I’d call it the Slop Bucket

Anti-trust is not about seeking perfection, it’s a defense against abuses of power. That’s a good thing unless you like to be abused by the powerful, in which case lick some more boots.

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Feels like an ad

The version of Neuralink we can afford will be ad supported.

No, jokes. It’s plural because there are many jokes on you.

Greek Salad is mostly fruit.

I remember telling my high school guidance counsellor I was planning on becoming a programmer. She looked at me, head tilted like a confused dog and asked what excited me about Event Programming (as in, planning and scheduling large in-person events).

That was the first time someone didn’t understand what I did for work, and it was about 5 years before I started doing it.

I assume you’ll be using Dragon Medical One. Nuance is a well established organization, with users in a broad range of professions, and their medical product is extensively used by many specialists. The health system where I live has been in the process of phasing out transcriptionists in favor of it for a decade or so.

The only potential privacy concerns a hospital would care about would be if they are storing your transcripts on their servers, because that will contain sensitive information about patients. It will be impossible to get any administrator to care about your voice data.

This tide is unlikely one you will be able to stem, but you could stop dictating and type it yourself.

Yes, often.

We as thinking beings consider ourselves to be constant. The trail of memories leading from our childhoods to today make it feel as though we are still that person who lived through all of those times, but we aren’t. We can’t be.

I have memories belonging to an 8 year old boy in my mind, he had the same name I did and lived with parents who also had the same name as mine, but I am a much older person - older than his parents, even - and I share almost no common ground with this boy. How can we be the same person, when we are so obviously different?

I am physically a different person to this person of my memories, and I can’t be sure he exists or existed. He may simply be a figment of my imagination, a story I tell myself of where I have come from but made up from whole cloth.