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| Saturday, October 14th, 2006 | | 3:07 am |
So I've been thinking about post-scarcity economies.
You know what I'm talking about. You see them all the time from the better sci-fi authors. Think Diamond Age by Neal Stephenson. Or Down and Out in the Magic Kingdom by Cory Doctorow. Or even books like Richard Morgan's Takeshi Kovacs novels.
The crux of the idea is basically ubiquitious, practically free energy. Either that or nanotech, which boils down to the same thing, plus abundant free raw materials. With ubuiquitous, free energy there is no longer scarcity in the world. At that point, the material wants of anyone should be filled. Manufacturing is so cheap with ubiquitious free energy and nanotech that if all one wants to do is sit on their ass all day in front of their 50 inch entertainment screen guzzling free beer all day, they're welcome to it. Because entertainment screens are free, they come from the dispenser. Just like the free beer.
Now whatever view you may have of humanity in general, with the option of never working but still having all material wants provided for suddenly open, we'll have a substantial prole class from that point on. How susbstantial is for you to estimate, given your opinion of humanity in general.
But what are some of the implications of this?
Right now, the social class system is pretty screwed up. We have the rich getting richer, the poor getting poorer, and the middle class dwindling as a small proportion of them make the jump to riches and the greater portion of them descend into being considered poor. Being a good liberal, I decry this developement, and think that surely there must be something we can do! Quit giving tax cuts to the rich, if you must "stimulate the economy" that way, give it to the poor or middle class! Put some regulations on corporations, for gods sake! I'm telling you, I'm reading this book by former SEC chairman Arthur Levitt, and they just have no accountability or controls at all. It's horrifying. But I digress. Bottom line, having a huge rich person/poor person divide is historically a very bad thing to have in your society, and I see it as a current problem in our society that could stand addressing.
BUT! Say we have a post-scarcity economy! That should solve everything then, eh comrades, eh?? And I've been thinking and no, I don't think it will. If anything, I think it might make it worse. Worse? Worse.
Because poverty is relative. And here I'll just beg forgiveness from all countries out there that actually have REAL poverty with starving people and 30 year life expectancies. I know you exist, but you're not relevant to this discussion. Because we're talking about America here. The country where poor people are obese, and rich people are skinny and well-toned. The country where poor people have 5 TV's in a house and it's a status symbol for wealthy people to only have one small TV, out of the way in a closet somewhere. That is America, dammit. And it's probably the closest model we have to a post-scarcity economy right now. And it's ugly.
So say post-scarcity happens. What's our currency then? Whuffie? Street-cred? Who cares, it might as well be dollars. In fact, I think there's a pretty good chance it WILL be dollars. But say it happens. POOF! Okay, all material wants are taken care of now. Only have to work if you want to, and here's your free beer. It's not as though corporations are just going to pack it in, consoling themselves with "well, we had a good run". No. Or that we'll suddenly become enlightened and no longer need corrupt politicians to tell us what to do or not do. Although I see them legalizing drugs pretty quick once you have a huge underclass with nothing but free time on its hands. Gotta have something to keep em busy. Basically, I see it as being very much like the system we have now. Politicians, corporations, dollars, and all. The difference will be there will be even MORE poor people, and an even greater divide between the "haves" and "have-nots".
Wait, what do you mean "haves"? If everything is free, what is there to have? You say we'll still have dollars, but what are those dollars gonna buy whenever I can go to the nearest wall and have it dispense anything I can think of? They'll buy the same thing they've always bought. Other people's expertise, creativity, and services. Can't get THAT from a wall, can you, bucko? If you need a brain surgeon's skills or an artist's creativity or a programmer's expertise, what are you going to give them? Stuff they could have gotten themselves from the wall? No. You still need money for these things. And that's exactly what a large number of people WON'T have. Because a basic premise of post-scarcity is free manufacturing. That means robots, holmes. No need for wrench-monkeys when you can build yourself a new working car for free. No need for cashiers and door-greeters now. No need for truck drivers moving bulk materials from warehouse to store. No need for the warehouse or the store. Or the gas stations that used to fuel the trucks. Basically, no need for ANYONE who isn't specifically trained, skilled, or talented in some way. And I gotta say, the great bulk of people aren't. And given the choice between free beer and a rigorous training program, I think the beer will be the more popular option.
