Whoosh, where did the first three months of 2025 go and why didn’t someone stop the swinging pendulum? Never mind, it’s spring again, I’ll bring again AI from Automation Nation. It’s here. There. Every bleeding where. And it’s real. Reel? Yes, people, I’m talking about that ubiquitous, oxymoronic cyborg, Artificial Intelligence. Love it, hate it, or be indifferent to its presence, the world’s zombified by AI and its endless list of pros and cons.
The subheading of my blog is a salute to Zager & Evans’s hit of the late sixties, which records humanity’s journey over 10,000 years and predicts the negative impact caused by technological advances on human thoughts, relationships, and body. With the effluxion of said 10K years, the song laments how humans’ reign is done, and extinction rules OK. Exordium and terminus = beginning and end.
Of course, In the Year 2525 is only a song, but visionary nonetheless, and somewhat menacing if one analyses the lyrics. The year 2525 is 500 years away, but already AI’s weaving its destructive web around the globe. I’ve neither the time nor the inclination to blether on about its effects—beneficial or detrimental—but cannot and will not leave this reasonable rant without a checked tirade on billion-dollar big tech stealing copyrighted work for AI training. Be it works of fiction/non-fiction, poetry, lyrics, music, art, or any creation taking their fancy, tech giants are moulding and mastering the AI machine, heedless to the “minions” they steamroll. For an insight into the enormity of this scurrilous practice, see articles from The Society of Authors, The Guardian, and The Bookseller. Read them and weep. Shame on big tech, and shame on us little people if we let it employ shyster tactics without kicking up a stink.
Not in my day, nor yours will androids rule, but certain humans are determined to escalate the AI merry-go-round. Will anything stop the robot rot?
Make of AI what you will, but I say enough of algorithms, atrocities, and automatons. Spring is here and with it, Wenark’s first quarterly, seasonal blog. Funny how foibles, fancies, and chaotic corruption dissipate when rambling in the splendour of Mother Nature’s wonder. For a while, me and Ark forget the vagaries of corruption, greed, and megalomania to live in the moment, soaking up spring’s sumptuous blessings. Instead of constant scrolling or seeing life on a screen, it’s time the world embraced Carpe Diem. For mental health and wellbeing, seizing the day’s crucial, and for us, nature bathing’s high priority.
Spring 2025 sees the long-awaited launch of our first monthly newsletter, courtesy of the questionable Mr Quince, resident ginger pub cat from The Windy & Darling Mystery Series. Mr Q’s Mewsletter, seen through the eyes of Wenark Green, is an aromatic blend of happenings, hilarity, hopes, and horrors from the veritable diverse smorgasbord called author life. Quincy’s exhilarated to put his paws to such a canny creation and terminally tickled to know human slaves ache to tell their stories on his catwork. With his permission, of course. That darn cat. Always the diva. Seems robots aren’t the only intelligence deposing humanity. Yikes!
The first Mr Q’s Mewsletter wends its way to subscribers on Tuesday, 1 April. Yet another task added to the endless list of must-dos in this mad, mad indie existence, BUT, we’re told, a banging website and associated content is necessary, nay crucial, if your desire of commercial success or readers taking you seriously as an author is to come to fruition. We wonder how much of this “advice” is authentic and how much equates to a crock of old baloney, a moneymaking racket. We’ve spent a fair stash of cash on outrageous, nefarious book marketing claims and seen little for our efforts, which brings us back to … In the Year 2525.
Anyhoo, don’t get me started on another reasonable rant. There ain’t no soapbox big enough, nor sufficient hats to do my RRs justice. With that in mind, here’s to doing what I love, despite the challenges. To copious cups of coffee, decadent glasses of fine wine, good food/lifestyle, scintillating company, and marvellous Mother Nature. To ever-faithful pen bud Ark, writing bones to my editing flesh, and, of course, the inimitable, mischievous Mr Quince for sanctioning human interaction. For now.
See you next quarter on the summer pages.
Always.
