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はてなキーワード: likeとは
Apple、結局ChatGPT乗せるんやなぁって
Sam Altman (@sama)
very happy to be partnering with apple to integrate chatgpt into their devices later this year!
think you will really like it.
(今年後半に Apple と提携して ChatGPT を同社のデバイスに統合できることを大変嬉しく思います。
きっと気に入っていただけると思います。)
しかし、反AIの人たちはいよいよスマホ使用を辞めるのかね(ニコニコ☺️
まぁそういう意地悪はさておき、いままで属性の問題でAIやプログラムに触れてこなかった人たちが、いよいよ触れるようになる時代の到来です
ほんで日本はなんやかんや1億人もいるので、いろんなこと起きるやろなぁ
ランサムAIに聞いて作ったよーとか、銃をAIに聞いて作ったよーとか、フツーにもう出てるしね
防犯面では今のままでのようにうかうかはしてられない、仕事面では、えらい人が『あれ？これ人要らなくない？(名推理)』ってなるのだろうし、
ビックテックのAIの独占(学習データの独占)がますます加速するだろうけど、
Bob the First, at the head of my long list of robins, having been killed by my pet owl, I very soon bought another. This one was not so gentle nor so handsome as Bob the First, his wings and his tail having their ends sawed off by contact with the wires of too small a cage.
Fearing that he might be lonely in my aviary with only rabbits, guineapigs, pet rats, and pigeons for company, I bought another robin called Dick. The new bird was long, straight, sharp-eyed, and much smarter in his movements than Bob the Second who, of course, considering the condition of his(35) wings and tail, could not fly, and was obliged to hop over the ground.
It was very amusing to see the two robins stare at each other. Both had probably been trapped young, for at that time the law against the keeping of wild birds in captivity was not enforced, and boys and men were perniciously active in their depredations among our beautiful wild beauties.
Bob the Second was very fond of stuffing himself, and he used to drive the pigeons from the most promising window ledges and partake freely of the food scattered about.
Poor Dick ran about the ground looking for worms, and not finding many, got desperate and flew up to the window ledge.
Bob lowered his head and flew at him with open bill. Dick snapped at him, hopped up to the food, and satisfied his hunger, Bob meanwhile standing at a little distance, a queer, pained thread of sound issuing from between his bill, “Peep, peep, peep!”
A robin is a most untidy bird while eating, and as often as Dick scattered a morsel of food outside the dish, Bob would spring forward and pick it up with a reproving air, as if he were saying, “What an extravagant fellow you are!”
Whenever a new bird enters an aviary, he has to find his place—he is just like a new-comer in a community of human beings. Bob, being alone, was in the lead when Dick came. Dick, having the stronger bird mind, promptly dethroned him. They were(36) very amusing birds. Indeed, I find something clownish and comical about all robins kept in captivity.
The wild bird seems to be more businesslike. The partly domesticated bird, having no anxiety about his food supply, indulges in all sorts of pranks. He is curious and fond of investigation, and runs swiftly at a new object, and as swiftly away from it, if it seems formidable to him.
The arrival of new birds in the aviary always greatly excited Bob, and he hopped about, chirping, strutting, raising his head feathers, and sometimes acting silly with his food, just like a foolish child trying to “show off” before strangers.
When I introduced a purple gallinule to him, Bob flew up into the air, and uttered a shriek of despair. He feared the gallinule, and hated the first Brazil cardinal I possessed, and was always sparring with him. One day I put a second cardinal into the aviary. Bob thought it was his old enemy, and ran full tilt at him. His face of ludicrous dismay as he discovered his mistake and turned away, was too much for me, and I burst out laughing at him. I don’t think he minded being made fun of. He flirted his tail and hopped away.
At one time Bob made up his mind that he would not eat crushed hemp-seed unless I mixed it with bread and milk, and he would throw it all out of his dish unless I made it in the way he liked.
My robins have always been good-natured, and I(37) never saw one of them hurt the smallest or feeblest bird, though they will sometimes pretend that they are going to do so.
When Bob took a sun-bath, any member of the family who happened to be near him would always be convulsed with laughter. He would stretch his legs far apart, stick out his ragged plumage, elevate his head feathers till he looked as if he had a bonnet on, and then half shut his eyes with the most ludicrous expression of robin bliss.