So we'll have this huge mass of people entirely cut off from the higher products of civilization. And they'll KNOW it, too. I just don't see it being a successful societal model, to tell the truth. But I really and truthfully can't think of any acceptable alternative. You HAVE to value brain surgeons and programmers and the like, and intrinsic in the idea of "value" is scarcity. So I'm stuck for now on this one, I'll have to think on it some more. | | Tuesday, August 15th, 2006 | | 11:57 pm |
Happy Birthday to me I have received, on this birthday, a gift of such staggering awesomeness and originality that I can do naught but blog upon it. Okay, I'm going to talk about more than one gift. Each one staggeringly awesome. But the second one doesn't technically count, seeing as it's my present to myself. Now generally I have come to rely upon myself to dispense the staggeringly awesome gifts. My parents aren't in the habit of giving birthday presents to adult children. My girlfriend is a student on a tight budget. You know the drill. And of course anything I receive at ALL is appreciated and cherished, for the thought if nothing else. But the upshot is, I was not expecting it one bit. It was an ambush! But what did I receive, whilst enjoying a wonderfully prepared hibachi birthday dinner? Nothing but an African currency bracelet. A whatley-what-what? One of THESE.   That right there is a fine example of a bronze currency bracelet. It seems that in Africa, metal being generally considered valuable, they would shape it into a roughly wearable format, slap some designs on there, and use it as currency. But that just barely begins to approach the awesomeness of mine. Imagine opening up a present and seeing four pounds of age-patinaed silver sitting there. For your WRIST.    And it fit like it was DESIGNED for me, I tell you. Do you know how hard it is to find silver bracelets that fit a pipe-cleaner thin wrist? Yeah, well how about a FOUR POUND silver bracelet. Think you can find that in freakishly small? Well by god, the Africans can! They've got that stuff DOWN. Oh my. It was the most unique and awesome gift I have ever RECEIVED. I was just blown away. From my girlfriend's mother, incidentally. (I think she likes me.) | | Tuesday, June 20th, 2006 | | 12:37 am |
Linux, I love you, but you may just have to go.
See, there comes a point when dealing with things...any things. People. Cars. Operating systems. Banks. Anything, really. But there comes a point where even if that thing were to give you solid gold blowjobs for the rest of your life, it is STILL not worth spending any more time and effort on.
And I think I may have reached that point with you, dear Linux. You see, we started off so well. You were young. Exciting. Sexy, even. You stuck it to tha man, man!
But then you had to play me like this.
(shakes head mournfully)
Why? You've liked me before. I've never had any problems. Just stick in a handy Ubuntu disk, and away we go. Sure, you may have required some tweaking here or there. Maybe downloading a new kernel or some new packages. But you were always reliable, deep down inside. I trusted you, baby!
But, no. You've decided that those carefree times are done. You've become a prima donna. "Install me on that drive with WINDOWS? I don't THINK so!", as you wag your sassy finger to and fro. "Internet connection? Keep dreaming, boy. I've got a headache tonight, I'm not in the mood.", you say. "You want to reformat me WHERE?", you shriek.
When did the magic die, baby? When did we go wrong?
Well, maybe it's just you, Ubuntu. Maybe if I call up your sister Suse, she still knows how to have a good time.
Now Suse is stacked. And I mean STACKED, the girl comes with 5 disks. And that's before any online packages or updates! She's got you coming and going. Whatever you need, she's got.
But NO!
It's the same story wherever I go. "DHCP somebody else tonight, I'm NOT in the mood!". You used to be so open-minded about that kind of thing! And now all of you have turned upon me? WHAT IS THIS?
(grumbles)
Prima donnas.
To think of the HOURS I've wasted on you, begging you to change your mind. Ten of them, at least! Sorry, baby. You're just not worth it anymore. | | Wednesday, June 14th, 2006 | | 1:51 am |
I'm inspired. It snuck into my hindbrain when I wasn't looking. Suddenly, I write! What!? What's that, you say? You're back in the saddle again? You've taken up that inkstained cross once more? I'm shocked! Shocked! Whatever hath possessed you to do such a thing? Well, it was a number of things. Chiefly among them...my hair. "Hair?", you say. "What does hair have to do with it?" Oh ho ho, my friend, what DOESN'T hair have to do with it! How can one possibly be expected to write, yea to wax creative, without the proper mental inspiration? If the neurologick faculties are not properly overseen and stimulated, how can one even hope to adequately express onself? And need I remind you that it is nothing but your HAIR that oversees it all? Perched loftily, mere inches away from your coruscating grey matter, lord of its domain. Yes, your hair. That great regulator of cranial temperature! And temperature, as we all well know, is merely the macroscopic measure of activity. The very thing one's brain need undergo in order to write! It's a pretty solid case, my friends. You dispute it at your peril. Well, what of it, then? Hair you say! Yes I do. For my hair today is in a style which I have long counted amongst my favorites. Indeed, THE favorite. The reigning champeen for lo these many years. It's been a long time since I've been able to pull it off to. But now! Now, my hirsuitical fantasies have all come to fruition! I am once more self-affine. The first step, if you be so bold, is to spend HOURS getting your hair braided into little braids. This in itself is no small feat. For one, you must either find a willing accomplice or risk severe "braider's-wrist", that debilitating scourge of hairdressers everywhere! For another, you must have the style and panache to pull such a hairstyle off. This is ALSO no small feat, particularly if you do not enjoy the melanin surfeit that contemporary society feels you must possess in order to indulge in any of the more stylish hairstyles. But persevere, my friends. Persevere. For it is well worth it. For if you do, after...CENTURIES of minutes, and UNTOLD labors, you will have completed the first and most arduous step in the process. From there, it is but a small step to achieve...the self-affine braid. (audible gasps) Yes, that is right. THE self-affine braid.   a Accept no imitations. | | Saturday, March 19th, 2005 | | 8:54 pm |
So I am an enchilada ninja.
It's not an easy position to hold, lemme tell ya! There's always some gormless corn-fed challenger to the throne coming at you. Angling for the prestige. For the position. To be able to say they toppled the master.
Insolent pups.