Wen x
Whoosh, where did the first three months of 2025 go and why didn’t someone stop the swinging pendulum? Never mind, it’s spring again, I’ll bring again AI from Automation Nation. It’s here. There. Every bleeding where. And it’s real. Reel? Yes, people, I’m talking about that ubiquitous, oxymoronic cyborg, Artificial Intelligence. Love it, hate it, or be indifferent to its presence, the world’s zombified by AI and its endless list of pros and cons.
The subheading of my blog is a salute to Zager & Evans’s hit of the late sixties, which records humanity’s journey over 10,000 years and predicts the negative impact caused by technological advances on human thoughts, relationships, and body. With the effluxion of said 10K years, the song laments how humans’ reign is done, and extinction rules OK. Exordium and terminus = beginning and end.
Of course, In the Year 2525 is only a song, but visionary nonetheless, and somewhat menacing if one analyses the lyrics. The year 2525 is 500 years away, but already AI’s weaving its destructive web around the globe. I’ve neither the time nor the inclination to blether on about its effects—beneficial or detrimental—but cannot and will not leave this reasonable rant without a checked tirade on billion-dollar big tech stealing copyrighted work for AI training. Be it works of fiction/non-fiction, poetry, lyrics, music, art, or any creation taking their fancy, tech giants are moulding and mastering the AI machine, heedless to the “minions” they steamroll. For an insight into the enormity of this scurrilous practice, see articles from The Society of Authors, The Guardian, and The Bookseller. Read them and weep. Shame on big tech, and shame on us little people if we let it employ shyster tactics without kicking up a stink.
Not in my day, nor yours will androids rule, but certain humans are determined to escalate the AI merry-go-round. Will anything stop the robot rot?
Make of AI what you will, but I say enough of algorithms, atrocities, and automatons. Spring is here and with it, Wenark’s first quarterly, seasonal blog. Funny how foibles, fancies, and chaotic corruption dissipate when rambling in the splendour of Mother Nature’s wonder. For a while, me and Ark forget the vagaries of corruption, greed, and megalomania to live in the moment, soaking up spring’s sumptuous blessings. Instead of constant scrolling or seeing life on a screen, it’s time the world embraced Carpe Diem. For mental health and wellbeing, seizing the day’s crucial, and for us, nature bathing’s high priority.
Spring 2025 sees the long-awaited launch of our first monthly newsletter, courtesy of the questionable Mr Quince, resident ginger pub cat from The Windy & Darling Mystery Series. Mr Q’s Mewsletter, seen through the eyes of Wenark Green, is an aromatic blend of happenings, hilarity, hopes, and horrors from the veritable diverse smorgasbord called author life. Quincy’s exhilarated to put his paws to such a canny creation and terminally tickled to know human slaves ache to tell their stories on his catwork. With his permission, of course. That darn cat. Always the diva. Seems robots aren’t the only intelligence deposing humanity. Yikes!
The first Mr Q’s Mewsletter wends its way to subscribers on Tuesday, 1 April. Yet another task added to the endless list of must-dos in this mad, mad indie existence, BUT, we’re told, a banging website and associated content is necessary, nay crucial, if your desire of commercial success or readers taking you seriously as an author is to come to fruition. We wonder how much of this “advice” is authentic and how much equates to a crock of old baloney, a moneymaking racket. We’ve spent a fair stash of cash on outrageous, nefarious book marketing claims and seen little for our efforts, which brings us back to … In the Year 2525.
Anyhoo, don’t get me started on another reasonable rant. There ain’t no soapbox big enough, nor sufficient hats to do my RRs justice. With that in mind, here’s to doing what I love, despite the challenges. To copious cups of coffee, decadent glasses of fine wine, good food/lifestyle, scintillating company, and marvellous Mother Nature. To ever-faithful pen bud Ark, writing bones to my editing flesh, and, of course, the inimitable, mischievous Mr Quince for sanctioning human interaction. For now.
See you next quarter on the summer pages.
Always.
Wen x