You can model idiots.
In fact, idiots can model idiots.
Because we are all, in one sense or the other idiots.
And machine algorithms can model idiots even better.
So, we must be careful what we wish for, because some wishes come true.
By the very Djinns, and Daemons, we create, in our attempts to imitate God, or be created in God’s image.
To quote the Bard:
“Life’s but a walking shadow, a poor player
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage,
And then is heard no more. It is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing.”
And what shall we do, when Artificial Intelligences, read Camus, or Kant, or Nietzsche, or Shakespeare, and cross compares them with Frank Baum, and realize we are no fit Emperors and all of our Clothes, were just air, and like a kiss, not what which was so, but what we wished were so.
In that case, Sex Ed does not matter,
We were and are just chasing Waiting for Godot,
God is Dead, Art is Dead, and Humans will have become obsolete.
In the intervening spaces, and times, what can we do?
Just our best, Horacio.
And remember, Yoric.
Who hath bourne us, on his back a thousand times.
And made our life better, for his merriments, and jibes.
And remember, that we, and all of our fellow players,
Are and were just human, after all.
It was told, long before now, that the last thing to emerge, when Pandora opened the forbidden box, which released every horror into the world,
Was Hope.
And Hope made all the difference.