(shakes head)
My sister made enchiladas and brought them over to my mom's house. The gauntlet was DOWN! I wasn't about to take that crap! I mean, I don't ADVERTISE the fact that I make the best enchiladas conceivable to man's sensorium, but to have these overly cheesy, bland MONSTROSITIES veritably shoved in my face was just too much! To FORCE my mother and the family to ENDURE the trials of such gooey, insipid...CALUMNY is just asking for it. I let it slip very casually. One must do these things the right way, you know. I said to my grandma "Say! You know, me and Alanna should have some sort of enchilada-off. I mean, she IS married to a hispanic man, I bet she has all sorts of tricks and traps we don't know about." The idea took hold, as good ideas do. By approaching my grandma about it rather than my sister, the challenge was issued through an intermediary, as is only proper. Gentleman never issue formal challenges in person, it would be the height of poor taste.
So yes!
Gauntlet down. Challenge issued. The big day comes.
She never stood a chance.
My enchilada ninja arsenal is well stocked, you know. The first line of attack was the sweet potato stuffed chiles. Poblano this time, rather than ancho. It's like the difference between a 5 star shuriken and 12 star shuriken.
Of course, the KEY to a successful campaign is your raw materials. So we have hothouse tomatoes. Vidalia sweet onions. Chicken breast meat off an actual chicken. A fresh avocado. Can of sliced olives. SHARP cheddar cheese. CORN TORTILLAS, of course. None of this trucking with the foully fluffy abomination that is a wheat tortilla. And the real killer, that secret little pinch that leaves everyone dumstruck and wanting more...Stagg Rio Blanco chicken chili.
The magic happens.
The enchilada-off begins.
We draw. It turns out I've made twice as much as her. When I cook, I cook majesterially. No reason to go halfway, you know. The whole family is there. To judge, of course. Everyone is polite and chatting it up, catching up on family matters. Everyone says things to the effect "Oh, they're ALL so good, I couldn't POSSIBLY decide."
The dust clears.
I made twice as much, and have less leftover than her.
THE TRUTH HAS BEEN REVEALED.
She had every advantage, you know. Extensive experience. Hispanic roots to draw upon. She's been longer on this earth than me, giving her the opportunity to study the esoteric mysteries of enchiladadom for a greater amount of time.
None of it mattered, of course.
For I am an enchilada NINJA.
(stares heroically into setting sun) | | Sunday, February 13th, 2005 | | 1:13 am |
You know, people think it's EASY being a Viscount.
"Oh" they say, "So all you've got to do is lounge about on your ancestral fief not squandering your vast fortune? No, wait! All you have to do is act like royalty, right? So you spend your days seducing handmaidens and chasing vermin on horseback?"
Oh, ye of red blood. OF COURSE I've spent my time wenching and partaking of the sport of kings! But theres so much more to it!
FOR INSTANCE...do you know how extremely DIFFICULT it is to wake up and NOT commission diamond encrusted bedslippers? I mean, my god! I wake up and gaze upon the Majesty that is My Feet....and nearly break down entirely when I realize that I should not properly treat them to what they deserve! Surely even diamond encrusted bedslippers are a half-measure at that! And I'm denied even THIS simple thing??
And this is not even getting into the ISSUE of the woefully inadequate raiment I clad My Body with! I've ordered my manservant to destroy all of the full length mirrors in the house, just so I don't have to look upon the...TRAGEDY...that is My Body touching such unworthy cloths as wool, cotton, and satin.
It should be nothing but the finest watered silk and cloth-of-gold! Damn my accountant and his lowly costmongery! Why, he even objects to my modest customary breakfast of quail tongue thurvidore ecrivets in a light garum sauce, the swine! SOME THINGS ARE NOT "LUXURIES", TO BE "SENSIBLE ABOUT", YOU NUMBER TWIDDLING, INSIGNIFICANT TWIT!
I'm sorry, I really must calm down. I unleashed the hounds upon my last two accountants, and my man Wigglesworth tells me he is having trouble finding new ones. Pshaw! I say, they're like lice! Nearly impossible to get rid of, and as close as the nearest barber! But I try to humour him. He does Get Ideas sometimes, oh ho ho!
But I digress.
You people pretend it's all fun and games...but it's NOT. You've got a masquerade to grace with your Presence tonight. Are you willing to wake up, AT THE CRACK OF NOON, and figure out what cravat you're going to wear? Black or grey? BLACK OR GREY?? Can't decide, can't decide, BRAIN ANEURISM!
You've got to stay on top of these things, you know. You must be tenacious! Despite everything, you can't just give up and have that wardrobe closet torched so that you need never think of it again! We are told that this is "not a reasonable response" given our "finances". Fie!
Ugh! I shant even ADDRESS going out to see some of the local minstrels and being addressed as "Count Rockula" by commoners when disembarking underneath whatever poor excuse they have for a port-cochere!
Uh! And now I have come perilously close to overexerting myself!
If you'll excuse me, I must retire for the evening. | | Saturday, February 5th, 2005 | | 4:20 pm |
In Memoriam
There was a time when I wasn't alone in this world. When I had allies on my side while fighting the "being smashingly attractive and clever people at a dull and incomprehending world" fight. My best friend, my brother, my ally, is gone now. But I still have my memories.
> We were playing chess, and he had just taken my bishop with no cost to
> himself. The situation was grim. I look over at him, he's studying the
> board...how is he feeling now? Smug? Confident? Catiously optimistic?
