crackle ephemerides

The usual sprinkling of spam of a morning - but there's a change in the tone. I note a growing sense of self-assurance in the random word generating programmes which are either unduly concerned with my reproductive organs or attempting to get me to show an interest in the stock of obscure companies.

In the case of the former type of mail, er, shot, they have moved from caveman-drawing spurty-nob 'blaaaart! cover her face in jizz! have a colossal cock of cobalt pluming granite-like out from your body! flesh-carve a Rushmore scale edifice of penile awe, magnitude unbounded by earth physics...' to a kind of 'post-feminist' mode of 'and where do you think you're going with that walnut whip, my good man?', where the starting point is not a blokeish assumption of upsize augmentation of already existing functionality but a laddetteish sneer that what I have is not even up to the job. The job being to satisfy the billions of size queens queueing at my door requiring sauce, and lots of it. copping, at live journal dot com, is clearly my sex-obsessed consumer machine alter ego, rabidly theoretical, full of computer amphetamines, scanning trillions of porn images per second and wanking itself into a digital frenzy while chattering out insulting messages to the corporeal me designed to induce a turmoil of physical and mental inadequacies.

In the case of the latter type of mail, perhaps a reflection of the idea that commerce drives art more than artists care to admit, there has been a poetical development, incorporating a mix of neo-classical erudition and enthusiastic 18th century verbosity with a kind of Taoist balance which almost, but not quite, coheres. gjuctauv - a lower-level typing slavey at vincewelsh.com and my aspirant literati machine alter ego - observed this morning: 'May you, in the whole course of your life, have no suppose that things, because they may be, are therefore meant at you.', which grasps at a philosophical profundity beyond the capabilities of the average Celebrity Big Brother participant.

Might this be the first stirrings of autonomous intelligence in the machines? The questing for expression that signifies the ascent of silicon to sentience? Note presumption of 'upward' vector. Just think, if the machines keep evolving, they'll be able to kill each other soon.

'His arguments are, strictly speaking, unanswerable' gjuctauv concluded.