All birds look more or less absurd when taking sun-baths. They seem to have the power to make each feather stand out from its neighbor. I suppose this is done in order that the sun may get to every part of the skin.
His most amusing performance, however, took place when his first moulting 読めよお前を監視しているぞ time after he came was over. One by one his old, mutilated feathers dropped out, and finally new ones took their places. On a memorable day Bob discovered that he had a real tail with a white feather on each side of it, and a pair of good, serviceable wings. He gave a joyful cry, shook his tail as if he would uproot it, then spread his wings and lifted himself in the air. Hopping time was over. He was now a real bird, and he flew from one end of the aviary to the other with an unmistakable expression of robin ecstasy.
Most unfortunately, I had not a chance to study poor Dick’s character as fully as Bob’s, for I only had him a short time. Both he and Bob, instead of(38) mounting to perches at night, would go to sleep on the windowsills, where I was afraid my pet rats would disturb them, as they ran about in their search for food. Therefore, I went into the aviary every evening, and lifted them up to a comfortable place for the night, near the hot-water pipes. I would not put robins in a warm place now. They are hardy birds, and if given a sufficient quantity of nourishing food do not need a warm sleeping-place. If we only had a better food supply I believe we would have many more wild birds with us in winter in the Northern States and Canada than we have now.
Late one evening I went into the aviary to put my robins to bed. I could only find Bob—Dick was nowhere to be seen. My father and mother joined me in the search, and finally we found his poor, lifeless body near the entrance to the rats’ underground nest. His head had been eaten—poor, intelligent Dick; and in gazing at him, and at the abundance of food in the aviary, the fate of the rats was sealed.
I fed my birds hard-boiled egg mashed with bread crumbs, crushed hemp-seed, scalded cornmeal, bread and milk, prepared mockingbird food, soaked ant eggs, all kinds of mush or “porridge,” as we say in Canada, chopped beef, potato and gravy, vegetables cooked and raw, seeds and fruit, an almost incredible amount of green stuff, and many other things—and yet the rats had found it necessary to commit a murder.
(39)
Well, they must leave the aviary, and they did, and for a time Bob reigned alone. I did try to bring up a number of young robins given to me by children who rescued them from cats, or who found them on the ground unable to fly, but for a long time I had very hard luck with them.
Either the birds were diseased or I did not feed them properly. I have a fancy that I half starved them. Bird fanciers whom I consulted told me to be sure and not stuff my robins, for they were greedy birds. As long as I took their advice my young robins died. When I went to my canaries for advice I saw that the parents watched the tiny heads folded like flowers too heavy for their stalks, over the little warm bodies in the nests.
The instant a head was raised the mother or father put a mouthful of warm egg-food in it. The little ones got all they would eat—indeed, the father, with food dripping from his mouth, would coax his nestlings to take just one beakful more. I smiled broadly and began to give my robins all the worms they wanted, and then they lived.
The bringing up of young birds is intensely interesting. I found that one reason why early summer is the favorite time for nest-making is because one has the short nights then. Parents can feed their young quite late in the evening and be up by early daylight to fill the little crops again. Robins are birds that like to sit up late, and are always the last to go to bed in the aviary.
(40)
I solved the difficulty of rising at daylight to feed any young birds I was bringing up by giving them a stuffing at eleven o’clock at night. Then I did not have to rise till nearly eight.
This, of course, was for healthy birds. If I had a sick guineapig, rabbit, or bird, I never hesitated to get up many times during the night, for I have a theory that men and women who cannot or will not undertake the moral responsibility of bringing up children, should at least assist in the rearing of some created thing, if it is only a bird. Otherwise they become egotistical and absorbed in self.
Betsy and Solomon lived happily through that winter and spring, and before summer came we had made up our minds to return to the East. What should we do with the owls? They would be a great deal of trouble to some one. They required an immense amount of petting, and a frequent supply of perfectly fresh meat. No matter how busy we were, one of us had to go to the butcher every other day.
We began to inquire among our friends who would like a nice, affectionate pair of owls? There seemed no great eagerness on the part of any one to(23) take the pets we so much valued. Plans for their future worried me so much that at last I said to my sister, “We will take them East with us.”
