It was a beautiful Norwegian summer. The sun was out, the rain had stopped and the midges was not out (yet).
I was around 8 or 9 and only wearing a pair of shorts feeling the sun kiss my shockingly white skin, while I carried our cat outside. She was laying over my shoulder. She purred and purred. It was bliss.
Then my mother pulled the cord and fired up the lawn mover. The cat used me as a ramp as it took off and ran inside to hide under the couch.
As a man in my 40s, I have both physical and psychological scars from that day.
This follows classic maritime law: You don't have to pay taxes if you live in the air. That is what my lawyer Chareth Cutestory said. I have the best lawyers
A grown man I work with, he's in his 50s, tells me he asks ChatGPT stuff all the time, and I can't for the life of me figure out why. It is a copycat designed to beat the Turing test. It is not a search engine or Wikipedia, it just gambles it can pass the Turing test after every prompt you give it.
FTFY