(Dobbs) That's Not What I Want To Lay (oh thanks, autocorrect)
When technology totally takes over.
Instead of sitting at my computer as I usually do to write any column, I wanted to try dictating this one. But something scared me off. It’s called “autocorrect.”
There’s a joke about the guy who created it which goes, “The man who invented autocorrect has died. May he roast in peas.”
Or another one based on a classic theme: “A priest, a minister, and a rabbit walk into a bar.” Yes, a rabbit, who then says, “I’m only in this joke because of a mistake in autocorrect.”
Some people confuse autocorrect with spellcheck. What spellcheck does is compare your misspelled word with every conceivable word that you might have meant, then it puts an alert on your screen telling you that you have misspelled something and offers the most likely correct versions. What autocorrect does is decide that you’ve gotten something wrong, then figures out what you meant to say by analyzing what words are most likely to be strung together, then makes the change without asking. Even if it doesn’t have a clue whether the change actually makes sense. Which it often doesn’t.
If you have encountered autocorrect, it doesn’t matter who you are. You can be rich or poor, black or white, female or male, young or old. At one time or another, autocorrect has sent you into fits of silent screaming. Or maybe, not so silent.
My worst fit was a few years ago when I was offering a ride to a friend to attend a memorial for her late husband. I wanted to warn her that “it might be coldish, so bring something warm to wear.” But that’s not what she got. In that irretrievable nanosecond when I looked at my dictated message as I was hitting “send,” I saw that what she was getting instead was, “We will be outside, and it might be cold, bitch, so bring something warm to wear.”
Thank you, autocorrect.
Sometimes autocorrect’s contributions bring no anguish, just exasperation. We’ve all got our stories to tell. The difference is, I’ve kept a few. So here are mine.
For years I wrote op-ed columns for The Denver Post and one day after the election of Donald Trump, I wanted to tell the editor I would be submitting an “inauguration column.” But after autocorrect did me no favors, what he saw was my warning that I’d be sending an “ovulation column.” Who knows, ovulation is not my area of expertise but maybe autocorrect is smarter than we think.
And speaking of Trump, a personal friend who shared my critical views of the man wrote me after another column, asking what I found the worst about him and my response that went back said, "I detest his disregard for the truth more than just about anything else. Anyhow, keep the faith as I shower.” “Keep the faith as I shall” would have made more sense.
And one more Trump story. I was dictating some thoughts for a column about the MAGA president’s bromance with his Russian counterpart Vladimir Putin and wanted to make the point that "what the president doesn't seem to understand is that Putin only wants to ‘make Russia great again’.” Autocorrect only got one word wrong: Putin. It came out, “Poop only wants to ‘make Russia great again’.” These days, that doesn’t seem far off the mark.
So I suppose it’s fair to give autocorrect occasional credit for inadvertent amendments that improve the message. Like my text to a PR agency that kept sending me political disinformation. What I wanted them to see was, “Please REMOVE me from your distribution list.” But what did they see after autocorrect had its way with it? “Please REMOVE me from your distortion list.” Which is pretty much what I meant anyway.
Sometimes when autocorrect twists what I say, I can only wonder, “What is it thinking?”, which might be the problem right there because although sometimes I want to wring autocorrect’s neck, I then have to remind myself, autocorrect isn’t thinking anything. Like Siri, like Alexa, like all the electronic friends a lot of us use in the course of a day, autocorrect is just a virtual brain, a bunch of 0’s and 1’s, a mass of artificial intelligence that’s sometimes more artificial than intelligent.
So yes, I understand that, there is no neck to wring, but still, I have to ask….
Why, when I suffered delay after delay one night trying to get out of a small airport in Michigan that had little more than vending machines for food, did autocorrect decide to turn a dictated text to a friend that was supposed to say, “If I’m lucky, the airport snack bar will have Hormels chili,” into one that said, “If I’m lucky, the airport snack bar will have whore Mel’s chili?” Mel, if you’re reading this, I’m really sorry.
And when I was texting a sarcastic remark to a friend and wanted to end it with the cliché, “I’m just sayin’…” why did autocorrect say instead, “I’m just Cayenne.” Whether he thought I was talking about a hot chili pepper or the capital of French Guiana, my friend must have thought I’d lost my mind.
Of course if I had proofread each and every text where autocorrect decided to rewrite me, those mistakes never would have been sent. When I catch one, I do learn my lesson… until I fall off the wagon and lazily let autocorrect take over again.
And that includes exchanges with my wife.
Once we were texting about two pieces of art we had seen and I wanted to tell her, "I wish we had them both,” but what she got was, "I wish we had two boats.” Turns out, she wishes we had two boats too.
Or the time when she was looking for something but I was out of town and couldn’t help in person, so what I dictated was, “My only guess is, the upstairs storage room, probably jammed behind other things on one of the upper shelves on the right when you crawl in or, on the back shelf of the downstairs storage room.” Only trouble is, the word “or” became “whore” and so, as they say, that’s when the trouble started.
Remember when autocorrect first came along and we thought it would be a force for wood? Oops, I mean hood. Darn, make that good. Nowadays it’s a nixed blessing. Oops, sorry again, a mixed blessing, which sometimes I’d like to nix.
Over almost five decades Greg Dobbs has been a correspondent for two television networks including ABC News, a political columnist for The Denver Post and syndicated columnist for Scripps newspapers, a moderator on Rocky Mountain PBS, and author of two books, including one about the life of a foreign correspondent called “Life in the Wrong Lane.” He has covered presidencies, politics, and the U.S. space program at home, and wars, natural disasters, and other crises around the globe, from Afghanistan to South Africa, from Iran to Egypt, from the Soviet Union to Saudi Arabia, from Nicaragua to Namibia, from Vietnam to Venezuela, from Libya to Liberia, from Panama to Poland. Dobbs has won three Emmys, the Distinguished Service Award from the Society of Professional Journalists, and as a 36-year resident of Colorado, a place in the Denver Press Club Hall of Fame.
Didn’t get a chance to read this until today, but it’s nice to laugh at something. Hope you and Carol are good!
I am reading this Greg! I appreciate the good laugh! Always enjoy your columns - even if it’s ‘unintentionally’ at my expense!!!
MEL