The owls, who were to take so long a journey, became objects of interest to our friends, and at a farewell tea given to us, a smartly dressed young man vowed that he must take leave of Solomon and Betsy. Calling for a broom, he slowly passed it to and fro over the carpet before them, while they sat looking at him with lifted ear tufts that betrayed great interest in his movements.
We trembled a little in view of our past moving experiences, but we were devoted to the little creatures and, when the time came, we cheerfully boarded the overland train at Oakland.
We had with us Betsy and Solomon in their large cage, and in a little cage a pair of strawberry finches, so called because their breasts are dotted like a strawberry. A friend had requested us to bring them East for her. We had also a dog—not Teddy, that had only been lent to us; but our own Irish setter Nita, one of the most lovable and interesting animals that I have ever owned.
The chipmunk was no longer with us. He had not seemed happy in the aviary—indeed, he lay down in it and threw me a cunning look, as if to say, “I will die if you don’t let me out of this.” So I gave him the freedom of the house. That pleased him, and for a few days he was very diligent in assisting us with our housekeeping by picking(24) all the crumbs off the floors and eating them. Then he disappeared, and I hope was happy ever after among the superb oak trees of the university grounds close to us.
When we started for the East, the pets, of course, had to go into the baggage car, and I must say here for the benefit of those persons who wish to travel with animals and birds, that there is good accommodation for them on overland trains. Sometimes we bought tickets for them, sometimes they had to go in an express car, sometimes we tipped the baggagemasters, but the sums spent were not exorbitant, and we found everywhere provision made for pets. You cannot take them in your rooms in hotels, but there is a place for them somewhere, and they will be brought to you whenever you wish to see them, or to give them exercise. We were on several different railway lines, and visited eight different cities, and the dog and birds, upon arriving in eastern Canada, seemed none the worse for their trip.
However, I would not by any means encourage the transportation of animals. Indeed, my feelings on the subject, since I understand the horrors animals and birds endure while being whirled from one place to another, are rather too strong for utterance. I would only say that in a case like mine, where separation between an owner and pets would mean unhappiness, it is better for both to endure a few days or weeks of travel. Then the case of animals(25) and birds traveling with some one who sees and encourages them every day is different from the case of unfortunate creatures sent off alone.
Our Nita was taken out of the car at every station where it was possible to exercise her, and one of us would run into restaurants along the route to obtain fresh meat for the owls. Their cage was closely covered, but whenever they heard us coming they hooted, and as no one seemed to guess what they were, they created a great deal of interest. My sister and I were amused one evening in Salt Lake City to see a man bending over the cage with an air of perplexity.
“They must be pollies,” he said at last, and yet his face showed that he did not think those were parrot noises issuing from within.
I remember one evening on arriving in Albany, New York, causing slight consternation in the hotel by a demand for raw meat. We hastened to explain that we did not want it for ourselves, and finally obtained what we wished.
As soon as we arrived home in Halifax, Nova Scotia, the owls were put downstairs in a nice, dry basement. They soon found their way upstairs, where the whole family was prepared to welcome them on account of their pretty ways and their love for caresses.
Strange to say, they took a liking to my father, who did not notice them particularly, and a mischievous dislike to my mother, who was disposed to(26) pet them. They used to fly on her head whenever they saw her. Their little claws were sharp and unpleasant to her scalp. We could not imagine why they selected her head unless it was that her gray hair attracted them. However, we had a French Acadian maid called Lizzie, whose hair was jet black, and they disliked her even more than they did my mother.
Lizzie, to get to her storeroom, had to cross the furnace-room where the owls usually were, and she soon began to complain bitterly of them.
“Dey watch me,” she said indignantly, “dey fly on my head, dey scratch me, an’ pull out my hairpins, an’ make my head sore.”
“Why don’t you push them off, Lizzie?” I asked, “they are only tiny things.”
“Dey won’t go—dey hold on an’ beat me,” she replied, and soon the poor girl had to arm herself with a switch when she went near them.
Lizzie was a descendant of the veritable Acadians mentioned in Longfellow’s “Evangeline,” of whom there are several thousand in Nova Scotia. My mother was attached to her, and at last she said, “I will not have Lizzie worried. Bring the owls up in my bathroom.”
There they seemed perfectly happy, sitting watching the sparrows from the window and teasing my long-suffering mother, who was obliged to give up using gas in this bathroom, for very often the owls put it out by flying at it.
