Royal Wedding Commemorative


We decided to opt-out of the Kate and Bill Wales story as we can only tolerate a certain percentage of madness in any given fiscal year.  Royal weddings can easily exceed our mandated maximum, especially if they occur in the UK.  The madness doesn’t necessarily happen because of the media, as it is expected the ink-stained wretches go all sloppy, but more because of the rampant venal merchandising that gloms its’ mitts onto any occasion.

For instance, the ‘replica’ Royal engagement ring only available in this limited time offer, strict limit of one per household, normally priced at $119.00, now just $39.90, with a hinged velveteen box and Certificate of Authenticity.  If one combined folded cigarette foil for the ‘silver’, broken windshield glass for the ‘diamonds’ and a shard of an old Noxzema jar for the ‘sapphire’, then assembled the pieces could be construed as a ‘replica’ of the Kate and Bill engagement ring.  It’s so ugly that the ring itself will scuttle under the fridge if you turn on the kitchen lights. 

By the same rules of ‘replica’ commemoratives, I’m Ray Charles, because I have at least two feet and so did Ray.  We’ll overlook the logic of the comparison as I am younger, Caucasian, untalented, won’t sing, can’t play the piano, am partially sighted and not currently dead.  I can however provide a Certificate of Authenticity.  I’ll even throw in a hinged velveteen box, so you can call me Ray Charles too.

The madness comes from the reaction of supposedly sane consumers who upon seeing the commercials for any kind of commemorative, immediately whip out the credit card and start pounding the phone to order this material.  The Cook Islands, the Franklin Mint and hundreds of other commemorative manufacturers seem to tap into some poorly formed area of the consumer brain that insists on parting with money for commemoratives and collectibles.  Why?  Are we actually that malformed and lacking in self-esteem that we think the possession of recycled-glass-not-even-close replica of some dead Royal’s ring, somehow will convey the status of near-Royalty to our mantle, if we had a mantle? 

Yes.  We are that dumb.  If we weren’t, these commemorative folks would have gone out of business generations ago, but, like mercury in the bloodstream, they’re still with us.

As for Kate and Bill?  We wish them well. 

An American Primer on the Royal Family


Some of our American readers don’t quite comprehend the curious relationship of the British Royal Family on many Canadians, so here’s an explainer.  Please forgive us for oversimplifying.

Canada is a different country than the US, therefore we have a different history.  We share the same pissed off Mongols who walked a land bridge across the Bering Straight, looked around and said “Eff that, we’re going home.  Where’s the bridge back?  Awww Shit!”  These would be our First Nations/Aboriginal peoples.  Those would be the folks who met the boat carrying our ancestors and kept them from starving to death.

For the longest time we were a French colony or a British colony, depending on where you lived.  After a couple of wars, the Brits won and around 1710, many of the French who lost were kicked out.  Parenthetically, Cajuns down Louisiana way?  They’re Canadians, more correctly Acadians, who left for the nearest French colony, which happened to be in Louisiana.

We had a British King, but since the King couldn’t really (or didn’t want to) come over to sign various laws, he would appoint a representative called a Governor-General every few years.  The G-G would ensure taxes got paid, laws were upheld and things more or less moved along. 

After your Revolutionary War, where you put the boots to the whole British King concept, a lot of the folks who didn’t buy into the Republic went North.  Up here, they were called Loyalists, while down your way, they were called ‘assholes’, followed by “Goode Friggin’ Riddances!”

We kept up the colony thing until 1867, when there were enough of us around to ask for our own country, technically a Dominion, called Canada.  Since Britain didn’t actually care about us, they went along with the joke.

We kept a lot of the mechanisms of the British Parliament, in that we have a Prime Minister who is a sitting, elected, Member of Parliament and our own version of the House of Lords from the UK, that we call a Senate.  Senators are not elected up here, in keeping with the House of Lords idea of the Chamber of Sober Second Thought being appointed by the Prime Minister in the name of the Crown.  Our Senators are as useless as tits on a brick, just like the House of Lords in Britain.

The Statute of Westminster in 1931 cut a lot of the colony ties, in that we could do more or less what we wanted, including fighting in wars.  It finished up with the Canada Act of 1982 when we got our own home-grown constitution.  Your Kennedy Family is absolutely nothing like the Royal Family:  Not even in the same time zone.

