by Charles Bukowski

"What?" they say, "you got a

computer?"

It's like I have sold out to

the enemy.

I had no idea so many

people were prejudiced

against

computers.

Even two editors have

written me letters about

the computer.

One disparaged the

computer in a mild and

superior way.

The other seemed

genuinely pissed.

I am aware that a

computer can't create a poem.

But neither can a typewriter.

Yet, still, once or twice a week

I hear: "what?

You have a computer?

You?"

Yes, I do

and I sit up here

almost every night,

sometimes with

beer or wine,

sometimes without

and I work the computer.

The damn thing even

corrects my spelling.

And the poems come flying out,

better than ever.

I have no

idea what causes all this

computer prejudice.

Me?

I want to go the next step

beyond the computer.

I'm sure it's there.

And when I get it,

they'll say,

"hey, you hear,

Chinaski got a space-biter!"

"What?"

"Yes, it's true!"

"I can't believe it!"

And I'll also have

some beer or some wine

or maybe nothing at all

and I'll be 85 years old

driving it home to you and me

and to the little girl

who lost her sheep.

Or her computer.

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=5736269&forum_id=2\u0026mark_id=5310486#49005974)

self-styled "intellectuals" who pretend like they're above the AI revolution are so cringe

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=5736269&forum_id=2\u0026mark_id=5310486#49009358)