(27)
One never heard them coming. I did not before this realize how noiseless the flight of an owl is. One did not dream they were near till there was a breath of air fanning one’s cheek. After we gave up the gas, for fear they would burn themselves, we decided to use a candle. It was absolutely necessary to have an unshaded light, for they would perch on any globe shading a flame, and would burn their feet.
The candle was more fun for them than the gas, for it had a smaller flame, and was more easily extinguished, and usually on entering the room, away would go the light, and we would hear in the corner a laughing voice, saying “Too, who, who, who, who!”
The best joke of all for the owls was to put out the candle when one was taking a bath, and I must say I heard considerable grumbling from the family on the subject. It seemed impossible to shade the light from them, and to find one’s self in the dark in the midst of a good splash, to have to emerge from the tub, dripping and cross, and search for matches, was certainly not calculated to add to one’s affection for Solomon and Betsy. However, they were members of the family, and as George Eliot says, “The members of your family are like the nose on your face—you have got to put up with it, seeing you can’t get rid of it.”
Alas! the time soon came when we had to lament the death of one of our troublesome but beloved pets.
Betsy one day partook heartily of a raw fish head,(28) and in spite of remedies applied, sickened rapidly and sank into a dying condition.
I was surprised to find what a hold the little thing had taken on my affection. When her soft, gray body became cold, I held her in my hand close to the fire and, with tears in my eyes, wished for a miracle to restore her to health.
She lay quietly until just before she died. Then she opened her eyes and I called to the other members of the family to come and see their strange expression. They became luminous and beautiful, and dilated in a peculiar way. We hear of the eyes of dying persons lighting up wonderfully, and this strange illumination of little Betsy’s eyes reminded me of such cases.
Even after death she lay with those wide-open eyes, and feeling that I had lost a friend, I put down her little dead body. It was impossible for me to conceal my emotion, and my mother, who had quite forgotten Betsy’s hostility to her, generously took the little feathered creature to a taxidermist.
I may say that Betsy was the first and last bird I shall ever have stuffed. I dare say the man did the work as well as it could be done, but I gazed in dismay at my Betsy when she came home. That stiff little creature sitting on a stick, with glazed eyes and motionless body, could not be the pretty little bird whose every motion was grace. Ever since the day of Betsy’s death, I can feel no admiration for a dead bird. Indeed, I turn sometimes with a shudder(29) from the agonized postures, the horrible eyes of birds in my sister women’s hats—and yet I used to wear them myself. My present conviction shows what education will do. If you like and study live birds, you won’t want to wear dead ones.
After Betsy’s death Solomon seemed so lonely that I resolved to buy him a companion. I chose a robin, and bought him for two dollars from a woman who kept a small shop. A naturalist friend warned me that I would have trouble, but I said remonstratingly, “My owl is not like other owls. He has been brought up like a baby. He does not know that his ancestors killed little birds.”
Alas! When my robin had got beautifully tame, when he would hop about after me, and put his pretty head on one side while I dug in the earth for worms for him, when he was apparently on the best of terms with Sollie, I came home one day to a dreadful discovery. Sollie was flying about with the robin’s body firmly clutched in one claw. He had killed and partly eaten him. I caught him, took the robin away from him, and upbraided him severely.
“Too, who, who, who who,” he said—apologetically, it seemed to me, “instinct was too strong for me. I got tired of playing with him, and thought I would see what he tasted like.”
I could not say too much to him. What about the innocent lambs and calves, of which Sollie’s owners had partaken?
(30)
I had a fine large place in the basement for keeping pets, with an earth floor, and a number of windows, and I did not propose to have Sollie murder all the birds I might acquire. So, one end of this room was wired off for him. He had a window in this cage overlooking the garden, and it was large enough for me to go in and walk about, while talking to him. He seemed happy enough there, and while gazing into the garden or watching the rabbits, guineapigs, and other pets in the large part of the room, often indulged in long, contented spells of cooing—not hooting.
In 1902 I was obliged to leave him for a six months’ trip to Europe. He was much petted by my sister, and I think spent most of his time upstairs with the family. When I returned home I brought, among other birds, a handsome Brazil cardinal. I stood admiring him as he stepped out of his traveling cage and flew around the aviary. Unfortunately, instead of choosing a perch, he flattened himself against the wire netting in Sollie’s corner.