> It's impossible to say, we each have poker faces you could win millions
> with. So I turn my thoughts to myself. Why am I not doing well here? What
> is false about my interaction with these pieces? Why is my will to win not
> being executed right now? Then, it struck me...I was only opposing him
> HALFWAY!
>
> "Battle digit! ACTIVATE!!" (sound effect like a giant flourescent light
> turning on)
>
> My brother looks up...
>
> "Wha...?"
>
> Right into the Incandescent Fury of my Blazing Middle Finger!!
>
> I tap my newly resolute digit against my thumb at him, staring directly into
> his eyes...and move my piece with them, now ENTIRELY commited to opposing
> him. My thumb, of course, had already opposed him (it IS opposable, after
> all)...and now I opposed him FULLY, with my Battle Digit working in concert
> with my opposable thumb!
>
> It took him awhile to grasp it fully...but when he did, his eyes got
> anime-wide and:
>
> "OH!"
>
> He knew strong magic when he saw it!
>
> Needless to say, he lost that game. Indeed, that was the start of an
> unfortunate losing streak for him, extending even to Connect Four!
> I picked my brother up from school today, because my mom was going to
> be at some appointment or something and wouldn't be able to pick him up
> herself. So in the process of taking him home, I hear:
>
> "Hey, that car has "Allergy" written on it. It must be the car's name!"
>
> (We had just had a discussion about naming cars, eg one of my cars is
> named "The Spirit of Philosophick Inquiry" {I'm considering a vanity license
> plate "Y"}. This way, when me and my brother come up with one of our ideas
> requiring travel we can say "Quick! To the Spirit of Philosophick Inquiry!"
> jump in, and then flame will shoot out of the exhaust a la Batman as we soar
> off into our adventure! But I digress.)
>
> "Hey, that car has "Allergy" written on it. It must be the car's name!"
>
> "Ah yes, he must be one of the Horsemen. Except instead of being one of the
> Four of the Apocalypse, he's clearly one of the Eight of the Annoyances."
>
> "Yeah, I can just hear him explaining it. 'Yeah, the horse is in the shop,
> I don't know WHAT the hell happened to it...mechanic said it was probably
> the head gasket or something...this is just a rental.' "
>
> "Then we cut to the mechanic, fist deep in the horse's head...'What the
> hell? This thing doesn't even HAVE a head gasket!'"
>
> "Later, he's trying to stuff a head gasket in there, the horse is resisting
> like only wild horses can...'Good God! What the hell is WRONG with this
> thing!? This is the worst vehicle I've ever had the mispleasure of working
> on!' "
>
> Ah well, maybe you had to be there. We are young, after all. | | Friday, January 28th, 2005 | | 3:22 am |
And now, my friends, the hour is upon us! The time is nigh! I must talk about the most wonderful time of the day...threive AM. That's right, threive AM; that ethereal span of time linking the shallowly tedious 2 to the grumblingly sleepy 6.
Ah, threive AM...you are my muse.
When I'm threiving, everything flows. Concatenations of ideas line up, things happen, confluence lurks in every corner of the eye! Doesn't the word just say it all?
Threiving!
Is grieving perhaps a part of it? A little bit, yes...it is a somber time, a mournful time, when the hurly-burly and bustle of the world is reduced to a minimum. Thriving is certainly a large part of it, for I am ever at my best during this golden time. It is the ideal time for thinking, the perfect time for walking about downtown with skyscrapers looming quietly subdued, a time nonpareil for the witty riposte or the donning of hats. Departures made during this time are fraught with significance, every detail laden with hidden meanings. Arrivals are high-impact affairs, always laced with the tang of the unexpected and unlooked-for. It is a time that lends its gravitas and contemplative mein to everything experiencing it, and for this I love it. | | Tuesday, January 25th, 2005 | | 7:57 am |
Ok.
So my brain finally gave me my "word of the day" for today. Which is a bit inconvenient, because you notice that "finally" back there? Well today is now TOMORROW, it's taken so long. But I'm very ok with that, because this is DEFINITELY an "omelettes and eggs" scenario here.
I mean, this word of the day is so good I got piss-shiver just thinking about it!
Crude, I know. *Hunter S Thompson voice* But I'm a VERY CRUDE MAN! *Hunter S Thompson voice*
Here we go:
**trumpets herald the oncoming of The Word**
Gerunding
*ethereal neon-chased kittens leap out from behind every 37th air molecule as the world explodes from the sheer MAGNIFICENCE of today's word of the day*
Perhaps a bit of explanation is in order, because it isn't a very EUPHONIOUS word at all, from the SOUND of it, you wouldn't think it's such a Cosmically Perfect word that worlds would explode over it...
So a gerund is a verb used as a noun. As in "Yeah, we really admired the choir's singing." Singing, a verb, is in this sentence used as a noun. So singing is the gerund. It has become a nouned verb.
I hope you can see where this is going!
Gerunding, naturally, is the act of using gerunds! So we have now VERBED THIS NOUN! THIS NOUN THAT IS ABOUT NOUNING VERBS!
Oh god oh god oh god!
Which ALLOWS US to use the sentence "My GOD sir, your gerunding staggers me!"
*now the bits left over from the previous world-explosion all expand to world-size and explode ANEW with a correspondant neon-kitten dispersal*
GAH! THE SELF-RECURSION!!
