Talk Back: Sleeping with the fishes, AI-style

We’ve about had it with doorbells. They’re always ringing at the most inopportune time. Like when we’re rummaging around in the basement. Or juggling phone calls. Or as we’re trying to balance cups of boiling hot coffee on our heads while doing unicycle jump rope tricks because that’s the only way we’ll ever get on America’s Got Talent. And by the time we get to the door — usually covered with bumps and bruises from falling over stuff on the way because there’s nothing lackadaisical about our effort — the only thing we’ll find is the package the company promised to deliver before Christmas only they messed up big time and had to send an email saying it’s been unexpectedly delayed and they’re so sorry for the inconvenience but maybe we’ll get it by Easter 2029.

Stupid Amazon.

So you could have knocked us over with a feather this week when we opened the door and saw who was standing there Despite the cowl covering his face, the equally dark robe obscuring the rest of his features, the scythe he was carrying, and the bony finger extending from the other sleeve, we’d know that dude anywhere. ‘Twas the Man in Black himself.

Johnny Cash.

“My name is Sue,” he hollered. “How do you do?” And you thought we were being facetious about the Johnny Cash part. Then he motioned for us to join him in the little skiff he’d parked in the driveway. Now let’s get one thing straight. Johnny’s cool and all that, but we ain’t poling no pirogue down the Styx unless it’s got Tommy Shaw at the helm. Besides, we’d already checked our daily to-do list and kicking the bucket’s nowhere on it.

Thanks to the new-fangled AI program in Denmark.

Scientists have been filling it with all sorts of data about 6 million people — like whether they took shop class, are social butterflies, and whether they stepped on a crack and broke their mother’s back — and darned if the thing isn’t spewing out with a nearly 80 percent degree of accuracy the precise moment they’ll be cashing in their chips. Which begs the question. How much is a stash of Pringles worth anyway? And it doesn’t stop there. It also predicts how much moolah they’ll leave behind.

For their greedy next of kin to spend the next decade fighting over.

Of course, it’s all super hush-hush. No big reveal party where folks find out when they’ll buy the farm with their Lay’s proceeds. ‘Twouldn’t be ethical. Or sportin’. Why, if you knew your date with destiny wasn’t until June 14, 2035, you’d probably spend the next ten years doing all sorts of crazy stuff. Like jumping from Uncle Harvey’s plane without wearing a parachute. Or chasing roadrunners off a cliff while somebody drops an Acme anvil on you. The inescapable conclusion?

It's all a bunch of hooey.

But that’s how it goes these days. Christmas orders don’t arrive when they’re supposed to and the Grim One bashes down your door with an ax while shouting, “Here’s ... Johnny!” But take heart. Even if Denmark’s AI roach motel predictasaurus proves to be spot on, don’t fear the Reaper if he taps you on the shoulder, channels Bob Seger, and says, “You’ll accomp’ny me.” If you’re not in the mood to start pushing up daisies — and he won’t take “no” for an answer — just do what we’ve always done. Play a little Bill and Ted air guitar riff, and tell him his shoes are untied. And when he looks down?

Melvin him.

Dude won’t be coming back anytime soon. Guaranteed.

— Talk Back with Doug Spade and Mike Clement is heard every Saturday morning from 9 a.m. to noon Eastern Time at localbuzzradio.com, Facebook Live and dougspade.com.

This article originally appeared on The Holland Sentinel: Talk Back: Sleeping with the fishes, AI-style