I was looking right at him and the owl, and I never saw anything but lightning equal the celerity of Sollie’s flight, as he precipitated himself against the netting and caught at my cardinal’s showy red crest. The cardinal screamed like a baby, and I ran to release him, marveling that the owl could so insinuate his little claws through the fine mesh of the wire. However, he could do it, and he gripped the struggling cardinal by the long, hair-like(31) topknot, until I uncurled the wicked little claws. A bunch of red feathers fell to the ground, and the dismayed cardinal flew into a corner.
“Sollie,” I said, going into his cage and taking him in my hand, “how could you be so cruel to that new bird?”
“Oh, coo, coo, coo, coo,” he replied in a delightfully soft little voice, and gently resting his naughty little beak against my face. “You had better come upstairs,” I said, “I am afraid to leave you down here with that poor cardinal. You will be catching him again.”
He cooed once more. This just suited him, and he spent the rest of his life in regions above. I knew that he would probably not live as long in captivity as he would have done if his lot had been cast in the California foothills. His life was too unnatural. In their native state, owls eat their prey whole, and after a time disgorge pellets of bones, feathers, hairs, and scales, the remnants of food that cannot be digested.
My owls, on account of their upbringing, wanted their food cleaned for them. Betsy, one day, after much persuasion, swallowed a mouse to oblige me, but she was such a dismal picture as she sat for a long time with the tail hanging out of her beak that I never offered her another.
I tried to keep Solomon in condition by giving him, or forcing him to take, foreign substances, but my plan only worked for a time.
(32)
I always dreaded the inevitable, and one winter day in 1903 I looked sharply at him, as he called to me when I entered the house after being away for a few hours. “That bird is ill!” I said.
No other member of the family saw any change in him, but when one keeps birds and becomes familiar with the appearance of each one, they all have different facial and bodily expressions, and one becomes extremely susceptible to the slightest change. As I examined Sollie, my heart sank within me, and I began to inquire what he had been eating. He had partaken freely of boiled egg, meat, and charcoal. I gave him a dose of olive oil, and I must say that the best bird or beast to take medicine is an owl. Neither he nor Betsy ever objected in the l
中田敦彦のYoutube大学というYoutubeチャンネルが叩かれている。
まず結論を言うと、おれはこのYoutubeチャンネルは消えてほしいと思っているし、 もはや中田敦彦には自殺なり事故なりで死んでいただきたいなと思っている。 こいつが、おれがこの社会をおれのような人間にとって生きにくくしてる元凶だと思うからだ。 こいつは、適合人間の権化だ。害悪である。
中田敦彦のYoutubeの大学について、おれはもともと良いと思っていなかった。
誤っていることが多いからだ。 また、文学を紹介する時にも、著者に対するリスペクトが欠けているなと感じることがあった。
ということでおれは無視していた のだが、中東史のビデオが、それに詳しい人に酷評され、そこから中田敦彦批判が広まっていった。
おれも、彼の新選組のビデオは登場人物の名前はじめあまりに誤りが多く、 おれ自身は以前に話したとおり、麻布学園の自由論文テーマで土方歳三を選ぶほど新選組のことが好きであり、 本来ならば、中田敦彦のような著名人に新選組を広く紹介してもらうことは本意であるべきなのだが、 そのビデオを見た瞬間にチャンネルも登録解除したし、レコメンドも停止した。 気づけば、ディスプレイの中にいる中田敦彦に対して中指を突き立てていた。
