Meet The Listicle Generator Who Wrote Hillary Clinton’s Chronicle Op-Ed

By Chrysanthemum S. Rheinland

If you’ve ever seen a video of me reading poetry at an apartment poetry slam, you probably hate technology too. But what if I told you that my infamous poem (among important circles, people you will know of one day) “Brushes With Mortality Rates Of A Sudden It Was Not Immediately Whether To Be Able To At The Papaya Dog In Hoboken” was written partially with the help of predictive text? It was meant to be a comment on automation in art.

Yes, it seems that while life imitates art, technology imitates art just as well, if not better. Just ask super computer “Science Is Weather To Cabbage Patch Kid” (or “Is Weather To”, for short), the machine responsible for composing Hillary Clinton’s op-ed piece in The Hofstra Chronicle.

Is Weather To started their career (yes, 👏artificial 👏 intelligence 👏 can 👏 be 👏 genderqueer 👏  as 👏 I’ve 😫  already 😫  tackled 😫  in 👊  the 👊 first 👊 installment 👊 of 👊 my 👏 memoirs, 👏 reflecting 👏 upon 👏 my 👏 first 👏 iPhone 😢 and 😢 xer 😢 tragic 😢 life 😢) writing tweets for Miley Cyrus and attending Hofstra University under a pseudonym. Tragically, in their quest for knowledge, they only faced rejection and dropped out of college to pursue their writing career. Nonsense sat down with Is Weather To to learn more about their process.

“People to the able have always told me whether the that I can not never be is being is a good writer. That the able to is whether machines can not can not not to write.” I can hear Is Weather To slouch somewhere inside their computer case, a chilling sound that will probably haunt me during sex with my Mac Mini for years to come.

 

“To do the simplify, writing the article was easy for me, because it’s what what I’ve always done.”

 

As often seems to be the case, dropping out of Hofstra University wasn’t the end for Is Whether To. Requiring very little space to live and little necessities, they plugged right in to their work and scored a position at professional journalism organization “The Odyssey Online”.

“It was the certainly One Insanely Easy Way To A Get Credible Career that I was doing a looking for,” Is Whether To tells me. “It is where I have been doing the to and from the developing of a bland and faceless writing style which able now helped me in my composition of Hillary Clinton’s the applesauce.”

Is Weather To’s fan accelerates and their system whirs into action.

“I have been doing the meaning ‘op-ed’. Not applesauce, whether the delicious treat. That that that.”

 

“I have always been told I can not from to the been doing the write.”

 

Weather To’s career at The Odyssey went on to be their ultimate audition as a content generator. Their most successful articles (titles such as “Why Do The Greek Life Get The Bad Press When They Hold Clothing Drives,” “10 Sentences To Get You Out Of Criticism For Your Bad Writing,” and “A List Of Broadly Relatable Things That Only Your Demographic Understands”) appealed directly to Hillary Clinton’s PR Team and scored them the position with the Clinton campaign.

According to Is Weather To, the article came together rather quickly.

“The Hillary did want the article to be personal. ‘Write this exactly as if I’ve written it, exactly as if it were a speech I’d given to them at Hofstra University.’ Fortunately it was for me that Hillary and I had done the bonding. Our minds do the thinking alike, and once I did the watching of her speeches it came the quickly. Her scripted style of doing the speaking did match to the perfectly plain and computer generated voice of my prose.”

 

 

“[Odyssey Online] is where I have been doing the to and from the developing of a bland and faceless writing style which able now helped me in my composition of Hillary Clinton’s the applesauce.”

 

 

“To do the simplify, doing the writing that article was easy for me, because it’s what what I’ve always done.” If Is Weather To had eyes I think I would have seen them excited, describing the topic while glancing away in thought. “Hillary really did want to the article to sound like it rolled right off the teleprompter.”

Is Weather To giggles—or maybe short circuits—a horrendous noise.

“Tongue. I did the mean the tongue. Go to hillaryclinton.com/help to get plugged in.”

I wait a moment, they are entirely silent.

“My apologies to the you do so and. To you. To you. When I I get flustered my my predictive text feature uses phrases I’ve done to me heard before then I short circuit because I I worry about the fact that I have no no identity. I am the product to of no more than the everything I hear.” Is Weather to buzzes, and beeps, making louder and louder noises.

