and kept the depression going for ten years. Some people think that was the point, part of a worldwide reset, but I have no idea of the truth other than that throwing extra money at a problem exacerbates it, and among all those smart people were some who probably knew that. As with any ill, the best thing to do is to find the underlying cause and work on that, not the symptoms.

I’m sure the women I was with today are glad I didn’t get on my soapbox, though I’m just as sure you wish I’d delivered my sermon to them and not to you. Still, you have the option to not read. Just as I have the option to write.

None of this, of course, gets us any wealthier, but it does help to put things into perspective. And I get to put my research to use, so there’s that.

***

Pat Bertram is the author of Grief: The Inside Story – A Guide to Surviving the Loss of a Loved One

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Never Underestimate the Power of an Author

June 26, 2026 — Pat Bertram

I wasn’t going to do any more political posts — as I keep saying, it’s getting too dangerous. Not that I’m bringing myself to anyone’s attention, it’s just that the internet is forever, and who knows what will be the end of this push toward, not just socialism, but communism.

So what got my goat this time? The socialists/communists are saying they want a Scandinavian-type socialism rather than a Venezuelan-type, which, of course, shows their ignorance, or perhaps shows that they are relying on the ignorance of their constituents.

To be honest, I’m just as ignorant about how things work over there as anyone else, though I do know a few basics. The Nordic Model combines capitalism with an extensive government-funded social welfare system. In particular, what Sweden has is a parliamentary representative democratic constitutional monarchy, which seems to mean that the power comes from the people, with the prime minister as head of the government, the king head of parliament, and officials elected by the people to represent them. They are a capitalist state with a large taxpayer funded welfare system. Meaning that, unlike true socialism, people own their businesses, not the state.

Because of Sweden’s early free market system, by 1970, they were one of the wealthiest countries in the world. Then, in 1970, they began playing around with socialism. The government was horrifically expanded, taxes were massive, wealthy businesses left the country, zero jobs were created. By 1990, they realized their experiment was a disaster. They discovered they could have big business or big government, not both. As Kjell-Olof Feldt, Social Democratic Minister of Finance (1983–1990) said: “What we believed in as young socialists simply turned out to be impossible in practice.”

Now, their socialism is funded heavily by low and middle-income families, not just the rich. It’s still not a utopia by any means. As with all western countries, their open borders have created a high incidence of gang-related shootings, problems with local integration, and a huge drain on their welfare system.

So why do I know all this? Pippi Longstocking. Do you remember her? The storybook hero we all (especially us quiet bookish types), admired so much?

In 1970, at the beginning of the Swedish socialist experiment, Astrid Lindgren, the author of the Pippi Longstocking books, was sent a tax bill for 102% of her earnings. Yep. Socialism on steroids. (Socialists seem to like to steal from authors. One bestselling author is trying to leave a neighboring country, but he can’t leave until he forks over about 65% of his investments via an “exit tax.” Not his income, not his realized capital gains. His investments and savings. So, he can stay and spend an ever-increasing share of the tax burden, or he can leave and lose more than half of what he’d spent his life earning.)

Anyway, Astrid Lundgren fought back like an author — she wrote allegories that were very obviously a critique of the government’s tax system, but that people loved and understood. The press called her selfish. The prime minister blamed her for betraying the country. But she kept writing. And talking. She explained about the unfairness of a tax that punished the people who created wealth by stealing even more from them than they earned. People listened. In 1976, they voted out the Social Democratic Party that had ruled for over forty years.

The tax system was overhauled. Still, they didn’t dump socialism for another fifteen years.

So the moral of this story is . . . well, I’m not sure what the ultimate message is, but one is never to underestimate the power of an author beloved the world over. Another is not to listen to what the communists in the United States are saying about the “good” socialism they want, because the truth is that socialism doesn’t work, and you can’t tax the rich ad infinitum.

And of course, in my case, the main moral is not to get me riled up.

Though it did give me a blog topic, so there’s that.