Our British traditions and history only partly explain the Royal Family ties with Canada.  Since 1952, when Queen Betty the Deuce took over the family business, either her, her sisters or her kids have been to Canada about nine hundred and fifty thousand times.  Canada, at least from the perspective of the Royal Family, is a safe gig; easy peasie time.  We don’t make them eat sheep’s eyeballs or sit through bum-numbing hours of “native” dancers in fur and feathers doing “traditional” dances celebrating harvesting the pilchards.  From a Royal perspective, a Canada trip is simple, the food is safe, the hotels are clean and the peasants are content to wave back with all five fingers.  Ask Dubya about our penchant to wave at certain foreign heads of state with only one finger.

Despite the affinity, Canadians don’t look to the Queen or to Britain for our politics or foreign policy.  We do share the concept of a parliamentary democracy, but Canada is nowhere  near the nanny state the UK currently is:  We’re a nice hybrid of the tradition of Peace, Order and Good Government and some of the worst excesses of our Republican neighbours to the south.

Which still doesn’t fully explain why Canada is smitten with the Royals and the upcoming nuptials of William and Kate.

Think of the Rose Bowl Parade in Pasadena.  There’s miles of chicken wire strung over trailers and tractors, marching bands, clowns and enough roses to make California smell like an Old Age Home.  Millions of people watch it with a fervor bordering on mania to see what?  Parade floats honouring the Philippine Pineapple Importer’s Association? Does the acronym WTF come to mind?

That’s what the Royal Family is to Canada.  It is a parade float, full of beauty, tradition and millenary arts signifying nothing but pleasant enough to watch for a day or two.  Will Canadians be setting their alarm clocks for 0200 on Friday, so they can dress up and watch Bill and Katy get hitched? 

And they’ll enjoy every minute. 

Been Working Update


Sorry about not posting for a while but sometimes work intrudes and we all know that work-life balance isn’t just a way of life, but a concept.

Suffice to say the election up here is provoking outbreaks of spontaneous narcolepsy amongst the citizens.  The various leaders and their fartcatchers seem to think we, the polloi, actually give a flying fornicative act about who will putatively govern us after May the 5th or so. 

The short form is that Harper still comes across like the micromanaging punk bully he is, while Jack Layton looks longingly to being back behind the meat counter at Sobeys’s cutting up roasts and chops.

Iggy?  Ignatief looks like Keith Richards’ evil twin doing a perp walk after a bad night.  The new Liberal slogan is “Vote for the Undead.  At Least You Know What You’re Getting”  Meanwhile the rest of Canada says “Gilles Who?” upon hearing Gilles Duceppe’s name.  Duceppe comes across as a ten-year old boy caught jerking off by his Mom while he was watching Thierry La Fronde.  Elizabeth May, of the Green Party is that microscopic blip on a microscopic blip on the very edge of the Galactic Event Horizon.   

We’ll probably get another Conservative minority government and with any luck will break the 40% barrier, meaning only 40% of the population are motivated enough to make some kind of mark on a ballot.  In our riding, the polling places are a little too public, so we won’t be able to wipe our arses on the ballot, which is what we really, really want to do. 

Apple fanboys are hiding their faces in shame as it has come to light that Steve Jobs’ Church of Apple religion has been secretly tracking your whereabouts on your iPhone.  You can turn the geolocation feature off, if you jailbreak the phone, uninstall the ‘helper’, invalidate your warranty and incur the wrath of the AppStore forever more.  Oh and you get Eternal Damnation as a bonus.  Steve Said So, Selah, It Is So.

In other news, Japan is closing off most of the North East corner of their country as the various reactors that got whacked in the earthquake and tsunami continue to puke their radioactive innards into the sea, onto the land and into the air.  Fukisima will reopen in a few years as “Round Eye Land” a tourist destination for those not from Japan who want to see what radiation burns look like. up close and personal.

Let’s see what else comes up.  Libya.  Anniversary of the BP/Gulf Oil spill.  US economy in the toilet, unless you’re wealthy and a banker.  Most countries, except China, looking to default on their national debts, while the US sells military drones to Pakistan.  Same old, same old.

Of course, one would be remiss without mentioning the upcoming Royal Wedding, as all our media are sending fleets of crews and reporters to breathlessly inform us that Kate is wearing designer so and so and the Queen looks pleased. 

We need bread, but we need circuses too. 

