Do not fear the stone penis

Today, a Flickr bot proved that AI is in the process of telling us what artworks it’s okay to look at. The artwork is on public display, in a public place, overlooking a street on Gamla Stan. I have added a lot of art to my Flickr account and this is the first time I’ve received one of these:

I’ll add the actual photograph at the end of this post in order for anyone reading this post to prepare themselves for the danger.

It’s not the fact that the ‘photo safety level’ was changed – as if a photograph could hurt anyone – it was the fact that a bot has now become the arbiter of what is safe to look at. It rather proves the direction in which society is heading as prescribed by Yuval Noah Harari in his book 21 Lessons for the 21st Century. And it is truly scary.

Moving away from the more insidious reaches of the Internet, today I witnessed the final stage in the snow infrastructure in operation. Today was the day the grit was recycled.

I noticed, as I walked down to the bus stop this morning, that half the roads were wet. I don’t mean half of all the roads but, rather, one half of each road, divided down the middle. I thought this was odd but, then, didn’t really think anymore about it until I reached the roundabout.

Heading into the roundabout were two big yellow trucks. One was carrying a big tank of water. It had four nozzles at the back and it was this truck that was wetting the road. The second big yellow truck, however, was the amazing one.

The second truck was a big open backed, tip truck type affair. It was pulling a machine behind it that resembled a wood chipper, only a bit bigger. Underneath this wood chipper machine was a series of wire brushes, angled upwards. As they spun, the grit was forced upwards.

At the top of the wood chipper machine, grit was spitting out of the top of the chute where wood chips normally appear. The grit was then piled high in the back of the truck. Once full, the wood chipper machine would simply be attached to another, empty, truck.

In the meanwhilst, the full truck drove off to dump its load of recycled grit at a nearby, council run, grit bin. Though not the small green or orange plastic jobs you often see in the UK with GRIT written on them and generally full of inconsiderate litter. No, the grit bins here are quite big.

Then, finally, a vehicle with a massive, angled brush at the front, scrapes the roads completely clear. It’s an amazing operation, and I’m glad I saw all the separate bits this morning. I was even more glad when I walked back from the shops and the footpaths were completely free of grit.

After my fall and subsequent sprained ankle, I have been really careful when walking given the grit is like marbles under my useless feet. This return to slip free footpaths is terrific. More terrific, even, than dinner tonight.

For dinner, we had some traditional Swedish sausages. I bought them at the butcher. Asking her what they were, she said they were traditional Swedish sausages and very smokey. Given we’re now New Swedes, I figured we should try them.

Well, she wasn’t wrong about the smokiness. I have no idea what was in them (Mirinda opted for tomato along with the meat) but they were very strong.

I’m going to risk the wrath of some AI bot by including a photograph of the sausages.

Still, they were lovely served over a bed of cauli-broc mash and a Chez Gaz special fried onion and mushroom sauce.

And now for the moment that no-one has been waiting for. The offensive, very dangerous photograph that the AI bot decided to protect people from.

Actually, I guess it might be dangerous for people addicted to stone carvings. It could cause a relapse in someone who had managed to stay stone sober for a great length of time. To anyone in this position, please click away from this post now. Do not look at the photograph! I do not want to be responsible for your sudden lack of sobriety.

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