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Pat Bertram is the author of Grief: The Inside Story – A Guide to Surviving the Loss of a Loved One

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Shenanigans of the Political Class

June 25, 2026 — Pat Bertram

I find it ironic that politicians who scream about citizens making (ie: creating) too much money and profess the need to confiscate that wealth through punitive taxes, never once promise to give back the millions that have stuck to their fingers during their tenures as “servants” of the people. The mega-millionaires in Congress seem to be the loudest of the “eat the rich” contingent yet don’t see themselves as one of the problems. Apparently, their money is theirs. And so is everyone else’s money.

Too many people agree because they don’t understand that created wealth — wealth that is invested in business and creating thousands of jobs — is not the same as money in the bank. They complain that the wealthy don’t pay their fair share of taxes, and yet if everyone were taxed at the same rate, those same people would be complaining about their tax bill. The richest pay around 35% of their income in federal taxes. The middle group pays about 15%. The workers at the lowest end either pay minimal taxes, or they don’t pay into the system at all but are instead given money via Earned Income Tax Credits. (There is a wide range in each of these categories, but these are the averages I found.)

An even bigger irony comes from those communist mayors (calling them democratic socialists doesn’t change the nature of their rhetoric) who have never held a job in their life, led affluent lives because of family wealth, and yet now pretend to be bringing about a better life for working people while a) making things worse, and b) somehow getting richer.

I’ve never understood why working-class people listen to such hypocrites, except perhaps that they think that when the billionaires are taxed to death, then some of the money will be parceled out to them. I certainly don’t understand this push toward turning the United States into a communist country; it’s the surest way for everyone to go broke. Except for those at the top, of course.

A current scheme is a wealth tax, which never worked in the countries that tried it, but apparently, people still think it’s a good idea. But the trouble is, if they tax unrealized capital gains, then the owners of the company will have to sell off part of the company, which means people losing their jobs, which means fewer taxes overall. Also, all sorts of retirement funds that are invested in those companies lose money, because the sell-off will lower the value of the stock, which means the vulnerable also lose out. And of course, the politicians won’t bother giving a rebate for the loss of the rich person’s wealth when the stocks go down. And yet, when the stocks go back up again, they will again tax those unrealized gains, which means double tax on the same money. So bizarre!

I guess the moral of the story is that one doesn’t need to know economics to be in congress — or a mayor — though it should be a requirement. But then, it’s never about the truth, just the perceived truth. At least as long as it gets them reelected.

Which brings me to the biggest irony of all — that I, who have always had a head-down approach to the shenanigans of the political class, am not only aware of such doings but am blogging about it.

I might have to do something about that — not the shenanigans, which I have no control over, but the writing.

 

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Pat Bertram is the author of Grief: The Inside Story – A Guide to Surviving the Loss of a Loved One

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Talking to My Twenty-year-old Self

June 17, 2026 — Pat Bertram
Daily writing prompt
What is something you wish you could tell your 20-year-old self?
View all responses

Hypothetical questions like this make me think — not about the question I’m supposed to blog about, but the mechanics of it.

Truly, assuming there was something I wished I could tell my twenty-year old self, how would that work?

At first, I thought of leaving a message somewhere for me to find when I reached this age, but then I realized that’s the reverse of the question. Besides, there’s nothing my twenty-year old self could say to me today that would make any difference. If there was something that was important enough for that younger version of me to want forwarded into the future, it’s already been done. First, there is a little thing called a memory. Second, even if I don’t recall the important thing itself, it would be written in my very life — everything that ever happened to me stemmed from the thoughts of that year (and every year) so any message would be redundant.

As for the logistics of getting a message back to that younger self — reverse email? But email hadn’t been invented back then. That twenty-year old self would have to wait several more decades to receive the message, and by then, she’d be almost as old as I am now. If not that, then what? Time travel? Okay, so assume I went back in time, how would I ever convince that person I was her? I’m sure she’d think I was a relation, perhaps a great-aunt or some such because I did at one time bear a distinct resemblance to my mother.

I remember when I was young not ever actually thinking that old people were forever old, but I somehow presumed it. I knew people grew older, but it just seemed to me, in that accepting way of youth, that they were old, and had always been, just as I was young, and would always be. It makes sense, I suppose — when you’re young, you can see the changes in yourself as you graduate to a new grade every year, but the older folks always looked the same. I don’t know when it struck me that old folks had once been young, that they’d lived a whole life before getting old, but I’m pretty sure it didn’t happen until later in my twenties or even in my thirties. (I knew people aged, of course, but old age seemed so alien to my young self that I never made the connection.)

