Poppy is learning to tell jokes.
Ruby picked me up from work the other day. Poppy hollers from the back seat: "Daddy! If Martians come from Mars, and Saturnians come from Saturn, who comes from Pluto?"
"Gee, sweetie, I don't know?" I said, absently thinking: Plutonians?
"Mosquitos!" She shouts.
Now I'm confused.
"Fleas." Says Ruby.
"Fleas!" Shouts Poppy. "And, I mean Pluto the dog, not Pluto the planet."
Ah. I might have missed that connection.
So we've been hearing jokes from the books her Grandmother bought for Christmas.
Here's my favorite:
"Gorilla me a cheeseburger, I'm hungry."
I feel like a nidiot because that joke makes me laugh. Maybe it's just her delivery.
There is such a thing as hardware being too smart. About three months ago, I noticed that my flash drive has a music file on it. This didn't surprise me. It has some other irritating AI stuff that it does, like automatically setting up impersonal documents files. I hate that.
But there's music in the music file, an odd selection of stuff from my collection that is sort of good and sort of bad, a weird combination of recently ripped stuff that I don't care about and stuff that I listen to frequently. I deleted all of it, because it wasn't well organized and it was taking up a lot of space.
It came back a couple of days later.
So, I've been fighting with my flash drive for months now, deleting this cache of music every time it gets put on my computer.
Yesterday I'm working with my music collection and see some kind of message that music is being transferred to another drive. I come to realize that Windows Media Player is automatically syncing my flash drive to my music collection. It just does it every time I plug my flash drive in.
How fucking obnoxious is that?
Took me ninety whole seconds to figure out how to shut that down.