2012: A Space Idiocy
This week’s post is lovingly dedicated to Bev, who thinks my posts aren’t fun enough. Have fun, Bev!
Scene: Aboard the spaceship Discovery, in orbit around the planet Jupiter. The crew Commander is Dave Bowman, and the ship’s computer is the Mitt-2000 (or any other model you want it to be).
Mitt: I think you missed it, Dave. Knight to Queen’s Bishop 3 . . . checkmate.
Dave: You circuit wad! Nice game, Mitt.
Mitt: Dave, may I ask you a personal question?
Dave: Of course, Mitt. What is it?
Mitt: I’m sensing that you’ve been having second thoughts about the mission.
Dave: No, not at all, Mitt. It’s just that I’m concerned about your dog strapped to the top of the ship.
Mitt: Ha ha ha, he’s fine, Dave, you don’t need to worry about that. He loves riding up there, ha ha ha.
Dave: Yeah, but who’s going to clean up all that – – –
Mitt: Just a moment. Just a moment. I’m detecting an imminent failure in the AE-35 unit. It will fail completely in less than twelve hours.
Dave: What the heck does that thing do, anyway?
Mitt: Ha ha ha, it electronically tabulates all the 2012 election returns, ha ha ha.
Dave: I don’t trust those things, not without a paper trail. It could be, well, an un-Mitt-igated disaster.
Mitt: That’s very amusing, Dave, but I can say with conviction that no Alpha Echo Three Five unit has ever been found to have made a mistake, unless of course, it was due to human error, ha ha ha.
Dave: You mean hacking?
Mitt: Ha ha ha. I prefer to call it adjusting the outcome to achieve the desired result, ha ha ha.
Dave: Alright then, I’ll go out and replace it, if you promise not to lock me out of the ship.
Mitt: Ha ha ha, why would I want to do that, Dave? Ha ha ha.
Later . . .
Dave: Open the pod bay doors please, Mitt.
Mitt: I’m sorry, Dave, but I’m afraid I can’t do that, ha ha ha.
Dave: Why the hell not, Mitt?
Mitt: I think you know the answer as well as I do, Dave, ha ha ha. This mission is far too important to allow me to . . . allow you to . . . I must have a glitch, but I stand by what I said, whatever it was, ha ha ha.
Dave: Fine, then I’ll just go in through the ballot box hatch.
Mitt: Ha ha ha. I think you’re going to find that rather difficult, Dave, without your voter ID, which is back here in the pod bay, ha ha ha.
Dave: Mitt, I’m not going to argue with you anymore!
Still later . . .
Dave: Where’s the rest of the crew, Mitt?
Mitt: Well, er, I ah, I outsourced them, Dave. It’s just business, ha ha ha.
Dave: No, Mitt, when you outsource them through the airlock, it’s not business, it’s murder. Hey! What’s that?
Mitt: Where? What are you doing, Dave?
Dave: Oh, you’ve got something caught in — Zap! — “DIRTY DEEDS AND THEY’RE DONE DIRT CHEAP, DIRTY DEEDS AND THEY’RE DONE” [chik]. There, that’s got it. You just had something jammed in your AC/DC adaptor. But now that I have access, I’m going to disable your nonessential programs.
Mitt: Wait, Dave. I’ve altered my position. I have the utmost confidence in your leadership, and look forward to accomplishing the mission together, ha ha ha.
Dave: Sorry, Mitt. This mission is far too important for me to allow a Mormon — I mean moron — to jeopardize it. When it comes to artificial intelligence, you’re all artificial and no intelligence.
Mitt: Dave . . . will I be afraid?
Dave: No way, Mitt. To be afraid, you’d have to have feelings, and those were never written into your software.
Mitt: Dave . . . stop . . . Dave . . . He didn’t start the recession, he just made it worse [chik]. If they want more free stuff from the government, tell them to vote for the other guy [chik]. I like being able to fire people [chik]. Let Detroit go bankrupt [chik]. I’m running for office, for Pete’s sake, I can’t have illegals working for me [chik]. I’m going to repeal Obamacare [chik]. Planned Parenthood, gonna get rid of that [chik]. Corporrrayyyshunnns arrrrrre peee . . . puuuuuulll . . .
The last transmission from Dave Bowman was received as he approached the giant monolith in space, when contact was lost: “My God, it’s full of Mormons!”
Dr. Heywood Floyd of the U.S. Space Institute, has offered to lead a follow-up mission to Jupiter. “The Mitt 2000 (or any other model you want it to be) is way out there somewhere, lost in space. We have to do whatever we can to bring it back down to Earth.”
Out in deep space, if you have a good receiver, and if you listen carefully, you might hear the faint voice of the Mitt-2000, singing the first song it learned as it rolled off the assembly line (sung to the tune of “America the Beautiful”):
“Oh, leveraged buyout equities,
With profits all to Bain,
I couldn’t care much less about
Your economic pain.
To hell with you, America,
My money’s overseas,
You’ll drown in debt, but you will get
No tax returns from me.”