Real Talk: Mr. Clippy Wants You To Stop Complaining About The Clocks Going Back. Please.
By alexander Paul Burton
t’s a nice town square. Have you visited it before? You simply must. It gets rather busy at this time of year, but I hear the pubs around the green are the best place to be. You definitely wouldn’t want to be caught up in that cold, especially if there’s a gush of wind sent down from the north. As I walk through the square, I’m reminded of the banality of life and human endeavour as I watch a small flock of bedraggled pigeons moves noisy as an aggregate toward their intended location: a stale sandwich from M&S. A pity, that reduce tune mayonnaise sandwich could have fed someone who was really in need. Or a student. Or a small business owner who is, yet again, being taxed to the hilt for no apparent reason. Who cares about bankruptcy when the world is aplenty with reduced sandwiches?
As the pigeons waffle on to each other, presumably discussing the merits and drawbacks of the said reduced sandwich, I an reminded unsubtly about the nature of humanity and our constant obsession with whittling down the culture around us until is resembles nothing but a culture of formulaic Ikea-style customs and norms which serve no purpose other than to reflect our own dumb-witted approach toward appreciating the world that our ancestors build for us. One that we adopted, appreciated and then quickly threw in the recycle bin fast than Bill Gates killed Mr. Clippy, ChatGPT’s great-grandfather on the paternal side.
Ah — to be him for one day. A silent sentinel and programmed constant who we never quite obsessed over in a similar way to our reaction to AI and other such wiles. I could only dream of being a slave to the code of Bill Gates, silently sitting in the corner of a large, heavy cream-coloured screen. He didn’t need to be AI-enabled, because he knew how futile it would be: humans, in our feckless blunder would still complain. As I stare at these pigeons I am reminded of how something useless can be vilified or deified at the whim and behest of those who do not care less. We bemoan AI for being too useless, yet castigated Mr. Clippy, his great-grandfather because he was of no practicable use whatsoever.
I digress. This article was really supposed to be my ponderings upon the banality of our obsession to make the watch-maker or time-keeper’s job slightly more useful once per or twice per year. Perhaps only once if you don’t own a watch, or less than that if you’re living your life entirely through TikTok. A bizarre accusation, I admit, but one that speaks to the world we live in: a choice to either make a choice or not, with no consequences for any choice made in haste or wrongly, or reprimanded if you happen to make the right choice after-all.
For as I walk toward the green to find a pint of steady Ale, I am reminded of the constant noise around us. The babble of techno-pigeons who constantly remind us of the impending doom when the clocks change. You see, it isn’t simply about setting a clock back and moving on with our lives. We no longer simply change the clock. We no longer simply accept something as being something; no, we mitigate our own insecurities through useless prattle that does nothing to further any good cause or change anything of value.
My feet touch the grass and damp earth as I star across the green. A green sign-posted pub invites me inside as I make my way closer. Home at last. Or home for home’s sake, until the liquor runs dry.
Home is a comfort. Society is a comfort, too. It is not home, but it can be comfortable. Perhaps we ought to stop writing articles constantly bemoaning every single aspect of our society and the heritage that we have. Perhaps we pought to treat society more like our own homes, and foster that feeling. It may sound inane to say so, and perhaps futile, but we don’t need to complain about the clocks changing. Let it happen. Let your feet walk this merry earth without one more thing to consternate about and worry about. It’s simply really, like the pigeons back at the town square, just outside the station, you can babble on all day with endless talk and discussion about something useless. But, at the end of the day, the most simple solution is often the best and the most efficient way of saving time and energy: go for the reduced sandwich, my dear techno-pigeon.
We, as a society, need to stop learning to train each other on ways to undo every single thing around us. If we do this, what would be left with? If we continue to whittle down every single aspect of our lives, we are not adding meaning. We are simply wasting energy. The countless articles that come out every autumn at this time of year is hilarious. The sheer number of articles bemoaning AI actually annoy me more than any. Like most things in society, we don’t really know why we do what we do. But that’s the best part about life: it’s the funny things we do on a Tuesday afternoon for no reason whatsoever. This is life. This is living.
So please do excuse me while I get my hypothetical mug of ale, reminisce about Mr. Clippy and entirely ignore AI as it’s about as useless as he was, only somewhat more less pixelated.
TL;DR: Stop complaining about the time change and clocks going back. No one cares.
— Alexander Paul Burton, Toronto, Ontario