 

 

 

 

Guest Commentator–Mason Baveux


We’re up to our gumboot tops on the job, so we bought Mason a mickey of Palm Breeze to fill in.  Mason?

Thanks again there lad for the ticket to bloggery and the mickey of coffee sweetener will go a long way to takin the chill out of the weather.  You asked me to look over the news and see what comes up, so’s I did.

Libya:  Them NATO lads are doin a no-fly zone sos to keep Moe Cadaffy from killin everyone what isn’t him.  She’s a good idea on the surface, but they’s overlookin the oblivious.  Airplanes cost fer gas and guns and people what to drive’em and change the oil.  That adds up to a bit of change, and change is what Mo Cadaffy don’t want. 

If they’d just off Mo Cadaffy, then the NATO flyboys (and girls) can go home.  Bomb the snot out of his house, then make the ashes bounce again, then once more to make sure.  If Libya can’t get change after that, then to hell with them all.  We’re not invadin, move on.

Japan.  Jeeze that makes me head hurt.  The ground goes shaky, then the Sue-nami comes ashore and washes about 50 thousand folks away.  Then they get a bunch of reactors goin all cattywampus threatening to melt through the planet to come out around Ann Arbor Michigan.  All I know for sure is it ain’t no easy fix and it won’t be done by dinner time, even if media don’t cover it no more.

The Media.  I’ve had me about enough of them pundicks talkin their jaws off about how some politician is or isn’t left or right, or up or down.  Hey, media!  Whyn’t ya try lookin for some facts once in a while, as your opinions don’t mean jack squat.  We got a one-time Cabinet advisor up here cavortin with some 22 year old ‘sex trade worker’ (which is just code for she’s a whore) who’s what wound up ownin’ about 20 percent of some shell-game sellin water filters to First National reservations with Federal funding, all run by this one time advisor who’s gettin rich and getting his handrail shined.  The last time we had somethin’ this tacky was when Mackenzie King would ask someone to lend him five bucks after a Cabinet meeting.  I’s so fed up with the bullhockey that passes for reportin, that I’m about ready to renounce my membership in the Nancy Wilson Fan Club. 

Late Breakin’ News.  Hey, we got a bulletin here and I’s always wanted to say that.  Seems that our esteemed Federal Representatives have decided to dissolve Parliament and toss us off the dock of a Federal Election into a half-frozen lake and it ain’t even the 2-4 Weekend yet. 

Nows, being thrown off the dock is how I learned to swim, but dammit Janet, this time we get thrown off the dock with a chain around our neck and the four cinderblocks we’ve got for party leaders are goin to take us all to the bottom.  It sure looks like we’re not going to be votin for anything, but just votin for the one that doesn’t actually suck as much shiite as the other three. 

I wanta pass a law that all of them, that Browshirt Harper, Iggy the Undead, Jack the Meat Department Manager at Sobey’s and Gilles Doucheppe be legally prohibited from ever being organ donors.  We surely don’t want that kind of genetic material bein out and about.  I’m sort of thinkin of passin the hat at the Center to send all four of them to Japan to go stand on a reactor for an afternoon.  They’d be dumb enough to do it, if we told them it was a campaign contribution.  With any luck, it’d be a one-way ticket. 

We could find some retired hockey players with multiple concussions who’d run our government.  I know a guy named Slappy who runs the Zamboni up Middletown way.  Slappy still wears his hockey helmet from Junior A thirty years ago and for five bucks he’ll eat a stick of butter on a dare, then puke it up.  He couldn’t be any worse than the collection of lint we got runnin things now.

Frig Dave!  What the hell are we gonna do?

Japan Revisit


Looking back over the past few days’ coverage of the Japan Earthquake and Tsunami, aside from the jaw-dropping scope of the disaster, one can be struck by an observation:  There has been no breakdown of society, no looting, no massed protests, no bashing down the doors of the police stations.  Despite being in the most singularly difficult situation that can befall an island nation, Japan seems to keep moving along, working itself out of the hole.

We’re reasonably certain there have been episodes of badness occurring:  People under exceptional stress will behave poorly, no matter what, but in this instance, tens of thousands of homes erased, thousands of bodies washing up on shore, whole towns scraped away, the coverage on several media outlets has not shown badness happening.  Why?