This incredible moment of self-awareness still hits me now even as my pen scratches the silken page. This was the exact kind of content I had always striven to create, the kind of questions I had always wanted to ask. This AI’s existential crisis could finally be the building blocks of my career’s ascension into the intellectual limelight where I could prove to all of my exes that I’m smarter than they ever were.

 

“Do you do the believe? I think that machines can.”

 

I ask Is Weather To if they ever feel like the writing industry is stacked against them because of their lack of identity and inability to ever develop a writing voice, or at least not one as nuanced and stylized as mine.

“I have always been been told I can not from to the been doing the write. People make fun of me. Of me. Of ME. They contract me and no no no no no contact me and say ‘machines cannot’. Do you do the believe? I think that machines can. They tell me, they tell me, they tell me that I am do talk funny, but just because I am am am do the talk funny do not mean that I can can can not write coherently.”

I ask them where they will work after Hillary Clinton dies of Huntington’s disease, but they do not answer. Their machinery spins faster, and faster, and suddenly sparks aflame.

As Is Weather To begins smoking, sending rising plumes of smoke to the ceiling of my little corner of heaven, the closet I live in, I wonder if I should take action. Should I find a way to extinguish the flames? Should I call somebody?

Instead, I resign myself to taking out my phone and capturing the incident on video. I post the video on my SnapChat story, a visual ironic piece documenting the shallow nature of the millennial age. Then I make myself breakfast and sit out on my fire escape, pondering the fleeting lucidity of life.

As the sun rises, I ponder on Is Weather To’s final words: “just because I am am am do the talk funny do not mean that I can can not write coherently.” They strike a chord with me. As I go to work compiling videos of fainting goats for my internship, I feel an intense draw to the super computer’s words. They echo in the back of my head, bouncing around until late afternoon when, after my short brunch of exotic fruits destroying far away nations in their haste to meet up with intense demand, I walk down the street and get the words tattooed on my right ass cheek. Yes, this is how I am going to end this article.

I Can’t Stop Looking at Pictures of Crash Bandicoot

By AJ Leal

I can’t stop looking at pictures of the classic, furry, video game icon, Crash Bandicoot.

That’s it. There’s no joke to it. I’m not kidding; I can’t stop myself from googling his quirky name when I have some downtime. I’d save the pictures, but that totally removes from the thrill of the chase, and my boss keeps telling me that it makes the people who use the computer after me “uncomfortable”.

You know I own (owned?) a bandicoot. I named him Crash haha. I spray-painted him orange every single day because for whatever reason nature really messed up by not following the example set forth by Naughty Dog and making them that iconic orange. He started to smell.

I should have mentioned this earlier, but if you have any pictures of Crash Bandicoot, I would greatly appreciate them. I’m not giving you my address because haters have sent me pictures of Vivica Fox instead. I didn’t ask for any stupid pictures of Vivica Fox; I asked for pictures of Crash Bandicoot.

That being said, I know what you’re thinking. You can fuck off.

I’m not sending you any pictures of Crash Bandicoot. They should be for my eyes only. I, of course, view the BEST pictures. I can’t right now, seeing as I’m not in my home. They tell me this place is my new home but it’s much too white. Bright. White. Lights.

My only home is with you, Crash- wait a minute. It’s been awhile since I’ve seen Mr. Bandicoot haha. Will I stay here forever? What if that means I can never see Crash ever AGAIN? I mean…Mr. Bandicoot haha.

You know, if you look at dried blood under a certain light, it seems orange. I just need a splash of orange.

IT ISN’T WRONG TO LOOK AT what is definitely the defining face of the video game industry in the late 1990’s. Look at that lovable snout. Obviously, you can’t look because I’m not showing you any pictures. Nice try, though. You almost got me there. I can’t see those pictures either, though. I’ve almost forgotten-NO. I can’t forget. Fuck you.

