Nebraska: a rant.
Nebraska? Who the fuck has a concept of the size of Nebraska? I haven't thought about Nebraska in years. I might not have ever thought about Nebraska. I'm not even positive Nebraska is a state and not just one of the capital cities in some podunk flyover shithole nobody has ever given a fuck about. ThE sIzE oF nEbRaSka I mean seriously, come the fuck on with this shit.
I wrote a whole thing in retort to this and then I copied and pasted the wrong thing and I lost all of it.
I am genuinely saddened to learn this, this has been a rollicking good time. We've been doing voices. Full disclosure, they're very funny. Darn this is a loss. That other comment you deleted barely had anything fun in it at all, too. Damn shame.
... Though, I suppose it does track that you still want credit for all the effort you put in but that resulted in no product.
Bottom line, you don't know what a straw man is. You're still using it incorrectly.
You've repeatedly used a logical fallacy, misinterpreted what that fallacy actually is, and then tried to use your misunderstanding of it against me. The irony is that this is extremely common.
~~Tried to use it against you? "Tried"?? Buddy I am the goddamn Harlem Globetrotters of dunking on your ass over this. I've succeeded at using this against you so hard I'm writing a book called "How I used it against them: The Strawman Story"~~
Sigh. Okay, I'll be polite. Sorry, long day.
Look, insisting I don't know what I'm talking about is a losing strategy. I know I know what I'm talking about, because I talk about stuff a lot and my momma says I'm real good at it, and my momma ain't no liar. And I'm well aware of the meanings behind the terms I've been using. Yes, what you did initially is absolutely a straw man - I'm going to just borrow the damn formula from wikipedia and fill in the blanks mad-libs style:
Person 1 (Us) asserts proposition X (AI is garbage at producing art because it removes the skill which gives character to the work and limits creativity in ways that stiffle originality and railroads your vision)
Person 2 (You) argues against a superficially similar proposition Y (AI is bad at art because all an AI artist does is type in a single sentence and Pflrrt! out farts a movie), as though an argument against Y (bad bcz one sentence) were an argument against X (bad bcz no character).
You're doing a goddamned triple-axel backflipping strawman. Taylor Swift is singing a ballad about that time she broke up with a guy because he was a man filled with straw and he cheated on her with you. The entire inter-collegiate "Its A Strawman" marching band strikes up their classic all-tuba rendition of "enter the gladiators". It smells of hot buttered popcorn, freshly mown grass and the lingering scent of the straw bale you're sitting on. You look at your sweetheart and feel the moment is perfect. Carefully you reach up and brush their straw-blond hair out of their face. The music swells and, as you lean in for that first momentus kiss, fireworks erupt in the night sky, blooming ephemeral flowers the size of a neighborhood, each one hurling shimmering petals of flame down towards you, their flight coloring the scene the gentle golden-yellow of a summer strawman.
(It's a callback to when I implied you banged a strawman earlier. Subtle, I know. God damn I'm funny.)
I don't need to provide you with any proof because you're not going to accept it anyway.
"Golly gee batman, that's really convenient how they said could provide proof then said they didn't have to! Man. You know, it's so convenient it's almost like..."
"Great scott Boy Wonder, you're right! The piddler never had any proof all along! It was all a bluff! Quickly, to the Flatmobile!"
-muffled sounds of gorilla violence-
Anyways. Honestly, I'm still waiting on that example of a strawman I was using in an argument. Genuinely. I'm pretty sure I didn't use one, but I might have skirted too close dickarus-style at one point with an appeal to absurdity. I think I dodged it by being explicit about what I was doing, but I'm curious to hear your opinion there.
Also those Objective Categories of Quality, really want to hear more about those. That'll be fun.
LADIES AND GENTLEMEN AND EVERYTHING ELSE BETWIXT, BETWEEN, BELOW AND BELOVED, BACK FOR A REPEAT ENCORE PERFORMANCE AND HERE TO ANSWER THE QUESTION "WHAT IS THE SOUND OF ONE HAND CLAPPING BACK", THE ONE, THE ONLY:
MECHOMAAAAAAAAAAAN!!!!
-muffled sounds of gorilla cheering-
"My word, what an incredibly vast size - and you say they fight dragons there? And the streets are paved with DDR5?? Oh it sounds a loverly place, this 'Nee-bra-skah'! How are more people not talking of these wonders???" Seriously, how did you think this was going to go - I open this up, see you know Exactly How Big Nebraska Is and just faint dead at the realization I'll never defeat you and your monstrously huge stack of 3rd grade US geography flash cards? For fucks... you're already trying to throw 'Confirmation Bias' out there like a rhetorical pokemon, and now you're following that up with the devastating one-two combination punch of "Fascinating Nebraska Facts"??? Oh be still my cold-feeling legs, Mecho's really got us THIS TIME!