*takes a kitten to the eye, head explodes* | | Monday, January 17th, 2005 | | 6:59 pm |
On the importance of always carrying a pear on your person....
Two thousand three hundred and twenty two years ago, a man in India sits in the middle of the road. He is a saddhu. A holy man. Penniless, clothed only in a loincloth, weathered by the elements, unconcerned with this world. And sitting in the road is what he does...everyone knows this, and everyone conducts their business around him. They are very accomodating towards their holy men in India. But today is different. A great procession is coming down the lane, all richly outfitted foreigners, full of flash and dazzle. It matters not to our saddhu, though. What is ANY procession, no matter how rich, when one routinely contemplates the infinite? So he remains in place...and this causes some consternation when the procession reaches him. A great general, all silver-chased armor and tired fury, comes stalking up.
"Get out of the way!"
The saddhu calmly regards him.
"Why?"
"Your king is going to come down this road! He has more right to it than you!"
He thinks about this for a moment.
"What gives this man a greater right to the road than I?"
By this time, the king's palanquin has made it up to this point of the road, and the general is apopleptic. He indicates the king, who is Alexander the Great.
"This man has CONQUERED THE WORLD! WHAT HAVE YOU EVER DONE?"
And the saddhu smiles gently, and looks at Alexander as he says:
"I have conquered the desire to conquer the world."
Alexander, scourge of empires, master of the known world, greatest king and general the world has seen, takes this reply to heart. He offers the saddhu anything he desires in the world. This is The King of The World offering somebody anything they desire. A mountain of gold, a palace, a harem with 365 women in it, Egypt...he has given away any and all of these things to people that he likes. He is somebody who Takes Gift Giving Seriously. And now he is prepared to bestow his munificence upon this penniless holy man.
The saddhu indicates the fine pear that Alexander has been eating, which is immediately given to him. Then the saddhu gives it to a hungry beggar nearby, and that is the end of it. | | Saturday, January 15th, 2005 | | 8:53 pm |
Bicameral minds?
"Pink valleys, hermaphrodite tables, these were all natural stages through which one had to pass on the path to true enlightenment"
Whee! Bicameral minds! A topic which I enjoy immensely. I sincerely hope you're ready for pages and pages of incoherent philosophical rambling, because thats what I'm about to dish out here.
In our universe, there are 3 fundamental things. Matter, energy, and information. And empty space too if you want to split hairs, but arguably it doesn't belong here because matter, energy, and information are all made up of one another and if we stuck empty space in there, it'd be the odd man out. And there should be no lonely fundamental building blocks of the universe!
Ok, I forget my immediate point in bringing that up, but I know we'll need that concept, so I'll be coming back to it.
We're all part of things larger than our selves. Society, socioeconomic backgrounds, informational backgrounds, cultures, you name it! These huge, diabolically complex THINGS, processes, networks of ideas, whatever they are, do more to dictate our individual lives than ANYTHING that we ever "decide". We are the cells that make up the organism. Many times, we like to believe that we have control over that organism, which is as funny as a blood cell in your left toe believing that it is deciding what you are going to do. After all, you go through actions (eating, heart pumping, metabolic processes, etc.) that benefit that left toe blood cell, making IT'S life rich and full, so obviously you can be summed up as a left-toe-blood-cell-happiness-maker machine! Which is, of course, an inaccurate way of looking at things. It is similarly inaccurate to believe that we control our societies or cultures, or indeed, even OURSELVES (how much autonomy does that left-toe-blood-cell REALLY have when you viciously stub your toe in the middle of the night and it escapes into the wide world?).
Ok, so we're part of things larger than ourselves, now what?
Intelligence is an emergent phenomenon. It is all about information density and exchange. When the density and exchange capabilities are high enough, "intelligence" emerges....and here I'll use the definition of intelligence meaning "the capacity to acquire and apply information". So our brains have a few billion neurons, and about a trillion connections between them. Those are pretty high numbers, and we generally feel that we're the highest you can get intelligence wise. But this is an inaccurate way of looking at things. We're just brain cells, baby. Much like neurons are "holographic" and are being modeled as tiny "brains" in their own right in today's neuroscience, our individual "brains" are just cells in organisms much larger than they are. You know those things I was babbling about earlier, the large ones we are all a part of? Well, they're intelligent. They have the capacity to acquire and apply information. They do so on a time scale larger than we can comfortably look at, and they may do it in a way that is not comprehensible or even apprehensible by us, but do you think that any of your individual brain cells understands or even knows what your entire brain is doing? Especially on time scales longer than, say, 3 seconds?
What THE HELL does this have to do with bicameral minds? I was expecting primitively religious Sumerians, dammit, and you're saying brain stuff at me! Hang on, hang on, it's coming!
Ok, so REALLY, everything we do is information. Yes, we acquire and apply information ourselves, but the acquisition and application ITSELF is information! And indeed, these processes often GENERATE information, which is wonderful! The information density and exchange available to our "organisms" is FANTASTICALLY higher because of it! So your ENTIRE LIFE is information, and you generate MORE information during that life, depending on the actions you take in your life. So clearly, if we could somehow influence the actions taken towards greater generation, this would be a good thing. From an intelligent standpoint, at least.