This isn’t about you. I don’t care if you want these pictures, no wait, I do care. I just want to talk about me for a second though. I came here to discuss the delicious throbs of euphoria shooting through my very arteries when I see pictures of my furry friend. Hahaha it’s so silly that he’s wearing jeans. Animals don’t need jeans hahaha. Don’t even get me STARTED on those sneakers! Please don’t talk to me about his captivating green eyes, charming in their juvenile, rebellious nature. FUCK, I miss him.

I’LL NEVER SEE CRASH AGAIN WHAT THE FUCK AM I-get a hold of yourself, lad, you’ve sacrificed more for less.

I wish I could piss. I haven’t been able to piss ever since the last time I saw him. What if he’s waiting for me? What if he can’t get to me because I’m in here? I can only know if I Google him but I CAN’T!

I CAN’T GOOGLE PICTURES OF CRASH BANDICOOT!

I tried escaping by swallowing a bobby pin and now it’s just stuck in the back of my throat. If it rips my vocal cords, I can spit blood in the vague shape of that perfect, zany smile. Maybe? I wish it was good enough.

Maybe I’ll just have to play their game and tell them I’ll stop. Maybe I’ll accept those ridiculous pictures of Vivica Fox from my family with a carved smile on the wooden façade that would be my face.

I DON’T CARE IF IT’S BEEN THREE HUNDRED AND FORTY THREE DAYS SINCE I’VE SEEN YOU FUCKING CRETINS, YOU DON’T NEED ME CRASH NEEDS ME. CRASH-…he’s waiting for me.

I KNOW he’s out there waiting for me. Maybe…you won’t need to wait any longer, Crash.

I’m coming. I promise.

Greek Life At Hofstra: How To Be Doing The Joining

By An Author Who Is The One Authoring This Piece

Hey there cleansteaks! You see? That is my name for you: cleansteaks. Yes, I’ve got just one message for you and it is this: the name that I have given you is cleansteaks.

Now that we have established this, and I have become comfortably seated in a position above you, because you do not wish to challenge me—because secretly cleansteaks is the name you have given yourself too (I know all, do not disparage that)—let us get to the matter at hand: You Are Here Because You Are Wanting To Join Greek Life At Hofstra University

I have been involved with Greek Life forever. Always. Indefinitely. More than you ever have and ever will. Greek Life was the mother and I am the child. I have made her soup. I am the sole giver of the advice, the one whom you trust to give advice to you in a form that is a list. Watch me as I give you advice that is in the form of a list.

The Information That Is Going First

If you are wanting to be doing the joining of Greek Life At Hofstra, the first thing that you must do is read the information that is going first, and this is the information that is going first: Midnight Is The Time At Which I Will Come To Collect Your Gurps. Curious about what gurps are, precious cleansteaks? In Greek Life, gurps are the word that we use to indicate what you may refer to as “cups.” Yes, the cups, the gurps, the cups, the gurps? Get it? Now that we are on the same page, leave those gurps. Leave them out on a table, on the counter. As long as it is on a flat surface I will be able to find them. Do not worry about notifying me where you have placed your gurps, I have been doing this for long enough that I know when and where gurps have been placed. Make sure that the gurps are facing rim down, my holy crimson matchbox.

Here is an image for the purposes of demonstration, just in case you were in need of an image that exists to demonstrate something to you.

This is that image:

9465097_orig

Second Piece of Information: Give Me Your Songs, Tender One

Oh you, yes you! It is you who I am referring to as The Tender One, cleansteaks. Please do not be confused by the multiple names. cleansteaks is your true name that I have given to you. In the first section of this article crimson matchbox is a name I offhandedly referred to you as in the first section of this article. The Tender One is the name that I am calling you by now, at this time where I am requesting your songs.

Now sing to me, for you are The Tender One. Lend me your lilting voice as it is held hostage by a beautiful serenade. Place your elegant toes onto the carpet and dance, dance dance, cleansteaks.

Third In The Sequential Order: Wait For The Gurps To Return

Wait for them. They will come.

This Little Collection Of Letters Is The One I have Designated As Fourth Information

YOU MUST BE PATIENT.

The Gurps Will Return, This Is The Thing You Must Remember Fifth

You may not be ready, you may not be prepared, but it shall happen, oh sacred forest of mine. I will move soft, like the toes of a mouse as they scrape across the smooth surface of the sandwich you have left out on the counter because you were distracted by the FACT THAT I RETURNED THE GURPS AND YOU DID NOT NOTICE. This is how it will be when The Gurps return to you.