The simple reason could be that there is no reporting of looting because there is no looting, rioting and civilian chaos nine days after the disaster changed the entire country of Japan.  By comparison (we can’t do apples to apples here) Haiti fell over in a couple of days and New Orleans imploded in less than 72 hours. 

One could argue that the elemental character of Japan precludes such uncivilized nonsense, but that is such a broad stereotype that it borders on racism.  To say that any nation is all one way or the other is objectionable, but it doesn’t bring us closer to an answer.

We do know that as a country, Japan has regular drills to cope with the spectrum of natural disasters that can hit their islands.  Tsunami evacuation routes are posted on the sidewalks and school children are taken on the drills as a matter of course.  Earthquake-resistant structures are common, as well as training the population how to react in an earthquake.  Those simple, but important, steps go a long way in getting a population to recognize that bad things can happen, easily, in their own neighborhoods.

Perhaps it is Trust.  The majority of people trust the authorities will do the right things, with the needed resources to put things as right as can be put right. 

The other descriptor that comes to mind is:  Dignity.  Are the majority of people self-aware enough to recognize that their personal dignity precludes walking out of a store with an armload of small appliances because there has been a flood?  Looting a store of milk and diapers we can overlook, as it speaks to the imperative of protecting your child, hardwired into any parent, but putting the grab on a big screen TV, no.

There was a scene in the coverage we caught earlier this week.  An older woman was found by the Japanese rescue forces.  They had recovered what seemed to be the body of a family member.  The woman bowed to the rescuers, to acknowledge and thank them for their efforts, then stooped to examine the remains.  It was her family member.  She bowed again to the rescuers then bowed in prayer, as the rescuers joined her in a moments’ prayer over the body. 

Aside from making tears shoot out of my eyes, it says much about the gratitude. compassion, respect and dignity shown and received by a group of three people, in the most difficult possible situation, on the street of a devastated town somewhere in Japan.

Wiser minds than ours will derive lessons from that short, poignant tableau. 

       

  

TSA X-Ray Machines


In some previous posts we’ve taken a few slices off the TSA’s backscatter X-Ray process, highlighting the serious flaws that permeate the entire concept from eyelids to toenails. 

The 247 airport body scanners at 38 airports are the backscatter-show-us-your pubes-nudie-shots machines.  The TSA has finally ‘fessed up that the technology is (or isn’t) putting out more radiation than expected.  What this actually shows, aside from radiating regular citizens with unknown doses of x-rays, is that the TSA is dangerously inept.

The distressing evidence in the USAToday article is that the TSA has a “haphazard oversight and record-keeping in the critical inspection system the agency relies upon…”  Or, to translate from bureaucratese, the TSA has no clue, no idea where to look for a clue and no idea what to do, if they find a clue, as well as what do to when the clue bites them on the ass after it takes a piss on the TSA’s leg.

To quote from the article,  Rep. Jason Chaffetz (R-Utah) said “It is totally unacceptable to be bumbling such critical tasks.  These people are supposed to be protecting us against terrorists.”

Rapiscan, the company that made the machines, said their own engineers who tested the machines, were confused by inspection forms and instructions that led their folks to make mistakes that vastly inflated the radiation emitted by the machines.  This also gives us the warm-and fuzzy feeling that the TSA is hiring people who know what they’re doing and have at least a base-level competence. 

Why are we not surprised? 

Japan


The earthquake and tsunami that rolled over parts of Japan is one of those things that happen on this planet from time to time.  Our first instinct is to help in some kind of way, which is only natural and good.  The problem that always seems to come up is not the why but the harder question:  How.

We’re not trained rescue Search and Rescue technicians, or paramedics who can jump on a flight and start fixing things in Sendai, even if we could get time off, have the money for a ticket and so on.  We are forced to be passive observers, which is frustrating in some ways.  What we can do is help those who can actually help.  This usually means the topical application of money, in the form of donations to charities.

There have been reports of several instant charities popping up to take advantage of the disaster.  Many are using Facebook and Twitter as their way to reach out, while others are sticking with email pleadings.  Some may be well-meaning but inept, while others are outright frauds.  Since we can’t go and help, we make the intellectual linkage that it is good to help the charities that are doing the work, skipping that step of ensuring the organization we’re supporting with our dollars are effective, efficient and real. 

If you want to help Japan, there is one real way:  The International Committee of the Red Cross, the ICRC.  The Red Cross and Red Crescent are the preeminent providers of disaster relief worldwide and they use your money correctly to help.

