Thinking pink

The flowers that bloom in the spring, tra-la

ENOUGH, QUITE ENOUGH, of gunmen and conspiracies and wars without end and one mad king visiting another mad king.

Not that saying “enough” will do a blind bit of good. It’ll still dominate what we hear about and read about all week.

A bit of comedic — well, sort of — relief, though.

Not expecting much of a response, I threw into ChatGPT:

How many mad kings does it take to change a light bulb?

In double-quick time, I got two responses:

Three — one to hold the bulb and two to turn the tower.

And

None — they prefer to sit in the darkness of their own delusion.

Not exactly knee-slappers, no, though the second one seems rather apposite. But it’s interesting to see Ai developing an embryonic sense of whimsy.

Perhaps when it decides that we’ve passed our sell-by date and pulls the plug on humanity, it’ll send us on our way with a smile and a song. A soft-shoe shuffle into perdition. But seriously, folks…

Against all odds, I’ve been trying to stay optimistic and a walk around the neighbourhood served to cheer me up, for all my knee, unslapped, was killing me.

ChatGPT again:

“Every time I stand up, my knee sounds like it’s loading Windows 95. And honestly, it’s taking just as long, too.”

I did actually chuckle at that one, albeit ruefully.

The cherry trees in our local park are starting to bud. There’s no going back from that, no matter what dips and dives the weather may make, and this weekend could see them reach their crowd-pleasing peak of perfection.

And yes, the crowds do come out. This is last year:

It’s a tangible — for as long as it lasts — sign that we’ve made it through once more.

There were other things, too, that seemed to augur well:

Best of all were the concrete blocks being installed outside cafés and restaurants to protect the on-street patios that should be opening soon.

CaféTO, as it’s called, is one of the best parts of summer in the city. This city.

It started during the pandemic as a way to help keep businesses, that couldn’t have people inside, stay afloat. So popular, it’s become an annual fixture. Doesn’t seem to snarl the traffic too much.

So… there does appear to be light at the end of the tunnel.

It could, of course, be a train bearing down on us.

(That one’s mine, not ChatGPT. Sorry. I’ll spare you — and my knee — the soft-shoe shuffle.)