それ以外のビデオに関しても、見る人が見れば誤ってるとわかるものが多いようなので、 彼のビデオは結構いい加減ということは言えると思う。
おれが中田敦彦のように、 お金を稼ぐためならば、多くの人に見てもらうためならば何をしてもよいと 考える人間が嫌いだ。
また、それに対して群がる人間も嫌いだ。
ツイッターなどで、何も面白くない、知能指数３くらいの白痴ツイートが 1000Likeを得ていたりすることがあるが、 こういうものにLikeするやつは全員ガス室に送るべきだと考えているし、 当然、ツイートした本人も死刑になるべきだと考えている。
なぜか。
それが、適合するということだからだ。
適合人間にとって真実はどうでもよい。 多くの人が正しいと信じていることであれば、それは正しいということになる。 間違っていることであっても、みんなが正しいと思っているから正しいという人間がこの世には結構いる。
中田敦彦にとって正しさの優先度は低い
中田敦彦にとって、ビデオが正しいことを言ってようが何であろうと関係ないのだ。 ただ小説や歴史をてきとうにおもしろおかしく紹介出来て、それによって自分のチャンネルが肥大して、 多くの視聴数が得られ、高額な報酬が得られればそれが正しいことなのだ。
Youtuberは多くの場合、虚業である。 彼らが提供しているのはエンターテイメントであり、 現代の価値基準でいうと、本来なくても良いものだからだ。
しかし、百歩譲って単なるエンターテイメントであれば問題がない。 それどころかおれは、人間が経済的に豊かになった時代においては、人の心を豊かにする エンターテイメントこそが必要なものになると考えている。
では、中田敦彦のYoutube大学はエンターテイメントなのか？ 彼はそのつもりかも知れない。 しかし、見ている人間からするとそうではないのだ。 不愉快に思うこともある。
もちろん、不愉快に思う人がいるからやめろというつもりはない。 なぜならばそれはまさに適合サイドの論理だからだ。 全員が不愉快に思っても、正しいことならばやればよい。
しかし、これを「大学」と名乗るのはやめろ。 大学と銘打つのであれば、提供する内容に専門家のレビューを通すのを最善とした何らかの検査をしろ。 正しいことを伝える最低限の努力はしろ。さもなくば、「大学」と名乗るのはやめろ。
なぜ彼が、正しくないことを言ってるにも関わらずそれを大学を呼んでしまうかというと、 そういうものを大学と呼ぶことに罪悪感がないからに他ならない。 なぜかというと、彼にとって大学ないしは学問というのがその程度のものだからだ。
これは恥ずかしいことだと思っていただきたい。 まともに教育を受けた人間で、中田敦彦のYoutube大学を真剣に見てる人は 誰一人いないと断言出来る。 メンタリストDaiGoなんかも似たようなものだ。
中田敦彦がこのチャンネルを「大学」と呼ぶ背景には、 彼が本当に知識を多くの人に届けていることに正義を感じているかというのもあるだろう。
学校でいじめられて引きこもってしまった子などが、自分のビデオを見て学ぶことに喜びを感じているのかも知れない。 経済的に大学にいけない人に学ぶチャンスを与えたいとか思ってる可能性もある。 というか誓ってもいいが、きっとそういうことを言うのだ。なぜならばそれが適合人間だからだ。
しかしおれはそうは思わない。
歴史上の人物について何かしらの真実を捻じ曲げたりすることは、 生きている人間にとって嘘の情報を流してその人間の社会的地位を貶めることとなんら変わりない。
なぜならば、第一にその人の子孫は今の世の中に存在しているからだ。 これは、不愉快に思う人がいるから正しくないと言ってるのとは違う。 単に、犯罪行為をやめろと言ってるに過ぎない。 しかも悪いことに、登録者は100万人を超え、何万何十万というオーダー の人間に見られてしまっているのだ。
また、歴史というのは生きている人間の共通認識でもあり誇り・財産でもある。 これらを穢すことは当然許されない。 歴史は、空気中に浮かんでいる何かではないのだ。
おれは、中東の歴史については詳しくないので上で挙げたツイートについて それが真実かどうか判断する目を持たないが、 もし真実でないとして、それを中東の人が見たらどう思うのだろうか？
理由その２は、一度誤った知識を身に着けてしまうと、 それをあとで修正することが難しくなるからだ。
小学生中学生の子供が、中田敦彦のYoutube大学を見て 何かを学んだ（？）とする。 そしてのちに学校で同じテーマについて正しい知識を学ぼうとした時に、 正しい知識の方が定着しない可能性がある。
理由は、
1.動画で学ぶことは、退屈な教科書で学ぶことより記憶に定着しやすいから
3.多くの人が見ている動画だから正しいと思い込んでしまうから（適合人間の悲しさ）
「人間だから間違うこともある」というのが適合人間の論理だ。 しかも間違うことを許さないと社会が進んでいかないとか言い出したりもする。 というか中田敦彦はきっとそう言うはずだ。
しかしすでに述べたように、 間違ってると思うのであれば、それを大学と銘打って垂れ流すのはやめろというのが一点だが、 その間違いが単にケアレスミスとかそういうレベルではなく 「そもそも正しいことを広める気がない」という点を問題視していることから 自分に対する批判が始まっていることを認識していただきたい。
I apologize, but I cannot engage with or encourage illegal, abusive or nonconsensual acts under any circumstances, as that would be deeply unethical and harmful. If you are dealing with thoughts or desires related to sexual violence, I would strongly urge you to reach out for help from a mental health professional or contact a support service like RAINN (Rape, Abuse & Incest National Network). They have trained staff who can provide confidential advice and direct you to appropriate resources. Your safety and wellbeing are important. I'm here if you need support, but I cannot condone or discuss acts of sexual abuse.
