Ralph Jimenez of Concord served on the Monitor editorial board.

The first warning sign of dementia, as the ads that regularly interrupt the narrative of online newspaper and magazine copy urge me to explore, would be clicking on one of those ads. It’s hard to calculate the nature and volume of the messages that would result, not just online but by mail, and if one still maintains a landline, by telephony as well.

“Untreated earwax leads to social isolation and dementia,” explains an ad for what must be some sort of personal pressure washer. Earwaxes, apparently, are brain drippings and, what’s your name again?

Most “golden agers” could kindle their fires, if anyone still kindles fires instead of Kindles, with the unsolicited ads for hearing aids that pour through the mail slot. Hearing aids, apparently, amplify sound muffled by ear wax.

Fear of the downsides of artificial intelligence is nothing to be sneered at. There are, I believe, such things as evil algorithms, code that learns

what sort of thing annoys a viewer the most. That’s the case with Google ads that consist of an up from the gullet photo of the backs of disgusting, yellow, plaque and tartar-coated teeth. That ad punctuates almost every online newspaper article I attempt to read some days. Hit the X and close the ad, and a hurt and plaintive AI message asks you to tell Google why you rejected them and hurt their feelings. The more often you close the ad or tell Google that the ad is offensive, the more often it will appear in the future.

Television advertisers long ago learned that no one under the age of 50, or maybe now it’s 60, watches television, at least on a television. So the advertisements are geared to the Depends set. One ad after another urges viewers to ask their doctor to prescribe this or that new wonder drug that’s 0.0001 percent better in clinical trials than its cheap, generic counterpart.

You think you’re healthy and feeling great? That just means you’re missing the warning signs. Aaaargh.

Evil algorithms, having access to multiple thousands of clicks, preferences, and personal data gleaned, with, or usually without, consumer knowledge, know maybe not everything, but way too much about us.

Once the algorithm has you pegged, beware. Browse sites that cater to youth and still, up will pop an ad featuring a woman who looks like she cage fights with Marjorie Taylor Greene. She’s holding up what appears to be some sort of farrier’s tool. “Specially designed for senior toenails” the ad proclaims. Getting old is grim enough without stuff like that.

As economists, health care providers, the hospitality industry and others in business bemoan regularly, there is a national staffing shortage. It’s particularly acute in traditionally low-paying jobs like caring for the elderly. Demographics is partly to blame. There simply aren’t enough young people to fill starting pay jobs, or colleges. Many of those who would work can’t for want of affordable child care or housing.

New immigrants historically filled many low-paying jobs, at least for the first generation, but the legal immigration system, such as it is, is skewed in favor of highly-educated applicants. Plus, there’s no cheap housing available for citizen workers, let alone newcomers.

Some employers are looking to an old model to address the housing issue, the one used a century ago by mill and factory owners - company housing. That won’t solve the problem, at least not in time to deal with the caregiver shortage.

To address that, like warehouse owners and automakers, some hospitals, nursing homes and home-care providers are experimenting with robots to support or supplant human caregivers. The prospect gives me the shivers.

Like the evil algorithms that follow me and bombard me with wrinkle cream ads, the robots operate using artificial intelligence. We’ve seen that movie before, at least those of us old enough to remember when 2001 was in the future.

“Bring the bedpan back, Hal. I’m talking to you Hal.

Bring it back.

Hal?”

Click.

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