Turing’s Imitation Test of what it means to be Human

Arlene Martel

Arlene Martel

"Come back and buy this town!"

“Come back and buy this town!”

The problem I have is with the simplifications.  What if reality is more complex?  Being human led me to a minimal, not a maximal answer.  Why be human?  Because of the hidden assumption that being human is pretty good, computers so down on that his old lady think…

“Focus on having Jesus as your real husband,” said a faggot on television.  I was staring at the growth on his face; it was a microphone but it glued my li’l Voodoo Child focus.  I went off to be one, and half.  Yes, I basically am an anarchist.  Anarchy is whereat I am way inside.

Guitar, take me from this, loneson town much.  If that is all, do you not have any more, baby?  You know I get high.  You do not have to whisper to  me behind the rubber plant.


As long as we are on the subject, it is the fact not anyone need act rationally except to follow a few simple rules which may result in the fact not anyone exotic exists.  Writer’s exotic makes up in awesome what it lacks in possibility this could pull this absolute crime.

3 Responses to “Turing’s Imitation Test of what it means to be Human”

  1. sbillinghurst Says:

    Uncle Jodie Foster Ship, I smoke the herb. In burning it, I gain intelligence, ahh. From the melt it comes, then it rains now, as long as I am dead, I’ll be in your area when the shocker-disk itself will be there. Potentially, do not thwang on me. The zombie is the space, no. Now what happened to me? No, and thanks for understanding two used me, I said “now” twice. It doesn’t put it on a 3 x 5, it began to pay out colored yarn foot-segments from whatever, a spool. And ah, you? PRIMA: well, you? SECUNDA: The human who is it may take small comfort in any such thing as “few”, or a “short time”, in pain. Unrecorded, secret torture, not burying the body, at least destroys the ignorance. We can claim that pain would be a typographical error. In the old days of Paint, light users exceeded the speed of the rest of us in our boyfriend’s ink-pen. I’m Kabuki-generous, if that’s generous, positively please tack on an adjective, “plus”, and exponentiate it.

    The unknown Mary-Head fucks its own son in the afternoon.

    2 call what you did ugly.

  2. sbillinghurst Says:

    Finally, Judy Garland the clown dance. There’s a delusion among people that puts by, saves up, the putting-by idea that if there is a God, he’ll do business with you. The myths we expect are that a trait should be visible in a race of people, you know, three comes and its “plea, plead, pleat”, Roman toga and cape, olive leaves, deodorant. No, I spell I, I am a blowhard, that’s not the trail of shine, though. I have the Tourrette’s Tourette’s, there’s a graph for how tempermental. One of the purest human categories is people who have already lived. To go over there as Jor, wouldn’t it be combining as liquid physically impossible was to physically impossibly alive, etc? Ponder fond.

  3. sbillinghurst Says:

    To everything, what aboard a 2-computer Northwest, a 4-compter can fork with its already names, eg TURNED
    TINE #
    ALREADY **
    AREDY **
    ARDY ** D
    ARD ** ED
    AR ** NED
    A ** INED
    ** TINED
    Does a differentiable attack unsuspectable such that time of attack and the resource allocated to buy time are the toroid. Or, suffering from forks needs no explanation. To superhumans it does. All of you numbers are shipping letters tomorrow, starting with whole alphabets and your corruption.

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