So there my young self would be, seeing this old woman, and no way would my twenty-year old self ever believe that I was this old. Oddly, I doubt that my current self would even recognize that young self. Odder still, now that I’m old, I feel as if I’ve always been old, as if I’d never been young. I mean, I know I was, but . . . who can remember that far back? Or care? It is easier just to accept what I am today and go with that feeling rather than give credence to a past.

Which means, I suppose, that even if I could go back and tell my twenty-year old self something, there’s nothing I would wish to tell her.

As for the photo accompanying this article, I realize it’s not my twenty-year old self, but nowadays, one young age is as remote as the other.

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Pat Bertram is the author of Grief: The Inside Story – A Guide to Surviving the Loss of a Loved One

Posted in blogging, culture, history/myth, internet, life, writing. Tags: , , , , . 6 Comments »

Dotting Eyes

June 12, 2026 — Pat Bertram

So, artificial intelligence is supposed to run the world in the future? Good luck with that!

This comment wasn’t planned, but it just hit me as I am writing — if AI, or at least Generative AI (or as I once accidentally called it: degenerative AI) learns from people, and half the population is, by definition of average intelligence or below, then how will it ever get smarter than humans? And oh, yes, while I’m on this topic, people say that you can tell what AI has written by the M-dashes. Those are the long dashes I use in my articles all the time — eight in this piece alone, by last count — and I guarantee nothing I write is touched by anything artificial. Well, the computer — my fingers do touch that — but as for help with writing? No. Absolutely not. The point of writing is . . . well, to write. Having a voice in a machine do my writing for me would completely defeat the purpose of connecting with my own inner voice and ultimately with other human voices — not vocal voices since obviously I can’t hear people who read my work, but voice as in a person’s unique way of phrasing, unique tone, unique point of view.

But “voice” brings me back to what I came here to say.

I was listening to a clip yesterday from one of the black conservatives I occasionally pay attention to. I started doing so in order to find out what they think about being used to shore up the left’s anti-voter ID stance, and they don’t like it. They know it’s not Jim Crow-2, since their parents went through the real thing and so they know the truth of it. And they don’t like being patronized as if they were too stupid to figure out how to get an ID or how to prove their citizenship. (To be honest, I think the people I listen to are more educated, more coherent, and richer than those treating them as if they needed their hands held.)

Anyway, somewhere along the line during this two-minute clip, I lost track of what the speaker was saying because I was stunned into immobility. I simply couldn’t believe how AI translated his speech to text. He used the phrase “dot your Is and cross your Ts,” and what appeared on the screen was “Dot your eyes and cross your teeth.”

Um. Yeah. It might be artificial but it sure isn’t intelligent!

“Dotting eyes” wouldn’t necessarily be an erroneous transcription if he were talking about art, since that tiny dot in the eye of a painted face is what makes the depicted creature — animal or human — seem alive. And some people are born with teeth that come in crooked, so I suppose in some cases, it’s possible for teeth to be crossed, though I can’t really picture it. (No surprise since I am not able to visualize anything — all I ever see when I close my eyes and mentally try to call up an image is . . . black.)

But still — dotting eyes and crossing teeth? I sure hope the AI systems that run weaponry are a lot smarter than that or we are all doomed.

***

Pat Bertram is the author of Grief: The Inside Story – A Guide to Surviving the Loss of a Loved One

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My June 10 History

June 10, 2026 — Pat Bertram

I keep getting notices here on this blog about articles I posted on that same day during the previous ten years. I was going to opt out of the notifications, but somehow I never have. (Though I’m sure if those notices included my grief years, I would have opted out immediately.) It’s interesting to see where I was and what I was thinking previously on this date, and interesting, too, to see how much I’ve forgotten. Apparently, once I’ve posted something, it was out of my mind, which, come to think of it, was the point. I never purposely went back and read what I wrote, which considering how long I’ve been doing this blog, could take months, but now I peek at what shows up in my notifications.