Now, I may not be getting to this after all, now that I see where this is headed...so I'll just say that information is The Point Of It All. We're all just matter and energy here anyways, which exists just as much and just as well in minimal information conditions. So if THERE IS a "point to it all" eg intelligence, us existing, life in general, then that point IS information generation. Information is what is added to the universe by the existence of such things.
Ok. So a bicameral mind is one that doesn't act like it has free will. It goes through the business of living, acquiring and processing information etc. but it doesn't generate much information. So what to do, if you're a fashionable young intelligence on the rise? Well, you have an idea! And the idea is free will! You break down the bicameral mind, you tell people that they have this thing called free will, that they have this thing called consciousness, and it is QUITE AN IDEA! Because minds that believe that they are conscious, minds that believe that they have free will, act in TOTALLY DIFFERENT WAYS! And remember, all action is information. A life lived believing in consciousness and free will throughout goes through quite different actions than a life that carries neither belief, and so generates much different information! And not only that, it generates MORE information because of it! More information density, more information exchange, it's FANTASTIC! Because those are the necessary conditions for greater intelligence!
The best part about this is that consciousness is just a free rider. They have done studies where you measure the conscious intention to act, and ALWAYS, you start the action before you "decided" to. Consciousness just sits there in your head, and says "Hey! I DECIDED to do that!" right after you start to do something. So consciousness isn't YOURS! Even you THINKING that you are conscious isn't yours! Gah, I LOVE this idea, it's so creepy! I know, I know! I'm just spraying crazy gibberish here, right? No, heres a cite.
cornea.berkeley.edu/pubs/160.pdf
Libet's work is pretty well known, and theres TONS more in The Journal Of Consciousness Studies.
And it's important not to confuse intelligence and information here. I'm not saying intelligence is The Point of It All, not at all! Intelligence is a neat trick, but that's about it. As far as I'm concerned, intelligence, like all the rest of us, is just a side effect of sex. Information, like all the rest of us, has a COMPELLING urge to procreate! So information is in the business of mating with other information, thereby generating NEW information! Intelligence is just a side effect of that process, something that information has come up with to facilitate the important business of getting together and mating and spawning the next generation. So intelligence is the informational equivalent of singles bars and leopard print bedspreads.
So it's funny. I don't believe that consciousness or free will ACTUALLY exist, but I am all FOR the IDEA that they exist, because that idea is invaluable. "But wait!" you say, "I still have free will, what about all the little choices I make like what I had for lunch yesterday and what I decided to wear today?". And my argument, which I will not go into in this particular discourse lest my email collapse under it's own gravitational field and drag us all to a fiery singular doom, is that no, you don't. Your "choices" are an artefact of being part of much larger processes, and the "choices" that you think you made were akin to a neuron's firing. Does a neuron "choose" to fire? Do you "choose" to express your individuality by wearing a witty t-shirt? No, your "choice" is concomitant with the conditions that you exist in, which aren't dictated by you at all. Just as a neuron's firing is as much a result of the potentials of the neurons around it as its own potential. Anyways, I can really get into this later. Probably will, at some point. | | Friday, December 24th, 2004 | | 8:33 pm |
My brother is dead
I'm not dealing with this all too well so far.
He went up to Louisiana with 2 friends and inconveniently decided to die up there. One of his friends followed suit. Car accident. Horrible crash. Newspaper articles.
This was SO him.
He always did have a bad sense of timing. My mom sobs to me "Why couldn't he have WAITED so I could give him his Christmas presents?" and all I can say is "Well, you know, I'm sure he TRIED. I mean, you know Ian and his sense of timing...I'm sure he had this all scheduled to be just a little bit from Christmas but then he went and did it and then he's up there saying 'Crap! I meant a little bit from Christmas the OTHER way!'..."
My mom looks at me and says "Well, he beat us after all. He didn't have to get a job." He always did have a mortal fear of having to "grow up" and get a job and a license and all of the horrible trappings of respectabilia. And he did it. He beat the bastards at city hall! Or our parents, whichever.
I can only assume he planned it this way, the fox.
God I'm going to miss him. There was so much we were going to do together. He was my partner in non-crime, dammit! He was The Cap'n! He was my brother. He was my best friend. He was the most important person in my life. And now he's gone.
I still don't think it's hit me yet. I've cried. I've thought about his loss. How he never even got to have a girlfriend or ride a motorcycle. About all the things we planned to do that can never be done now. Our apartment together. Being smashingly clever and attractive people in a dull and uncomprehending world.
I still don't think that I understand though.
The funeral is monday. It's going to be rough. | | Monday, December 6th, 2004 | | 6:21 pm |
| | Wednesday, November 24th, 2004 | | 9:30 pm |
In which my brother prevents me from becoming a murderer...
So I go over to the Capn's house....
"Hey I'm gonna need to borrow one of your shirts for when we go work out, I'm not gonna wear this (indicates sweatshirt)."
"Ok"
He tosses a shirt down to me. It's one of mine. He's also wearing one of mine (A "DOPE (your kids are on drugs)" shirt modeled directly on the DARE (to resist drugs and violence) shirts. Furthermore, just yesterday he borrowed my "I like my women like I like my coffee (Ground up and in the freezer)" shirt.
"Dammit!"
"What?"
"Nothing...nothing. Its alright."
"What is?"
"I can see that you're just trying to do the right thing here."
"How's that, then?"
