The Artificial Intelligence Factor

Objects for Hire...

(Milking the cow. )

I am guessing that it is a shovel?
Yes , No , Close
29. I guess that it is a snow shovel? No.
28. Do you use it in your home? Doubtful.
27. Is it straight? Maybe.
26. Is it human powered? Probably.
25. Does it require specific knowledge to use it? Doubtful.
24. Is it brown? Irrelevant.
23. Is it made of metal? Maybe.
22. Is it white? No.
21. Would you find it on a farm? Maybe.
20. I guess that it is an iron skillet? No.
19. Can any age group use it? Irrelevant.
18. Is it outside? Irrelevant.
17. I guess that it is a colander? No.
16. Is it colorful? No.
15. Does it burn? No.
14. Does it hold water? No.
13. Do you hold it when you use it? Yes.
12. Can you lift it? Yes.
11. Does it get wet? Yes.
10. Is it colorless? No.
9. Is it usually visible? Usually.
8. Is it round? Yes.
7. Can it change size? Yes.
6. Can it be easily moved? Irrelevant.
5. Could it be found in a classroom? No.
4. Does it bring joy to people? No.
3. Is it smaller than a loaf of bread? No.
2. Would you use it in the dark? No.
1. It is classified as Other.

(Someone here can try guess what my object is.) Knock yourself out.


You won!
Is it one of these ...
a rake (for leaves)
a wheel barrow a dumbbell (exercise weights)
a plunger (plumber's tool)
a spade (shovel)
a garden hose
a pitchfork
a lasso
a machete
a garden hoe
a hose a pot (cooking pot)
a garden fork
a rolling pin
a katana
a pizza cutter

Enter what you were thinking: “Self Esteem” (issues)

Personal longevity.
Satisfaction.
Self talk.

I was questioned on my thought.

…“Umbrella.”

If I’m not just an object, I’m a human being with feelings.

I’m not a robot.

I can say no without the worry.

I can measure the anxiety.

I can say the word ‘no’.

I can believe in myself concept.

I can maintain a positive self-image.

I can eliminate negative thoughts.

I can refute the ideas without coming across “perfect.”

I won’t step on someone else’s tail.

I can share my toys and play.

I can say ‘uncle’.

I can knock on wood.

“Mum’s” the word.

I beg to differ.

The dichotomy beneath the umbrella tree I love to eat fruit under.

I feel the warmth dried direly.

My apparent blame and self-loathing only disposition like a grape in the California Sun.