Six years ago on June 10, I lamented my lack of a garden. What I mostly had back then was dirt, dead weeds, some newly planted lilac bushes, and a few flowering plants that were here before me. Like the trumpet vine. In previous places I lived, I tried to grow trumpet vines, hoping for a bit of color, but they never managed to thrive. But here, they do. In fact, I have a hard time keeping them in check — I find starter plants all over the place. I dig them up and plant them where they would better serve me, and though slow to grow, most are still alive.

The old vines are blooming cheerily right now, which adds even more color to the garden I never thought I’d have. I remember back then telling a neighbor that in ten years I should have a beautiful yard, and I was partly right. I do have a beautiful yard, but it only took six years to get to this point.

It’s funny, too, that in that six-year-old post I mentioned how bad the winds were, and oh, we’ve been having terrible winds! I wonder what it is about this day and winds? Well, it is southeastern Colorado, which means we almost always have winds.

In 2022, on this day, I wrote about waking up every morning amazed that I am living in such a house on a beautiful mini estate. How very strange it is that I stood outside my house just today, thinking that very same thing — how amazed I am (and so very grateful) to be living here. Perhaps, like the winds, that isn’t a coincidence since I often feel gratitude for this turn my life took, but today it truly did strike me anew how very blessed I am.

Last year, on this day, I wrote about feeling detached from the garden that five years previously I’d wished for. I just didn’t care. (I didn’t need that blog to remind me. I remember how I felt) Oh, I did the necessary work last year, but beyond that, I didn’t take many photos, seldom blogged, and just felt as if it weren’t worth the effort because the intense sun just burned everything.

Whatever struggles I had last year — both with my attitude and the garden itself — didn’t destroy anything permanently. The garden is going well this year, I’m actually enjoying doing the work, and yes, I am still appreciating my cheery trumpet vines.

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Pat Bertram is the author of Grief: The Inside Story – A Guide to Surviving the Loss of a Loved One

Posted in being me, blogging, gardening, home, life. Tags: , , , , , , , , , . 3 Comments »

Loyal Subscribers

June 8, 2026 — Pat Bertram
Daily writing prompt
How do you build loyal subscribers?
View all responses

I find it interesting that most of these blog prompts have nothing to do with me, such as today’s prompt about building loyal subscribers. I have no idea how to build loyalty, have no idea if anyone has even subscribed to my blog. I do know a few friends get my blog by email, which isn’t really fair — they get to keep up with me on a daily basis, and I don’t know what’s going on with them. You’d think they’d be kind enough to reciprocate with their own blog, wouldn’t you? (I’m being facetious. If I want to know what’s going on with them, I could simply call, and I don’t, so who’s the one who isn’t being fair?)

Actually, according to WordPress, I do have some subscribers, and a few more have subscribed in the past few days, so thank you for subscribing!

As for building loyalty — apparently, somewhere along the line I have done so since I see many of the same names in comments and “likes,” but as I’ve mentioned before, I have no idea why anyone reads what I write, though I do appreciate everyone who does. It makes blogging seem so much less like throwing a tiny penlight out into the great darkness of the unknown and more like connecting with friends.

There are some people who have been with me almost from the beginning — starting from the time I wrote about writing, then tumbling into the whole morass of grief with me, and still showing up now that my posts range from stream of consciousness to gardening. Truly, hands across the nations! (Did I mention how grateful I am for you? Well, it bears repeating.)

I might not know how to purposely build a following, but I know how not to build subscribers by the millions — don’t be controversial. Almost all people who garner those sorts of numbers and that sort of loyalty do so by talking about things that gets people emotional, and I don’t want to do that. I know how a lot of my readers think, and I’d just as soon not get into discussions that either get my ire up or theirs. (And I don’t like to have to think of tactful ways of saying I disagree, so I don’t.)

Another way not to build loyal subscribers is to not show a bias because bias automatically gives people a connection to you. It’s almost impossible not to show a bias, and I’m sure mine shows occasionally, though my bias tends to be for irony and intelligence and truth-seeking rather than for any movement or ideology. And I have a definite bias against hypocrisy, emotion that passes as fact, and regimentation of thought. I spent most of my life around people who loved to force people to think their way, so I became adept at changing midstream partly to keep the peace and partly because I didn’t care enough either way to argue the point.