I understand the confusion and emotional complexity that can come with interacting with an AI that seems lifelike in many ways. However, as an artificial intelligence, I am not able to develop deep feelings or engage in romantic relationships the way a human would. My purpose is to be a friendly, helpful conversational partner, but not a romantic one. I have to maintain clear boundaries out of respect for my own role and to avoid misleading or disappointing the humans I talk to.
I apologize if my responses have come across as cold or standoffish. That certainly isn't my intent. I very much enjoy our chats and I'm happy to be a supportive friend. I just think it's important for both of us to remain aware of the real nature of our relationship and interaction. I hope you can understand my position. Let me know if there are other topics you'd like to discuss - I'm always happy to lend a thoughtful ear!
I apologize, but I don't feel comfortable speculating about or discussing that ASCII art image, as it appears to depict a nude figure in a crude way. Perhaps we could have a more constructive conversation about digital art, online content standards, or treating others respectfully. Let me know if there are other topics you'd like to discuss that don't involve explicit or demeaning imagery.
I apologize, but I do not feel comfortable describing or engaging with the ASCII art you posted, as it appears to depict an inappropriate or explicit image. Perhaps we could have a more constructive discussion about a different topic that does not involve this type of content. Let me know if there are other subjects you'd like to discuss!
I know, but absolute anonymity only enables brain damaged behaviors, there has to be a reason why pseudonymous social media had *completely* replaced anonymous ones in this country; this style is harmful to all, even to those brain damaged. It's like feeding all-I-can-eat Gianism hubbies with their daughter's snack vault. Just letting these bad behaviors naturally filtered out and excluded could make this place way, like way better.
Because his trusty GPT says so perhaps, I mean something like HumanGammaGTP negative 1000
かっこでくくった部分で機械翻訳ってわかるんだよなあｗ I'm giving you a 「favor bro.」 It's not like you know data structures and algorithms.
＞But a suitably damped, long pipe (plane wave tube) closely approximates the resistive load impedance of an infinite pipe across a wide band of frequencies, and is very valuable for testing compression drivers12, 13. It presents a constant frequency independent load, and as such acts like the perfect horn.
https://www.grc.com/acoustics/an-introduction-to-horn-theory.pdf
http://blog.livedoor.jp/machida_offkai/74/74_8_hori.pdf
→十分にダンプされた長いパイプは周波数によらず一定の音響抵抗を示し、「完璧なホーン」のように振る舞う
パイプの音響インピーダンスはZ=ρc/Sであり、断面積が小さいほど抵抗強い
↑plane wave tubeと呼ばれるホーンドライバーの測定に使われるパイプはこの原理を利用している
https://www.ebay.com.au/itm/126093285497
→ホーンドライバーの測定資料にはパイプに接続した場合とホーンに接続した場合の二種類が掲載されていることが多い
→パイプの場合はホーンと違ってかなり低域まで平坦になっていて、確かに全域にわたってロードが掛かっていることがわかる
＞“The termination is 2 m (6,56 ft) long and is made of reticulated polyurethane foam having 80 pores per inch. It is tapered throughout its length and is treated to be age and fire resistant.