As for the other groups that are suddenly going to appear?  If you’ve never heard of them before, odds are people in Japan who need help will never hear of them either.

Give, absolutely, but give wisely.   

Guest Commentator–Mason Baveux


I’ve been too busy with other projects to write, so I have enlisted our esteemed pinch-hitter Mason Baveux to fill in this week.  May God have Mercy, he’s going to talk about Revolution.

Thanks there lad for callin’ me up outa the Blue.  I’da preferred youda called me up out a the Molson’s, but ‘tis what she be.  I missed doin the bloggery since you don’t live in Toronto no more and don’t drop by the center since she’s a five hour haul away by car, sixteen hours if you fly and a week and a half by train.  Friggin Via.

I’se wanted to talk about these here revoltings in the Arab world.  Seems that all the countries along the top of Africa what are Arab are startin to get all exercised about ‘overthrowin the dictatorships’ and getting freedomed up. 

Tunisia, which I think is where they invented Tunisia salad, kicked her off with their Jasmine Revolution.  They right shitcanned some dictator called Zine El Abidine Ben Ali who ran the show for thirty years, doin the usual dicktater nonsense of featherbedding his nest, printin his own money and then buggerin off to Parts Unknown with about $30 zillion dollars in gold.

A week and a bit later:  Egypt does’er up a treat.  Hoseme Mubarak, who what was running a hell of a Pyramid Scheme for another nearly 40 years, gets the message to “Eff Off” from the population, what called up CNN and said, just like the Price is Right, “Come on down!”  Hoseme, (who really shoulda changed his name to Howard or Hank, ‘cept it would have sounded Jewish-like) got the message too and he pissed off to some Egyptian resort called Shirrif El Sheik, which sounds like it was named for pie filling mix and prophylactics, but she’s on the sea.

Then there’s this crazy bastard Mo Quadaffy.  He’s been messed up in the head for years.  Back when Dutch Regan ran the US, Mo decided to piss on Ronnies leg and say it was rainin’ out.  But Ronnie warn’t that dumb and sent over the Air Force to bomb the snot out of Libya.  I guess the idea was to bomb’er back to the Stone Age, but the problem was Libya warn’t too far outta the Stone Age, so nobody could tell.  About all Dutch Regan did was get a rep for being tough. Then he showed Grenada what for too.

But Mo Quadaffy’s still around.  I’se saw him on the news and he looked like he’s the kinda guy what would be an Arab Michael Jackson what didn’t sing nor dance, dressed like a loon and about as crazy as as trunk full of shithouse rats.  Mo has said he’ll burn the effin joint to the ground and then sic the Army on what’s left over, if the protesters don’t all go back home.  The Libyan Army’s been busy callin in airstrikes on folks armed with sticks and rocks, but apparently outside the big city, the Army has just buggered off for a tea and ain’t come back.

What was really tellin me a lot was our government, with that shitforbrains Harper, sent over two planes to get our fellow Canadians out of Libya and both times the planes come back empty. 

Seems nobody figured out that maybe if we call up the couple of hundred Canadians living there and tell them when the plane is going to show up, they might somehow magically make their way to the friggin airport and get the hell out of Dodge.  But No, that would make friggin sense. 

What the hell kind of retard school do these people have to go to, to be that friggin dumb and still be allowed off of the ward?  Oh, that’s right, it’s our Foreign Affairs Minister, Larry, “Boom-Boom” Cannon who couldn’t organize a two-car funeral.  He’s in Cabinet dont’cha know.  Jeeze Louise, he’s got his head so far up Harper’s arse, he can almost see Peter MacKay’s shoes.

We’re waitin on Mo Quadaffy to step aside shortly.  Where we’re havin fun here at the Center is bettin on what joint is going to get revolting next.  I’se put down a loonie on it being Israel, as the Israelis don’t like being left out of nothing.  Mark the K says Kuwait is next, while Billy be callin for Algeria and Johnny Rock says it’s going to be England.  I think Johnny Rock is way out in left field;  he’s not been right since he fell off the Zamboni and got his concussion like Sid the Kid.

That’s all she wrote from here ‘cept to quote an old joke:

Sire, the peasants are revolting!

Now that’s not nice Mister Prime Minister, they’re just homely is all.

