We’re All Aphids

Think about plankton – not Plankton, Mr. Krab’s Spongebob nemesis – the real stuff, adrift out there in the wide, wide, wide, wide sea. Plankton is a plant that converts sunlight and nutrients or other, creepier stuff, into energy that it converts to matter to become, well, plankton.

So, what IS plankton, in the grand scheme of things (the GSOT)? Why, the building block upon which most ocean life feeds. Big fish eat little fish that eat little fish that feed on plankton.

Now, consider the lowly aphid. I just put a post about aphids on my TangleWicket website, so I’ve been thinking about ’em.

Aphids eat plants, just like those things that feed on plankton, and everybody else feeds on them. Ants actually herd aphids because they produce a gel called honey dew that is a major treat over in the ant hill.

There are tons of bugs that eat aphids – beyond your ladybugs, you got your lacewing larvae and parasitic wasps just for starters. They’re pretty low on the food chain.

It’s okay, because aphids give live birth. To females. No need for male sperm. One aphid can lay up to 80 female aphids during its 25-day lifetime. And they can give birth to a dozen of ’em a day. A day, Louie, a day. Boo-boo-boo-boop look, it’s a whole population!

So, here we are talking about bugs and plankton, and somehow it comes back to you and me, doesn’t it?

In the GSOT, you and I are just consumers of stuff that gets produced, right? We have our preferences, but we don’t have control.

We’re like aphids on the leaf of life, consuming what we assume to be important until we’re one day gobbled up by some entity. We all kick off eventually, right? Go to the Big Whatever – what happens next is anyone’s guess.

While we wait for that eventuality, our minds and wallets are continuously picked and prodded by the world around us – by the world we’ve put around us.

I’ve been wrestling all day with AI – from the confusion of the AI engine I’ve been using to build my websites to the ludicrously cheerful female voice taking my order at Taco Bell to the digital assistant at the CVS to the automated AI job interviewer. I feel picked at, prodded, and reduced to answering human yes/no questions to a machine that, for all its clever words and smarmy voices, still only understands yes/no. Binary switches – maybe a billion of ’em in a row, but binary none the less.

Hmmm, I’m not sure I can help you with that. Please press 1 to try again.

We are gobbled up by the massive, monstrously voracious world around us. Maybe not physically, but our attention, our time, our thoughts.

Because, my friend, you and I? We are merely aphids.

Cap’n Blackthumb Uncovers a Plot Most Foul

A thick, steamy afternoon, a stubborn 3D printer, and one offhand Google article about plant intelligence — and suddenly the whole paradigm flips. Cap’n Blackthumb has uncovered the longest-running conspiracy in human history, and it’s growing right over your bookcase.

You know how it is when the weather is thick and sort of steamy and you have a ton of things to do but you don’t want to do any of them because the weather is thick and sort of steamy and really alls you wants to do is take a nap?

That was me until just, like, 15 seconds ago when I put two and two together to come up with a plot, unfolding right before your very eyes, to take over the world.

Seriously.

I included Cap’n Blackthumb in the title because, frankly, I thought it was funny and because I’ve been struggling all dang day to print a 28mm pirate figure for Tales of the Black Falcon on the Bambu Labs Ai Mini my wife and daughter teamed up to give me on Father’s Day. And, yes, that is a terrible sentence. Shoot me (just don’t make me create another 3D print!).

I saw something on Google while I was waiting to click “Yes, filament is protruding from the nozzle” on the printer – if you tell it no or skip the question you don’t have a happy printing experience. Ask one who knows…

The Google article said that scientists have determined that plants very well may exhibit some degree of intelligence.

All right, Charlie, you’re so smart, why are you creeping over the bookcase? What’s in it for you, eh? Creepin’ around the bookcase, what are you up to?

Charlie, of course, remains mum on the subject.

All right, Mums, let’s have it – what’s Charlie up to?

I’ve been doing a ton of work on my newest (almost) website, called TangleWicket.com. I know, right? Coolest name ever?

That site is devoted to explaining the world of gardening to those of us who kill plants just by looking at ’em. Although the site is mostly written by Claude.AI (because I don’t know a dead plant from a hole in the ground) I supervise and edit and illustrate. I do have a job – really. In editing these articles, one thing repeats over and over.

You want the soil to be wet six inches down in order to train the roots to reach down, not up.

Wait. You’re training the plants?