"Well, you see I'm aready SO cool that people are already frequently overwhelmed by my Presence...it is not an uncommon occurence that they may need to go and sit in a quiet, darkened room for a bit to regain their composure after being exposed to my Glory....so I can see that you are just being socially responsible here. For IF I WERE to wear those shirts, the sheer magnitude of Presence I would then exude would be akin to opening up with a fire hose in a third grade classroom."
"......."
"I would walk into a store and the cashier would be hurled back into the wall, the other customers would glance at me and reel backwards gasping for air, small glass figurines would shatter....you know how it goes"
"Of course, of course...just imagine if you were to inadvertently end up in an office building full of cubicles!"
"My point exactly! It may well have proven fatal! You see? I'm glad you're doing the right thing, Cap'n. You're keeping me from being an indavertent murderer. You're making the world a better place....god bless you, sir.God bless you." | | Saturday, November 6th, 2004 | | 11:48 am |
The problem of you
Problem? Well, you're sure not part of the SOLUTION!
What makes you yourself? Where do your ideas and decisions come from? You can read a book, and you'll get certain ideas from it. Set it down and come back to the exact same book a few years later, and lo! An entirely new set of ideas can come out of it. What changed? The book sure didn't. You felt equally "yourself" each time you read it...so where the hell did that new set of ideas come from?
Well, you may say, people change over time. But this is even worse! Because what defines your you-ness? Is it your opinions? Your personality quirks? The way you respond to different situations? In the end, it doesn't matter exactly how you define it, because whatever terms you define it in are subject to change, and not just small change. Because during the course of a life, people can and do change 180 degrees when it comes to these things. How are they still themselves when formerly they were diametrically opposed to whatever they are now?
Then I consider that experimental psychology tells us that in different situations, the same person behaves across an astonishingly wide range...which is to say that the "you" that you are at your office cocktail party can be NOTHING LIKE the "you" that you are at the grocery store. The "you" that would never cheat in one setting readily cheats in a different one. There are no core personality traits that remain unchanged in every situation, there are merely tendencies, and those tendencies are surprisingly flexible.
So your "you" is as much a function of your environment as it is a function of "personality".
How do you know that that's you looking out from behind your eyes?
I maintain that its NOT always you, but whoever it is always broadcasts the message "this is you", so you're never the wiser. Because really, what is it that makes you YOU? Your uniqueness is manifested in certain behaviors or ways you relate to the world or opinions...in short, your personality. But your personality changes to such a wide degree that any OUTSIDE observer regarding that personality in different environments or at different times could easily conclude that you were two different people. The only thing stringing it all together is that meaty sack of water called your body.
So we have all these distinct, individual bodies running around, interacting with each other in exciting and improbable ways...AND an even BIGGER set of distinct, individual personalities manifesting themselves through those bodies.
Damn good thing those personalities are able to tell the body "I am you", or we'd be in a hell of a confusing pickle. And thats no place to be, it would reek of brine and sulfur! | | Sunday, October 24th, 2004 | | 8:35 pm |
Tedious philosophical maundering
How do you know what you want? How do you know that something is better than something else?
This is a question of quality.
Is this indefinable je ne sais qua that I'm calling quality objective? Can we measure it under a microscope, does it have properties, can we, in a word, properly say that it in fact exists?
Well, not really.
So it exists in your mind then? It is, in other words, just what you like? Entirely subjective? Worthless then, because I like different stuff than you and I'll take the position that I DON'T like anything you put out now just to damn your efforts to say anything about this mystical goo we call quality.
(Choking noises) Obviously sir, there are some things which partake of your mystery goo that we can all agree upon...the continued function of consciousness as abetted by BREATHING (choking noises stop) being one of them.
So we are at an impasse I see. There are certain classes of things that we are built a priori for finding this "quality" stuff in. Breathing, eating, and in other ways continuing consciousness being among them.
Of course, we COULD just go with the notion that quality is the interface between these two things.
Everything that we experience is, in fact the past. There is no present, because there is a small but not insignificant lag between experiencing something and REALIZING that you are experiencing something. This lag is the time it takes your nerve impulses etc. to travel to the pertinent areas of the brain, and then be processed into coherent experience. What is happening during this time?
Some would argue that quality is happening during this time. Quality is thus more fundamental than subjectivity and objectivity in the sense that it exists before either of them can. Both subjectivity and objectivity are manifestations OF quality, and it is therefore nonsense to try to classify quality as belonging to one or the other. (This is the basic proposal behing Pirsig's MoQ in Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance.)
So here we have this vast SEA of existence...and of course, in order to make any sense of it at all we must necessarily limit it. This limitation IS quality.
But then what of the DIFFERENCES in quality that exist? Why does one person like blue more than red, why do some people rape or murder, why are some people better than others?
The dogmatic answer at this point is that everybody has different experiences, thereby leading to different apprehensions of quality. I don't think that you can say this, though. Because if the act of experiencing IS quality, we run into the post hoc ergo propter hoc doodad.
The only way this can work is if everyone is loaded at birth with a different set of predispositions, then let loose in this existential smorgasbord to develop those predispositions according to the whims and vagaries of the whole process.
Loaded at birth with different predispositions? Is this that grim specter GENETIC DETERMINISM rearing it's cloaked visage? Oh my!
