This means something. I’m sure of it. I just can’t put my finger on it.
In brief: I was reading this article which told the tale of a programmer hired to program a neural network for a water analysis company against his better judgment and superior alternatives, who liked the work he did despite its ungainliness, only to be enticed several years later by the same company under new management to redesign a the simpler system the original guy suggested in the first place. Having done so, they decided to repurpose the neural network for – yes, poetry. Organically generated poetry. For those not wishing to click the link, here is an example of said prose:
There’s something deep here, something meaningful, a dark secret of the universe, I’m sure of it. But what does it mean?
Well, obviously, a pig went to the fountain and stepped in ketchup. A dove flying in the sky dropped something on the pig. The pig rattled with the dove, which got angry. The pig left, and the dove ate a chicken wing with bark.
Well, yes, I can see that, but … what does it all mean? Why was the pig at the fountain? What was ketchup doing there? And where in the name of Og serves chicken wings with bark? There is a message here, and I am certain that if it can be unraveled something extraordinary will be revealed.
The pig represents the bourgeois capitalist, stepping on the worker, reveling in the fountain of his own wealth which squeezing the life’s blood from the worker as ketchup is squeezed from those little foil packets you get at McDonalds.
The dove is the voice of peace and equality, calling to the pig to wake to the pain and suffering inherent in the system. The pig fights it, denies his own pigishness until the dove poops the birdshit of clarity on the pig and the pig is enlightened. Horrified at his part in the system, he flees.
In the new reality of peace, production is increased, and we all enjoy chicken, fried with a little ground cinnamon bark, thyme and black pepper (no joke, this is what we had for dinner tonight - sautée some onions and apple slices and then add some apple juice and apple jelly to braise and serve over the chicken. Fantastic.). We enjoy the productivity and fried chicken of our labors. No shit.
Wait. That’s it? A parable about the meek inheriting the Earth by crapping on his oppressors thereby forcing them to face their own demons and then all sitting down to a little Swiss Chalet? Psh. That’s what happens when you feed that stupid computer nothing but Dr. Seuss, George Orwell, and junk mail.
