Surely, someone, somewhere, has used, or tried to use, a CNN to label
groups in a Go game 361-pixellation?

Q: what's the point of Go?
A: 361

(you would have thought someone else would have already thought of that one)

Minsky and Papert threw a spanner into the works of the NN Magi of the
day, but whose grandchildren are now basking in the reflected glow of
their triumphal triumphant  Man Who Would be King Apollo
Al(pha)exander who has conquered further far East than Kaffiristan -
Peace Be Upon Her prophet Kipling.

The spanner was that the MPs found out that Perceptrons were Baron
Munchausen Walter Mittys who couldn't see the hole in a doughnut,
which meant that although they could learn to out-Pong space invaders,
they would become lost in a Pacman maze.  As they did, as Dm hirelings
let slip out of the bag.

Later, or before, depending on how you look at it, Backpropagators
claimed to have overcome this clog in their Jaquard's Loom in a Simple
Twist of Fate by claiming that Minsky was ancient history just as he
had claimed that they would so become [1], and now the new religion of
Stratified Convolutionism is claiming columnar accession to the throne
of AI, after Marchly breaking the back of the monster Orwellian
Goldstein gold standard Enemy of the Statespace, so it's just a few
weeks left to the Singularity, say the homeopathic snake-oil homology
self-promotional entrepreneurial salesmen.

Sir Humphrey: "Everything is connected... who said that?"
Bernard: "The Cabinet Secretary?"
Sir H: "Nearly right; actually, it was Lenin"

Norman Mailer once ranted that critics should be shot, but The Prince
Vespasian Flavius was cunninger, seeing the wisdom of his
Machiavelli-of-the-day Josephus that rather than claim to be the Sun
incarnate (as had his predecessors and as would his son's successors)
and attempt ViViVi by enfilade brute force, he could rule over the
southern desert troublemakers more easily and cheaply by spin
propaganda alone, simply by pretending he and his son Titus were the
earthly allegory of the heavenly born-again Messiah they yearned for
and put into that character's mouth the platitude that they should
render unto Caesar what is Caesar's, and love their enemies rather
than stone them.

And it worked, for two thousand years, and is still going strong
despite a few seminal whacky  leaks, just as Monty Python's Black
Adder Baldrick C(u)NN(ing) Plan has created a Reich that will last a
thousand years and upon which the sun will never set, so let us parrot
Hymn Number google in the Good Bok of Not the Nine O-Clock News [2]
and that other one:

 "it (symbolic reasoning) is an ex-parrot; it has ceased to be.  Monty
is Great!  I avow that there is no Go but Monty.".

Apologies to those unfamiliar with the various historical allusions
that are variously common and uncommon knowledge among readers of A
History of the English-Speaking Peoples, to whom it will be somewhat
illusory without Googling the Gogglebox. which may cause the more
insecure among them to jump on the bandwagon of striking the first
blow and casting the first stone for the umpteenth time, anxious for
attention and the comfort blanket of communal hatred of any straw man
that stumbles across their blinkered monochrome landscape, so to
relieve the burden of thought, Sherpa the Sean suggests somewheres to
start:

1. http://www.webofstories.com/play/marvin.minsky/25

2. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kqilW8OpeGc

Only a Dostoyevskian Idiot-ic lone wolf apostate would dare leave the
quiet safety of the silent steppes to risk the monotonic ugly-mouthed
egg-throwing of self-righteous smug lion camp followers snug in their
schooled mutual hatred of anything or anyone with more melanin or a
different perspective than their straightjacket mindset.

The record's stuck, the record's stuck.
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