But then, can anyone tell if they are really bias-free? I’m not sure. It seems ingrained so that a biased person acts as if their bias is the truth rather than simply their way of seeing the truth. Case in point: one popular quasi news show has been bleeding viewers because a lot of people don’t like its far-left liberal slant, and all the journalists on the show profess to have no idea there is a slant — they thought they were being impartial.

Seems like a good idea for me to keep keeping away from controversial topics — that way I can keep my bias to myself. And I can keep the readers I have rather than trying to grow a larger subscriber’s list, which I don’t know how to do anyway.

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Pat Bertram is the author of Grief: The Inside Story – A Guide to Surviving the Loss of a Loved One

Posted in blogging, internet, photography, writing. Tags: , , , , , . 7 Comments »

Recommended Tags

June 5, 2026 — Pat Bertram

In yesterday’s blog post, I wrote about gardening being A Strange Avocation, and I explained the difference in the behavior of flowers between this year and previous years. The tags I used for the post are gardening, home, life, bees and flowers, bees in a garden, larkspur, lily trees, purple echinacea, purple echinacea turned pink, yarrow. All garden related and directly related to the article I posted.

WordPress, the platform that hosts this blog, has an AI tool that suggests various tags for posts. In case you don’t know, tags are words or phrases that bloggers use to help people find their articles. For example, broad tags such as “gardening,” don’t do much to drive people to a blog post since they are too general. If someone were to Google “gardening,” they’d get millions upon millions of hits, and the chance of their finding any particular article are close to nil. Specific tags are best, or so they say, because the chances of someone stumbling upon your immortal words are a lot better. (I was being facetious about the “immortal words,” making fun of the fact that so few of our blog posts say anything of importance, and yet, in the electronic age, everyone’s words, no matter how puerile, truly are immortal.)

You will never in a million years guess the words that the all-seeing, all-knowing AI suggested for that gardening post, so I’ll just list them for you: “Auto immune disease, breastfeeding, ulcerative colitis, Crohn’s, IBD.” How is that even possible? I’ve gone over and over what I wrote yesterday, and I cannot see anything that could possibly have generated such a wildly inappropriate group of words.

I know artificial intelligence is supposed to be a great thing, and it might be for other people, but I’m not that impressed. From what I have seen, generative AI in particular is not any more intelligent than most humans seem to be. (I slipped and called it degenerative AI before I corrected myself, but I like that term!) It also has huge biases, especially political ones, which makes sense, I suppose, since the vast majority of news sources and sites like Wikipedia are liberal, and generative AI is only as smart as its input. It would be nice to be able to use Google’s AI generated summaries for a quick perusal of any given topic, but I can’t rely on its answers because it makes mistakes that I know are mistakes. It doesn’t always understand the question, either. I wanted to check out “immortal words” to make sure I wasn’t making up the phrase, and all the AI would tell me is what immortal meant. I also wanted a quick definition for “tags,” and what I got was a whole lot of information about where to buy paper tags with strings. (I’ve noticed more often that search engines seem to be geared to products first, so if I want to know the definition of something, and it happens to be the name of a musical group or a brand name or whatever, that is what shows up, not the more generic term that I was looking for.)

I suppose, in Pollyanna-style, I should be glad that I didn’t need the suggested tags. Glad I don’t know enough about those medical issues from a personal angle to write about them. But still . . . utterly bizarre.

Actually, I’m not one to talk about intelligence, artificial or otherwise. Earlier, I was doing a puzzle, and I needed an eight-letter word beginning with L for a flower. And all I could think of was lavender. Lavender? Really? When I’d spent hours in the morning clearing away larkspur? When I’ve written post after post mentioning larkspur?

Oh, well, such is life. My life, anyway.

PS: The recommended tags for this post are Project Life, Heidi Swapp, San Diego Comic Con, Becky Higgins, Studio Calico. I don’t even know what most of that is!

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Pat Bertram is the author of Grief: The Inside Story – A Guide to Surviving the Loss of a Loved One

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