Tedious, tedious. This was worth a D.Phil.?
I don't know why I bother to read Dennett anymore; it's clear that when it comes to philosophy of the mind, he's all style and no substance. While Content and Consciousness isn't as bad as some of his other books on the subject, which have tended to read like Sokal hoaxes, it's still full of obfuscatory tangents and meaningless word games which, while sometimes conceivably moderately entertaining (you know, to someone else), are completely irrelevant and utterly unelucidatory.
Not that any of this is strictly Dennett's fault; he merely reflects his field, and his field is full of naked emperors. At least Dennett sometimes comes to his sense and writes outside it. For that, I'm even willing to forgive him his ignorance of AI — his shameful, inexplicable ignorance, which is not justified by the fact that this was written in 1969, somewhat before AI researchers would have let know-nothing philosophers anywhere near their expensive toys.