 

 

 

 

       

  

Refried History


The clever RoadDave readers will notice some subtle changes over the next few weeks.  The original RoadDave was a Microsoft Website that we updated regularly, with writings from the road.  There was no ‘blogging’ back then, or even tools to blog with.  One cold afternoon, Mothership informed us that we were being ported to something called Live Spaces, which was before this iteration of RoadDave on WordPress.com. 

What happened in the intervening years was a lot of the 2002 to 2006 postings on RoadDave disappeared, as the first version was mothballed then 404’d.  Through a happy coincidence, a site called Multiply sent me a link to the old RoadDave where many of the old posts and some of the old photos still live.  Kismet.

As time moves along, we’re taking the old postings, with their original date of publication and moving them to the WordPress blog.  The old photos will come too, aided by their assistance dog.  You’ll see posts going back to August 2002 and if you are inclined to read them, just scroll down the left hand side of the page for each months’ entries. 

We’re not correcting them beyond the obvious spelling errors, as the old postings are what they are.  I wrote differently then, but I also write differently now and a rewrite seems unfair, perhaps even vaguely unethical.  RoadDave was never meant to be a documentary record of pristine historical importance.  With any luck, it never will be either.     

“We’re Screwed” for $200 Alex


Two of the large brains on that iconic game show “Jeopardy” played against Watson the IBM computer this week in a battle of the smarts.  Ken Jennings and Brad Rutter are the two humans going head to head with a rack of electronics, under the watchful gaze of Alex Trebek as host.  To quote Trebek on Monday, “You are about to witness what may prove to be an historic competition.”

Computers playing tic-tac-toe have been around for decades, as the programming is not that difficult.  The strategies are simple and the rules are not complex for tic-tac-toe. 

Chess is exponentially several thousand times more complex than tic-tac-toe, but again, there is a limit to the moves possible under the rules.  Deep Blue was IBM’s best player, defeating Garry Kasparov in a contentious series of games in 1997.  Now Watson steps up, playing a well known general knowledge game, in that most difficult of languages:  English.

Since I speak English rather well, I take it for granted.  But I also have enough smarts to know that for someone who is not a native speaker, English is one of the hardest languages to learn with any sort of facility.  In ‘proper’ English, the words whey, weigh and way, all pronounced the same, mean at least three different things.  Context is everything in proper English.  Add the layers of slang, common usage or regionalisms on top of it and English becomes all but impenetrable unless you are immersed in the context of the language.  Watson got around the sound of words by using text as the input, the spelling of the words being different enough to give some clues as to the usage.

To use a simple, declarative sentence:  “You are my female domestic dog” communicated to a computer, makes no sense.  The computer can translate the words, but not the context. 

To a human “You’re my bitch!” means you’re getting a mouth full of knuckles, unless you’re saying that in the proper context or either prison or the House of Commons during Question Period.

Where IBM’s Watson was showing a weakness is in context and in reacting to the other players incorrect answers.  This doesn’t mean Watson is stupid, it merely shows a logic gap playing Jeopardy that can be addressed.

Did Watson kick ass and take names?  Most certainly it did and showed that with some heavy computing power and very clever programming, a computer can git’er done.  Could Watson understand the Larry The Cable Guy cultural reference in the previous sentence and apply the appropriate irony to it?  Not quite, at least in our estimation.  Those who watched the matches closely noticed that Watson’s top three potential answers were either derivations of the correct answer, or so far out in left-field to be in the 907 area code.

More entertaining was one of Watson’s answers that put Toronto in the US.  Again, just a knowledge gap that can be addressed.  You could see Watson going through the history of what squares held the Daily Double, trying to find the spaces.  Jeopardy players most often start at the top of a category and work their way down the list.  Watson bounced around the board, hunting for the Daily Double as quickly as possible to game the Daily Double. 

The second game saw some changes in Watson:  Something was adjusted.  Watson was able to press the buzzer within milliseconds of being allowed to ring in and in the first game, beat Rutter and Jennings like red headed step-children.  The second game, Watson got beat more than a few times with fast fingered humans who didn’t have the answer completely formed, but knew the data and were able to beat a solenoid connected to some sharp programming.  That would be the difference between a human brain ‘knowing’ the answer and a computer working through the math to score the most likely answer, then punching the button.   

Does this mean we must embrace our new computer overlords?  Not quite yet.