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 |   Thoughts destined to be washed away by the tides of life. |
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I've been studying my cover photo for a while now, and it seems to me that it is more than just a photo of what is there that can be seen, more than just three white rocks stacked on a beach. It contains an important question about the future, about what happens long after the photographer has gone. What will happen to our pile of stones when the tide comes in? Will it topple or has the architect built this structure at a safe distance? I don't know what will happen to these words that I stack here on the sand. They may prove safely distant, or they may be swallowed up by a rush of self-doubt. They may be here for a season. They may lose their balance and be scattered by the shoreline, or be hidden away under shifting sands. Perhaps someday, the tides of life will reclaim them. Or maybe that's just a bunch of poetic, romantic nonsense. After all, this is just a blog. |
| When I was a little girl, I wanted a toy dog for Christmas. Not just any toy dog, this dog looked like some kind of beagle, and it had a leash and when you walked, it walked (rolled?) right along behind you. It was advertised heavily during Saturday morning cartoons and was definitely meant to be included on Christmas lists. I would have put it on my Christmas list, but I didn’t know anything about those. My parents, having limited funds, were smart enough not to risk a letter to Santa filled with potential disappointment. I got a lot of nice things that year, including a wonderful baby doll, but I was disappointed that I did not get that toy dog. Worse, my little brother did get that toy dog, and well… that’s a whole can of sibling rivalry we won’t open today. I think we already had a dog, a living dog. We nearly always had a dog in the family. But there was something appealing about a little dog that would just be my own and would only do what I wanted. Over time, more realistic toy dogs evolved and by the time I was grown, there were all sorts of robot dogs who emulated the pet-owning experience without the mess of digestive end products. I think this is the rationale behind a new movie starring a robot. This is not a human actor pretending to be a robot or an actor voicing a robot that has been created with CGI or special effects. No, this is a robot who apparently has learned her lines and says them with emotional conviction (after some coaching in method acting). Her name is Erica and she is the lead character, not a sidekick. In fact, she was created specifically to star in this movie. Actors currently holed up in their mansions while their careers are on hold due to Covid-19, have to be a little worried. This is a director’s dream. He doesn’t have to find the actor who fits his image of a character, he can just order up a robot who is “born” to play the part. I don’t know how the pay scale will be adjusted for robot actors, but whether the film company buys the robot, or rents it, or whatever, I suspect that the robot will be a lot less trouble. It won't sulk in its dressing room. It won't demand a raise, or nicer furniture, or a personal assistant. The robot will probably not have an agent lobbying for special privileges. And a robot actor will not inflate the budget by commanding tens of millions of dollars per film. In any case, the price of a movie ticket ought to plunge. I am not sorry to see this happen. Although I usually warn people about the coming “rise of the machines”, I won’t mind a bit if a whole slew of these Hollywood types disappear and stop scolding me about whatever it is their tiny brains are obsessed with at the moment. Meet Erica, star of the upcoming movie b  . |
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Not quite what I meant. "Pufts" was a sidelong reference to the famous dog show, Crufts