You want to look at the wilted leaves in the cool of the evening. If they’re no longer wilted, it’s because the plant was saving energy during the day.

Wait. The plants save energy?

Of course they do. Of course they have an intelligence. Of course the grass sighs when you cut it. They’re living things, aren’t they? Don’t they have the right to express themselves?

And then it hit me. How come my neighbor’s shed is overgrown? How come there’s a tree sticking up out of the chimney of that old house? How come, a week after I mow the lawn, those guys are all back at it again, and the weeds that lost their heads now have cousins and brothers and sisters right there along with them?

It’s just what plants do, right? They just grow – and would be everywhere but for that handy jug of RoundUp.

What if, sit down, now, and think about this: what if that intelligence we discussed earlier was linked to the propensity for plants to grow everywhere? What if it wasn’t “just what plants do” but “that’s how plants maintain control of everything, including us?”

Oxygen, remember that stuff? Comes from plants that suck up our CO2, right? Maybe the plants feed oxygen to us to keep us breathing. Maybe they just keep us around to create the carbon dioxide – like maybe we’re their dairy cows or something.

That certainly flips my paradigm, so to speak.

I suppose we could cut down the 3 trillion trees on the planet – oh, but we’d run out of oxygen, wouldn’t we? Ahh, nice play, tree boys.

Forget your conspiracy theories, kids. This one’s a whopper, playing out for as long as humans have been around.

And don’t get me started on mushrooms…

The Duck is Loose

Someone once told me that the most difficult argument is with a stupid person who happens to be right. I knew I’d win that one right off.

So, as is nothing new, I’m having an existential crisis. Holy goose is loose, Batman! My alter ego is a jerk!

I’ve never liked superheroes. Adam West’s Batman was funny, and cool because he lampooned himself and the whole superhero genre. But, since then – I just don’t understand the need for a person with super powers.

I mean, I get it. Superman was the one guy, back in the Great Depression, who didn’t have to worry about anything because he could do everything – even prance around in a circus leotard and not take any grief for it. A “nice buns” comment to the Man of Steel might get your lights punched out. Nice knuckles.

As it turns out, just like a superhero, I have an alter ego. And no, it’s not AI… okay, so I have TWO alter egos.

One, Claude.AI, writes posts that carry my name for my websites (other than this one – I mean, seriously, an AI writing your personal blog?).

The other alter ego is a duck.

It’s been brewing for years, this Donald Duck personality. He’s always shown up in a sticky situation – truth is, I learned to do it when I was in 7th grade, when I found that bullies don’t hit you if they think you’re funny. Oddly enough, having to be funny on demand was its own kind of prison that left me with a weird thing about bullies, and about being funny. Don’t get me started…

The duck was a great hit with my kids’ friends until they reached, like 3rd grade. After that he only told groaners. He did make a nice tension-breaker at work in the office.

And now this.

This video slipped out last week: Duck Video. It went, well, not viral, but viral-adjacent. In my little world, 25 views is a big win. This one almost hit a thousand views. I followed it with this one – Duck Waiting, and this one – Snow. They’ve all set my little “world o’ video” afire!

The problem is that the duck, who is set to take over my entire media empire, is an opinionated, self-righteous goof that may or really most sincerely may not be the most intelligent creature in the heavens.

I was discussing him with my other alter-ego, Claude – that’s an issue all by itself, isn’t it, looking for insight on your mental health from a computer?

We together pondered whither the duck resides. Is he a creepy little guy holding the camera? Sadly, as it’s clear I’m doing his voice, the evidence suggests that perhaps, maybe, I could be the duck. Mois.

I sense your rather rapid inrush of breath and share a similar horror. Could it be he’s been back there all these years, making snide comments that could be deciphered only by yours truly? It’s a Dr. Jekyll/Mr. Hyde moment – a Bruce Banner/Incredible Hulk kind of dealio, I fear. Don’t make me angry…

The Duck has shattered the balance of my publishing empire – per the schedule, there’s to be one post this week for Skippity Whistles, ten posts for TumbleBump, one more episode for The Three Point Line, and a developed script for Tales of the Black Falcon.

And yet, here I am over here on the blog site, wailing about this stupid duck and what it means for my descent into madness while chasing around numbers and likes on YouTube!

Oh, no!

Did I say Descent into Madness like it’s something that’s happening to me? Is descent into madness a thing? Is it a thing? Claude says yes, descent into madness is a thing.

I’m afraid to ask the duck.