You might genuinely be the first person who's ever cared enough about nebraska to look up how big it is - hell even nebraska doesn't care about nebraska. But here's some more nebraska facts you can use:
Step it up dude, this is laaaaaaaaame.
Hmm. You know, performatively signaling your disinterest by implying my comment is so beneath you that you didn't even read it was lame and transparent when all those other people did that to your first comment, and it's lame and transparent here too. Nobody ever even means it - they'll claim they did, but humans are just too curious to resist the tantalizing prospect of finding out what's in the box!
But that said, the second half here:
No you're dead on with this, it really isn't worth worrying your pretty little head by trying to grasp the subtle nuances of my (checks notes) ... elaborate dick jokes. Honestly, I had to stop writing to your level a while ago because I ate all my crayons. All that excess verbiage and imagery you want me to believe you didn't read? All that purple prose? Overworking it to where there's far more gilding than lily? That's to amuse myself (well, and the audience). I've gotta do something to keep myself from getting bored here since you're clearly not up to the task. I mean, god, you're trying to dunk on me with Nebraska facts. Nebraska. Facts. Son you don't just "not have game", your game has been stolen and you're halfway through filing a police report about the group of raccoons that just beat you up and ran off with your limited edition Big Bang Theory™ Monopoly set.
Nebraska.
Facts.
C'mon son.
Anyways, because I know you don't like too much writing, here's a selection of quick little rapid-fire responses for you:
^-mechoman444^
Lmfao one sentence. One sentence. You couldn't keep up the act until the next paragraph even. For nebraska's sake man, what are you doing?
Um...
-muffled sounds of gorilla dunking-
Uh....
lmfao - we now go live to literally the second sentence I said to you:
Look, there's only two realistic options here. The first one is that you're genuinely too dumb to be able to understand the wikipedia definition of straw man (just in case, here's the simple english version) - and I think we can both agree that I'm right and you're clearly not so painfully, stratospherically dumb as for that to be the case.
So that leaves us only with the second option (which is, lets be honest, pretty transparently the correct one):
You've long since realized I do know exactly what I'm talking about, but since defending your argument is out of reach, you've shifted focus to trying to "win" (by the internet's terms, "not show any weakness or admit any fault, and have the other person give up first") the interaction. So now you're repeating "Oh lel, U're so wrong you don't even know how wrong you are! I can't behlieave ur sthil so wr0ngz0rs abt Strawmen kek, topkek" like an incantation. You know that when I do it to you it produces a strong emotional reaction, evoking impotent rage and a desperate need to avoid having to admit to yourself that you've been outclassed, and you're assuming that when you do it back, it'll have the same effect.
But like... you're just not any good at this?
You act like you're bringing heat to the kitchen, but you seem blissfully unaware that this is a blast furnace, and you didn't remember put on your asbestos underpants today. You can stand there with a skillet and talk about cooking the perfect crispy Narwhal Bacon, but everyone else can clearly see the skillet is melting, the bacon is charcoal and your pants have just caught on fire.
Look just... for a moment, I'll stop pretending we're not on the same page here.
The simple fact is that I'm so far out of your league we're not even playing the same sport. Your goal here is to performatively demonstrate how unaffected by what you think are attempts to compete with you - to show no weakness, know no fear, stand as his bulwark against the darkness, yadda yadda. You think that this must be frustrating me, and that by causing me frustration you can claim a victory. But dude, I don't just don't think about it like that! This isn't about 'winning' for me - no, I get excited when people reply like this. I get my partner to read these replies because they also think this is fun. My trophy shelf is about to collapse under the weight of all the participation trophies alone, and I just don't see a need to add anything else to that precipitously teetering mountain of victories.
This isn't a competition.
This isn't some debate where I gnash my teeth while figuring out my next move in our grand dialectic chess match.
This is what I do to relax when a question at work is just too tedious-but-challenging and I need a break to do something fun. This is what I do in bed at night with my partner, reading out your comments to each other in silly voices before we go to sleep.
You're strutting around, acting like you're some noble champion locked in a tremendously one-sided battle of wits with a plebeian challenger, blinded by ego to your undeniable might, when you're somehow blissfully unaware that bitch, you're my candy-crush.