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Monday, October 29, 2001 |
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Becoming Aqua-tinted HUMOR by Drew Schulze I love artificial intelligence. The fact that computers can do far more creative things than merely multiply, divide, and download pornography fascinates me. It is amazing that human beings can effectively program computers to think and to reason – and to do it better than humans at times. See Kasparov vs. Deep Blue. The only thing more impressive than artificial intelligence is organic intelligence. Though these two intelligences are sometimes married to produce mindless hours of Snood and Sextris they are otherwise fairly distinct. If artificial intelligence explains why a computer might play a mathematically mean game of Battleship, organic intelligence then names that specific quality measured by any standardized test or daily crossword. If a computer can beat the greatest champion in the history of chess, human beings should at least be able to spell correctly. I have little trouble spelling correctly. However when I have mistyped or misspelled words in articles or papers my computer has consistently and immediately underlined them in red squiggles. Moreover, my computer proves subsequently helpful when it comes to matters of usage and syntax. The red squiggles return whenever I mistakenly repeat a word in a sentence. This is something I do do occasionally. When I finish I return to the markings to make any appropriate changes or to simply tell the computer to go to hell because 'monophony' really is a word. Enter Spell Check. For those of us who know how to spell, Spell Check is nothing more than a nuisance rivaled only by both Fran Drescher's voice and AOL Instant Messenger. While computers might make an occasional grammatical slip they are infallible spellers. An initial limitation of Spell Check arrives in that it draws directly from the computer's vocabulary, which is never as big as it should be. Therefore my computer decides to replace 'monophony' with 'monopoly'. When this happens the subject of my sentence changes from being a single melodic contour, to a board game involving real estate. Although the sentence gains a measure of poetic spice, it certainly doesn't make sense anymore. Unless Monopoly was some kind of secret hobby among the great composers. Spell Check was undoubtedly designed with more modest spellers in mind who have yet to embrace slightly sophisticated words like tonicization and monophony. In fact, Spell Check was specifically designed for scholars who are still sounding out words like 'carrot' and 'apple'. These scholars might encounter trouble when they misspell words that are a bit more cosmopolitan. I have seen some people spell 'acquainted' without the 'c'. When this happens, students invariably put their complete trust in Spell Check and its ability to figure out what the hell 'aquainted' means. Nevertheless, because Spell Check is so smart, it politely replaces the omitted letter, 't'. The revised sentence reads: "Shortly after his move, Frank became aqua-tinted with two attractive young women." I am jealous of Frank. I have never been 'aqua-tinted' with two attractive young women, though it sounds like an immensely pleasurable experience and one that I would like to try sometime. This example illustrates the largest problem concerning Spell Check. It only works if you already know how to spell. I am sure that Spell Check enthusiasts could have eavesdropped during school and caught someone explaining any number of the fundamental truths of spelling, but were presumably all too busy playing Snood to pay enough attention to commit them to memory. The numerous quirks of the English language are not an excuse for poor spelling. Proper spelling is a fundamental process. It is not a skill or talent. If humans believe it is their job to build computers that can correct spelling in their sleep, it also their job to figure out that there is a 'c' in 'acquainted,' and a doubled 'r' in 'carrot'. I take pride in being able to spell 'carrot'. Two ways. |
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