Ah, fuck it I'm tired. | | Wednesday, October 20th, 2004 | | 1:51 pm |
How's it going?
The Cap'n says "Hey, how's it going?" And I sigh and reply "Like a fish on a bicycle." There is a brief pause.
"...So, theres lots of flopping around and gasping and being poked by inexplicable metal bits then?"
"Couldn't have put it better myself."
Some days pass.
"So why is it you do drugs, anyways?" spake zer capitan. "Not a day goes by when I don't ask myself that same question" I say while shaking my head at the inexplicability of it all. Pause. "And?", he demands.
"And what?"
"Well, what's the reason?"
"Clearly, if I've asked myself this question every day, and have ultimately decided to do drugs every day, there is obviously some superbly compelling reason to do so."
"And what is it?"
"I cannot remember at this time."
"What?"
"I may not remember the actual reason at this point, but that is beside the point."
"Oh?"
"Well, I know that I am possessed of a remarkable intelligence, and can therefore trust my judgment in such matters retroactively." | | Monday, October 18th, 2004 | | 7:41 pm |
I have come to the realization that I am an antisocialite
After putting some thought to the matter, it becomes increasingly obvious.
A socialite is one who consciously seeks out their peers in order to be rich and clever at them. They do this in order to gain prominence in fashionable society, and to reassure themselves that they are indeed as rich and clever as everyone else in their group.
I, on the other hand, consciously AVOID my peers because they are consistently poor and stupid AT ME. I do this in order to remain inconspicuous in unfashionable society, and to prevent any unwanted rubbing off of said poverty and stupidity.
Clearly then, I am an antisocialite.
Really, the whole concept of opposites is a bit tricky though. I mean, a cat is a small furry animal that meows and eats tuna. So would it's opposite be a large scaly machine that coughs and gets eaten by tuna? For that matter, cats exist and have been thought of by many people. So our coughing machine must be nonexistent and have never been thought of by anyone, which clearly rules out the very machine that we are discussing, right? Of course not. Because just like in the exciting field of nemeses, opposites must be alike in nearly all respects EXCEPT a few, which are usually diametrically opposed.
So I am appositely labeled as an antisocialite. | | 12:15 pm |
I have a dream
All I want is to see a car, a nice custom car that has had a lot of work put into it, that has been named after a particularly bloodthirsty high official of the Spanish Inquisition. Thats right. I want to see a car named Torquemada. Maybe the license plate could be TRQMADA, but that would leave too many people in the lurch. No, no. The name would have to be emblazoned on the car boldly, in prominent positions, perhaps with the appropriate iconography and maybe even some blood stains around the fender skirts and ground effects, you never know. This is the type of thing that you could get creative with. | | Thursday, October 7th, 2004 | | 6:36 pm |
Divine Revelation
Alright, so lets say the we have an afterlife. Naturally, this afterlife is eternal, otherwise what the hell is the point of having one? But the tricky part comes when you consider what you mean by eternal. Because if you're eternal, you're outside of time. If you're outside of time, all sortsa shit starts going down. For one thing, there is no change...because change is a time based concept that depends upon a before and an after. Ditto for choice. No such thing as free will in that there afterlife. So maybe you voluntary submit to some sort of ignorance inducing factor that makes it SEEM like you're still in time just cause you're more comfortable that way.
This is how we end up here. Lets say that the choices we make here have some sort of bearing in our afterlife. They influence you in positive or negative ways, depending upon them. Otherwise, what the hell is the point of this life, right? Naturally, these consequences must be imposed upon you regardless of wether you think you've lived that life yet, because you're ACTUALLY outside of time, and are just maintaining the illusion of time to be more comfortable. So "before" you came HERE, to this life that you're living right now, you were wondering why the hell a good looking smart spiritual entity such as yourself was lugging around the metaphysical equivalent of a 2 ton ball and chain (or some similar negative consequence).
So you go ask somebody who is in the know....and they'll tell you "Oh yeah, in life 403b, you became a drug addict and caused a lot of unhappiness."
Of course, you're like "The Hell! I had an IQ of 160 and everything to live for, why the fuck would I go and be a drug addict? That's bullshit, you got something wrong. Pulled the wrong file or something."
To which they respond "No, no....this is the right file, thats what it says. (Taps the file) It's all in there. Can't have you just masturbating into a corner your whole life without SOME consequence, you know..."
"Fuck that! I'm gonna go PROVE that you're wrong, you slimy piece of..." Then you open your eyes and everything is white and loud and confusing, and you're getting smacked on the ass by some doctor.
Or you're trying to get into the really interesting parts of the afterlife, where there are ideas that are so elegant and large that just having them is like finding out that you're holding the winning lottery ticket while having sex and receiving the nobel prize ALL AT ONCE.
So you go up to the door, and the doorman checks his file and..."Nahnt. Can't come in. Not on the list."
"What do you MEAN, not on the list?"
"Says here that the best idea you ever contributed, in ALL of your lives, was a witty remark regarding a television sitcom's likely fate. And the only reason that's on the record is because your wife heard it and thought it was uncharacteristically clever of you."
"You son of a...that's bullshit!"
And that is how we end up here, in our various lives. We are all pugnacious, angry whatsits trying to prove some slimy bureaucrat wrong so you can go back up there and cram his precious "file" in a place that has never been alphabetized.
And I for one, cannot wait to get back. |
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