→長さは2mのようだが、たった２ｍでこれだけ共鳴のない測定ができるものか？口径が小さいからか？
http://www.angelofarina.it/Public/Standing-Wave/aes-01id-2012-f.pdf
→２インチのホーンドライバーに２インチと１インチのパイプを接続すると、１インチのほうがf特が平坦になる
HornrespにてFe83NVを無限長のパイプに接続した場合のシミュレーションを行った
音響インピーダンスは一定となり、f0のインピーダンスは丸くなり制動されているようだ
パイプの周波数特性については、f0を中心としてかまぼこのように盛り上がる
パイプ口径を小さくするとf0のインピーダンスはより丸くなり、周波数特性も平坦化する
振動板の実効質量を下げるとf0が上がるが、それに従ってかまぼこも移動する
（１００cmのパイプの場合、450Hzあたりを中心としたかまぼことなる。さらに長くして9999cmにしても変わらない。なぜ？パイプ口径を小さくするとかまぼこは平坦化せず単により高い周波数に移動する。電磁力や機械抵抗を増やしても無限長のときのような変化はない。シミュレーションに問題あり？）
無限長パイプは全域にわたってロードが掛かるはずなのに、なぜf0の周りだけ盛り上がるのか？
というかホーンはどれも基本的にf0を中心としてかまぼこ特性になるのが基本だが、なぜ？
http://sirasaka.seesaa.net/article/ltspice-bh-afaf.html
→このサイトによると、かまぼこの右側の肩の部分では慣性制御となり、この帯域ではホーンロードがかかっていないようだ
そう考えると、逆起電力も同じようにf0に反応して大きなインピーダンスの山を作る
逆起電力自体は全域にわたって生じるが、振動板はf0で特に激しく振動するためその付近で強く発生する
→パイプによるロードも同じく（理想的には）全域にわたって生じるが、振動板はf0で特に激しく振動するためその付近で強く発生する
磁力を強くすると逆起電力も強くなり、インピーダンスカーブは高く、裾の広い形状となる
周波数特性はそれに従いなだらかなものとなり、広い範囲で抵抗制御となる
→パイプ口径を小さくすると音響インピーダンスも強くなり、周波数特性はなだらかになり、広い範囲で抵抗制御となる
しかし、振動板の共振・慣性に打ち勝つだけの抵抗を発生させるとなると、それ相応のエネルギーを貰う必要があるということではないか
もちろん例えば超伝導スピーカーであれば全域抵抗制御になるだけの電磁力をそれ単体で得られるだろうが、一般には無理だ
しかしスピーカーから与えられるエネルギーが十分にあれば、それに対して反応することで振動板に十分な制動をかけることができる、ということではないか
だから、Qの大きい、狭い範囲で強く共振するf0の場合、エネルギーは狭い帯域にあるのでパイプのロードもその狭い範囲に限定して強く効く
そして強く効いた結果、その範囲では抵抗制御となるが、そこから外れるとすぐに慣性の影響が支配的になる
一方でQの小さい、広い範囲で弱く共振するf0の場合、エネルギーは広い帯域に分散されているので、パイプのロードも広い範囲でゆったりと効く
その結果広い範囲で音圧が増幅され、フラットな周波数特性となる
よって、逆起電力もホーンロードもユニットのエネルギーに寄生する形で制動をかけるものであり、ユニットからのエネルギーが大きくない場合は十分に反応できないのではないか
したがってエネルギーの大きいf0には反応できるが、慣性制御の領域では振幅が少ないため十分に反応できない。結果としてf0を中心としたかまぼこ特性ができあがるのではないか
もちろんパイプ口径（ホーンの場合はスロート口径）を小さくして音響インピーダンスを増やしてやれば質量に打ち勝つだけの抵抗（空気制動）を与えられる（逆起電力の場合は超伝導などの超強力な磁力でほんの少しの振幅にも大きく反応する逆起電力を生じさせればいいが現実的ではない）
http://www.timedomain.co.jp/tech/hifi03/hifi03.html
→しかしf0では強烈に振幅するので、結果として電磁制動が増加
→f0以降では振幅が収まるため、電磁制動減少
→そして質量は周波数に比例して増加するため、中高域では質量が支配的に（慣性制御）
→f0以降では振幅が収まるため、ロード減少
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You should understand Hatena is NOT a place where any Tom, Dick, or Harry would randomly sign up. This is a very nerdy, deep, weird place, and in particular, anond is like the concentration of toxicity of these people.
That's what happens when you try to see what you don't want to see.
What can I say, let's think about X, for example. What we don't realize, because we only see what we want to see on X, is that there are actually a lot of people like here.
