Try to imagine artifical intelligence as a trope that takes over your native, and instinctual raw IQ. However, the individual soon loses the will to make decisions of his or her own; that person is a nobody, an anome, a stranger in a world of keeping up with the Jones', and that person is soon addicted to commercials, to the shopping network; soon the greed-toxin becomes a follower of shp until you drop. Or, he or she is a character in a classic, a little people's pleaser, a pleasant- enough chap, a liitle James Joyce pleasant, boyish Schmiel, a little cloud, a boring putz and nebbish, a hen-pecked Thurber who daydreams of adveture to come. Chandler doesn't dare to eat a peach like J. Alford Prurock in T.S. Eliot's poem. The Don Delillo fall Victim to Christmass cheer, and De Chant treats the holidays, like a mantra that reminds everyone that he or she creates one's sole soul identty in Clothes Make the person.
