I remember standing outside dumbly, wondering why no one else was fleeing.
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I let my side down, by dumbly absorbing blows, instead of heaving back punishment.
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" In a late 1920s text, he recounted the moment: "The supposed zombies continued dumbly at work.
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The beermaker wants everyone to be focused on the live matches, not staring dumbly at their phones.
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Why do I stay and dumbly watch the commercials instead of getting up to finish washing the dishes?
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Dumbly put, it is as if a storm swept through the repetitive patterns we associate with Op Art, breaking the bands into shards.
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I waited dumbly, impatiently for the weight to come off, completely unschooled in the practice of losing weight without extremity: no starving, no purging.
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Or I'd reach down to tie her shoes and find myself staring dumbly at the laces, struggling to remember how, exactly, it was done.
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"I worry that we're stumbling dumbly into a surveillance state," Farhad Manjoo writes, noting efforts by Chicago, Detroit and other cities to adopt facial recognition systems.
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This is the kind of dance in which one company member after another has a little mad scene while everyone else stands around and watches dumbly.
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Throughout the week, I thought about the night Trump was elected, when my wife and I sat dumbly awake, wracked into the early hours of the morning.
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It's infinitely more peaceful to shop at those tiny, independent grocery stores, with their dumbly cute hand-written signs and cramped aisles and just two types of mayonnaise.
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That's why the president was provided with NASA-approved sunglasses to wear during the event, so he didn't have to burn his retinas by staring dumbly into the sun.
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I suppose I was being placated, too, though I don't recall any unreasonable behavior on my part, or any reasonable behavior, either—I felt I'd stood dumbly to one side, a helpless observer.
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But here it is: Video art, once dumbly condemned by traditionalists as a mass-media takeover of the fine art gallery, now offers more of an escape from the hellscape of our digital feeds than other artistic media.
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The "bomb on board" network is arguably the most obviously threatening of the bunch, and it's an example of how one asshole can ruin hundreds of people's travel plans by simply creating their own dumbly named Wi-Fi network.
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Each is a three-dimensional rendering of an image from some instructional YouTube video: A man speaking urgently into a microphone, a few dozen seated figures staring dumbly at the ceiling, two hands massaging the back of someone's head.
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He wandered past the rows of stanchions, letting a hand trail along them, the inner wooden yokes varnished smooth by the rub and push of countless bovine necks dumbly enduring the suck of the milker, reaching out for feed.
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He wandered past the rows of stanchions, letting a hand trail along them, the inner wooden yokes varnished smooth by the rub and push of countless bovine necks dumbly enduring the suck of the milker, reaching out for feed.
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The OpenAI developers let it out onto the map, and over the course of two weeks of intense self-training — which OpenAI claims amounted to "lifetimes" of practice time — the system went from walking dumbly to its death to becoming a cold-blooded killer.
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The legendarily irritating mascot-helper spent the following years hovering around the edges of documents, blinking dumbly under his lascivious eyebrows and blurting out, "It looks like you're writing a letter," until he was sidelined by the company in 2001, officially recognized as a mistake.
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Instead, they persist in believing that nonwhite voters (at least the ones who don't support them) have neither a mind of their own nor a genuine stake in democracy; that they would never take the volition to show up and represent their own interests, and instead dumbly vote the party line.
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As I died over and over, I would be treated anew to kill-cam footage showing just how long someone had me in their sights, how many shots they took before I even noticed, how I just stood there and sort of spun in place, dumbly looking around while my killer patiently picked me off.
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Worse, one morning when the S8's alarm clock woke me up ungodly early, I dumbly fumbled around for my phone and instead of waking the phone up to turn off my alarms, I pressed the Bixby button was presented with all the meetings I had planned for the day, as if Bixby's sole purpose was to remind me that my every waking hour will be toil and suffering.
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We drove for an hour between the airport and the city, and I found myself blinking dumbly as the familiar landscape stretched out around us: the mountains hazy in the distance, the wide freeways with grassy parks between them where you would inevitably find families picnicking — Iranians will take any stretch of grass as an opportunity for a picnic — and the hodgepodge of pale, mismatched buildings rising up as we entered the city.
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What I have emphasized, because I want to pass this so badly and it is my No. 1 priority, the first thing I do the minute I get there is get us into the international climate change agreement and then do the gas mileage standards and the clean power rules, that Obama had diligently worked on in his administration and then Trump dumbly pulled them back when the car companies were on board, on the gas mileage standards and a lot of the electric companies, including a major one based in part of Minnesota, Xcel [Energy], were more than happy to meet.
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In one episode she almost marries a man named Lyle, only to learn that "Lyle" is only his middle name and his first name is George. Her full name is Fay Evelyn Schlob Dumbly DeVay Cochran. Fay has a streak in which she has touched every First Lady of the United States since Eleanor Roosevelt.
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On 2 May 1953, Bunin left in his diary a note that proved to be his last one. "Still, this is so dumbfoundingly extraordinary. In a very short while there will be no more of me – and of all the things worldly, of all the affairs and destinies, from then on I will be unaware! And what I'm left to do here is dumbly try to consciously impose upon myself fear and amazement," he wrote.