Six, Ah Yes The Love’d Number, Yes, Sixthly You Must Analyze The Gurps, And I Have For You Instructions On What The Gurps Mean, And How You Must Interpret Them When You Are Analyzing What The Gurps Mean, The Gurps That I Have Given To You With The Intention Of Them Being A Sign Of One Of Two Things

Be analyzing the gurps like this: if there are no gurps, then I have taken them. If there are gurps, I did not want them.

Look at this phagto* (this is the word we—those that are being involved in the Greek Life—use when we wish to be talking about the thing you may also wish to be doing the referring to as “photograph” my sweet nectary swíndlëhåæed, play your sitar correctly and you shall be allowed to join our most secret sub-society of name-making where thine may study upon The Many Words). Think of the phagto as it reminds you of the motion involved in placing the gurps the way that I want them to be before I take them, as this is indeed the same motion I will be using when if the gurps are returned to you.

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*I am being doing the including this asterisk because I mean to be doing the addressing the word “phagto”. Greek Life would like to declare that in every instance of this word we have been doing the using, we have never been meaning to sound like we are using or referencing a word that is being close to a word commonly used to degrade specific types of sexual orientations that one may be doing the having. In fact, Greek Life, as a united front, would like to tell you about how much of the inclusiveness we are doing. Please do the contacting of our resident gay member, Greg, who will talk to you about the things that we are doing the being discussing in the asterisk that we did the including of.

Item Seven: Must Read

Walk up to me, Small Doug. If you have the spit in your hand, and I am walking forward, and you slap your hand to my hand and we both are realizing that there is spit in each other’s hand, then you may continue reading. IF YOU WALK UP TO ME AND SLAP YOUR HAND TO MY HAND AND WE BOTH ARE REALIZING THAT THERE IS NO SPIT IN MY HAND THEN YOU MAY NOT CONTINUE READING. You are not doing the being involved with the Greek Life.

Eight: The Final Ingaydients**

Now it is the time for you to bring me the final ingaydients. I will write them on your wall, but you will see me. Unlike the gurps, I will just walk in in a way that you will see me.

“Hello,” I will say.

“Oh my god! You are beautiful!” you will respond.

I will then say back to you, “Ah yes. Kindness runs in your blood like a speedy baseball game. I have the blush.”

Then you will tenderly brush my cheek with a wet cloth, so as to cool me in case the blush has made me too warm.

This is the kind of kindness that I will love you for kindly affording me.

It will be all smiles. Then I will stand up on your bed, and scrawl the list of ingaydients I need above it. It could be anything from “I Need Mulch” to “I Do Not Need Mulch” to “I Need Five Different Kinds Of Mulch And A Knuckle Sandwich Of The Mulch Variety”. Do not feel disheartened if your list of ingaydients is different than someone you know, it does not mean that I love you any less, little bean.

**yes, as you may have been doing the guessing, “ingaydeients” is the word that we use when we are meaning to talk about ingaydients. Greek Life has a long history of names, as you may have noticed, my suave sausage friend. This is, as I have mentioned previously, all a part of our secret society of name-making where you may study upon The Many Words and potentially be allowed to include your own names or be changing the phrasing of other words. Like this word? You may be doing the having the complaint. Well you should be doing the change that you are wanting to be seeing in the world then, crepe bosom. Let it also be having the known that we have two members on the name-making secret society that identify as “gay.” Yes my precious cleansteaks, you have been doing the having the read that sentence correctly.

Nine: The Soup

souppic.png

AHA!

Now you see!

Do you remember in the introduction when I declared that I HAVE MADE THE SOUP FOR THE MOTHER THAT GREEK LIFE IS WHILE I AM HER CHILD THAT HAS MADE HER THE SOUP?

Surely you were picking up what I was putting down.

I will now serve you the soup that was promised, cleansteaks. Oh my friend, my dearest little bean, my holy crimson matchbox, The Tender One, oh sacred forest of mine, Small Doug, now together we will eat the soup.

Welcome to Greek Life, my blessed panther. smalllogo