Because James Thurber's work is still in the public domain, we broke our promise to not use AI and... used it to write this short story.
This Podcast Is... Uncalled For
Inbox Ignorance
Hi, I'm Mike Czerniewski and you are listening to this podcast is "Uncalled for." [MUSIC] Welcome to the podcast, well, let's go ahead and season seven on a bit of a high note. So from the beginning of this podcast, I thought to myself how I would love to end a season reading James Thurber, short story, in particular one that's entitled "File and Forget." There's a bit of a problem with that, and it is Thurber's work is not in the public domain. It will not be in the public domain until 2031 at the absolute earliest life plus 70 years. Thurber died in 1961, so we have to wait till 2031 to get the public domain until then. You would have to contact Thurber House in Columbus, which I did very early on, and they never got back to me. But a quick, just real quick, what is that short story about? It reads like a series of letters from Thurber to various parties and then back over some books that he was about to receive that he didn't ask for. I did not read. I did not order 36 copies of this book. So, why I did? I know a swore I would never use chat GPT and AI to write material for the podcast. This is the one exception, and it came up with this is entitled "Inbox Ignorance" by chat GPT, and I will read to you now. It was the era of emails where the virtual world seemed to transcend the boundaries of reality, and the inbox was akin to a bottomless pit of communication. In the midst of this digital deluge, there existed a peculiar figure named Sam. Sam wasn't just any ordinary office worker. He was the master of inbox ignorance. In the heart of a bustling city, nestled in a high-rise office building, Sam sat as cluttered desk, surrounded by screens and devices buzzing incessantly, modifications. His inbox, a chaotic sea of unread messages, seemed to mock him with its endless scroll. Colleagues often marveled at Sam's ability to remain calm amidst the chaos. Below did they know his secrets, the arts of file and forget. One fateful Monday morning, as the emails poured in like a torrential rain. Sam decided to embark on his daily ritual. With a notchalant click, he selected all and hit the magical button labeled archive. Instantly, the onslaught disappeared from view. Tucked away in the digital abyss of his archived folder. His co-workers gasped in disbelief. "How does he do it?" they whispered amongst themselves. "Does he even read his emails?" But Sam remained unfazed. His expression serene as he sipped his morning coffee. For Sam knew the power of selective attention and a world overrun by information over load. Days turned into weeks and weeks into months. Yet Sam's inbox remained a monument to his indifference. Urgent memos, meeting requests, and pleased for assistance vanished into the void. Never to be seen again, and yet somehow the wheels of the office continued to turn oblivious to Sam's silent rebellion against the tyranny of email. One particularly harrowing day, as deadlines loomed and tensions ran high, Sam's co-workers gathered around his desk. Their faces etched with concern. "Sam, we need your help!" they implied, implored. "We can't find the Smith file anywhere. Have you seen it?" Sam glanced up from the screen as brow, throwing a new fusion Smith file. "I'm not sure. Let me check." With a few deft keystrokes, Sam never get it to his archive folder. His fingers dancing across the keyboard with practice ease. And there, buried beneath a mountain of forgotten emails lay the elusive Smith file, waiting to be resurrected from obscurity. His co-workers stared in awe as Sam retrieved the file. Their admiration mingled with a hint of envy for his unflappable demeanor, for in a world where every pang, enovocation, fied for attention, Sam had mastered the art of inbox ignorance, finding solace in the tranquility of digital oblivion. And so, as the day drew to a close in the office, emptied of its bustling inhabitants, Sam sat alone as desks surrounded by the quiet hum of his devices. With a satisfied smile, he leaned back in his chair, content in the knowledge that in the chaos of the modern world, sometimes the greatest power lies in knowing what to ignore. That is inbox ignorance by Chet GPT. And no, I did not order 36 copies of Grandma was a nudist. So that will do it for season seven of this podcast is on call for. And glad I'm still doing glad I have some help with this. And I'm really looking forward to doing a fringe in the summer of 2020, 2024. And yeah, let's keep the thing moving. This podcast is uncalled for, it's also produced and edited by myself, Mike Chernebsky. Opening music is Iron Bacon by Kevin McLeod and in Computech.com, licensed under Creative Commons by attribution 4.0 license. Our actual music as per our tradition, thanks to Hanson and Brandon for bringing us to my attention. Open Door by Lilla Glassman, licensed under Creative Commons or attribution license. And you can find this at free music archive.org. And we'll see you in season eight. If you are in the United States or Canada, you can call us at 816-832-5160. Leave your message or question for us. And if we like it, we will play it on the podcast. Please support the podcast and purchase our exclusive uncalled for merchandise. T-shirts, sweatshirts, mugs, stickers, and so much more. Go to www.cafepress.com/uncalledforbod. Thank you so much for listening. We will see you next time. [Music] [Music] [Music] [Music] [Music] [BLANK_AUDIO]