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The story concerns two young bachelors taking separate skiing holidays at the same resort. Clive Morton (Nigel Patrick) and "Humpy" Miller (David Tomlinson) have nothing whatsoever in common—except for one thing: both men fall for the hotel proprietor's daughter Mary (Jill Day). As the story progresses, Clive (a debonair soldier and sportsman) gets quickly into his stride, whilst poor "Humpy" - a clumsy, incongruous fellow - looks on dumbly. However, "Humpy" has a secret weapon: Miss Cartwright (Kathleen Harrison) his former nanny who arrives just as the pair are quarantined in the hotel attic after contracting chicken pox.
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Keith Uhlich of Time Out called the film "pure, pleasurable comic-book absurdity", and noted that del Toro had lent the proceedings a "plausible humanity" lacking in most of summer 2013's destruction-heavy blockbusters. He said the Kaijus' civilian victims make a "palpably personal impression", deeming one scene with Mako Mori "as mythically moving as anything in the mecha anime, like Neon Genesis Evangelion, that the director emulates with expert aplomb." The Village Voices Stephanie Zacharek called it "summer entertainment with a pulse", praising its "dumbly brilliant" action and freedom from elitism, but noted the story is predictable and suggested del Toro's time would be better spent on more visionary films. Angela Watercutter of Wired called it the "most awesome movie of the summer", a "fist-pumping, awe-inspiring ride", and opined that its focus on spectacle rather than characterization "simply does not matter" in the summer blockbuster context.
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The lyrics to "Young Girls" follow the verse–pre-chorus–chorus pattern. It begins with the singer "dumbly" trying to get noticed by "these bright-eyed honeys", since he can't help to fall for their "dubious charms", despite "recognizing [the] sin while indulging in it". The song's lyrics are in the same vein as Gary Puckett & The Union Gap's "Young Girl" and The Knack's "My Sharona" as pointed out by HitFix's Melinda Newman. She added, the lyrics are "sweet" and tortuous as he sings "Oh, I still dream of a simple life/ Boy meets girl/ makes her his wife/ But love don't exist when you live like this... All these roads steer me wrong/ But I still drive them all night long/ all night long". There is a sentiment of "lament" in the song, "Oh you young wild girls/ You’ll be the death of me".
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It is possible for a person, or a piece of "intelligent" software, that in reality only has a shallow understanding of a topic, to appear to have a deeper understanding than they actually do, when the right questions are asked of it. The most obvious way this can happen is by memorization of correct answers to known questions, but there are other, more subtle ways that a person or computer can (intentionally or otherwise) deceive somebody about their level of understanding, too. This is particularly a risk with artificial intelligence, in which the ability of a piece of artificial intelligence software to very quickly try out millions of possibilities (attempted solutions, theories, etc.) could create a misleading impression of the real depth of its understanding. Supposed AI software could in fact come up with impressive answers to questions that were difficult for unaided humans to answer, without really understanding the concepts at all, simply by dumbly applying rules very quickly.
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On a macrocosmic level, the consciousness of living—the dim awareness that we are alive for a moment on this planet as it spins, meaninglessly, around the cold and infinite galaxy—gives human beings "the status of a small god in nature," according to Ernest Becker: "Yet, at the same time, as the Eastern sages also knew, man is a worm and food for worms. This is the paradox: he is out of nature and hopelessly in it; he is dual, up in the stars and yet housed in a heart- pumping, breath-gasping body that once belonged to a fish and still has the gill marks to prove it ... Man is literally split in two: he has awareness of his own splendid uniqueness in that he sticks out of nature with a towering majesty, and yet he goes back into the ground a few feet in order blindly and dumbly to rot and disappear forever. It is a terrifying dilemma to be in and to have to live with" (Becker, 1973, p. 26).
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Voncu also criticises the chronological presentation of the poets in the volume. The quality of translation itself appears to be a secondary concern among these reviews, although Razvan Voncu asserts that “Daniel Ioniță is not a translator, never mind being a poet”. It is worth noting that, apart from Voncu's unsubstantiated claim, no Romanian literary critic/reviewer addressed in depth Testament's quality of the reinterpretation in English, or its approach to it. However one English speaking reviewer surmised that “…[Testament] transfers well a voice which is distinctly Romanian into English, making it possible for the Romanian accent to be heard in our [English] language… This volume represents a window into Romania’s soul.” In addition, two critics, Pavel Perfil and Alex Ștefănescu describe the book-launch of Testament in Australia - and single out specifically the recital by actor Tug Dumbly of a poem from it (Eminescu's “Glossa”) in the Parliament of New South Wales in Sydney on the occasion of Romania's national Day (1 December 2012) - as an exceptional opportunity to represent Romanian poetry at the antipodes.
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The "punning title" of The Dumb Waiter, Billington observes, "carries several layers of meaning": "It obviously refers to the antique serving-hatch that despatches [sic] ever more grotesque orders for food to these bickering gunmen"—the dumbwaiter; "But it also applies to Gus, who, troubled by the nature of the mission [their next job as hitmen] to realise he is its chosen target; or, indeed to Ben, who, by his total obedience to a higher authority that forces him to eliminate his partner, exposes his own vulnerability" (89). As Gus "dumbly" awaits his fate, he may be a subservient partner who awaits orders from the "senior partner" Ben, but Ben too is subservient to The Powers That Be, a contemporary variation on Deus ex machina, manipulating both the mechanical dumbwaiter and them through its increasingly extravagant and thus comically inconvenient "orders" for increasingly exotic dishes, unnerving both of them. Billington adds: > This being Pinter, the play has a metaphorical openness. You can interpret > it as an Absurdist comedy – a kind of Godot in Birmingham – about two men > passing the time in a universe without meaning or purpose.
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