Saturday, April 23, 2005
Re: we are becoming the borg :(
I just thought I'd illuminate the difference, and address why cyborg is indeed the correct metaphor to use. So without further ado, the difference between a cyborg, a robot, and an android.
Robot
There's little to say about robots, the key ingredients to classify one as a robot is that it operates automatically, without thought, without conscience, and acts in accordance with orders or its programmed "mind" - it is a machine.
Cyborg
Cyborgs can be thought of as cybernetic organisms, bionic humans, or simply humans with some form of mechanical/electronic augmentation or replacement for a physiological function of their body. A cyborg is born a human, and for those of faith, possesses a soul. There is however, the question of where the line is drawn - if a man loses an arm and replaces it with a mechanical prosthetic, but still retains conscious control of his limb, do we consider him a cyborg? To me, a cyborg has to fit additional criteria beyond the strict definition, "A human who has certain physiological processes aided or controlled by mechanical or electronic devices" (American Heritage® Dictionary). For me, a cyborg must either:
- Be granted abilities beyond that of the average human with said replacement;
- The replacement must function independent of the person's own brain's control (i.e. artificial respirators);
- The replacement must be one that is vital to the person's survival (i.e. a major organ);
- The device must be integrated with the body (otherwise technology would make everyone a cyborg - touch a computer? a calculator? a bicycle? CYBORG - this avoids that dilemma).
This is where the confusion is usually made, androids are actually quite the opposite (theologically?) to that of cyborgs. An android is a robot that possesses independent thought processes, it is entirely mechanized, and resembles a human in shape and form (it is humanoid).
Consider I, Robot as an example of the distinction: the main "robot" character, Sonny is in actuality an android, because he is able to act on his own accord, while his counterparts are robots because they are programmed to think and act in accordance with specific parameters - they follow orders and programmed responses to situations, but they have no cognition.
We're at the stage now where we need a new term to describes the mechanization of thought. When a person stops thinking their own thoughts are they not subhuman? That's how I see popular culture: a bunch of dickless, mindless, subhumans. Unfortunately we can't lump them into any of these categories, because, surprisingly they do have a brain, they just fail to use it.
I propose we enlist the term "mindless fucktards," and from there branch off with:
mindless fucktardification - the act or process of making one a mindless fucktard; and,
mindless fucktardology - the study of mindless fucktards, with emphasis on rehabilitating those who are afflicted.
we are becoming the borg :(
On Star Trek, there is a "race," so to speak, of manlike machines. They all look the same, and act the same: their every movement is mechanized. With every technological advancement of today, we are furthering ourselves to this monotonous state. Cell phones wire each person to every other one, just like the borg. Computers will soon be able to read brainwaves, and soon after, transmit them. This transition will not be intentional, however, with the media dictating the style and, aided by the commercialism of the future, the people will begin imitate each other. Yet, there will always be the nonconformists, who maintain a sense of identity by not buying into what he would think is "selling out." (tj RFOLZ).
Having said this, one should attempt, with all possible efforts, to find xanadu in the world today. The green grass and vibrantly colored trees form the beauty of the earth. When a person spends too much time in one job, the motion becomes mechanized. That is, he can continue without thinking; he can go through the motions without err. At this point, days will fly by because, when stuck in a boring routine, one loses track, and in his or her mind, time accelerates. I am trying to get into photography. This way, I am always paying attention to the small details of the world around me, looking for that perfect shot. It helps me to slow down and really grasp actuality.
Wednesday, April 20, 2005
The FIRST POSTOAST
The world is like a ride in an amusement park. And when you choose to go on it, you think it's real because that's how powerful our minds are. And the ride goes up and down and round and round. It has thrills and chills and it's very brightly coloured and it's very loud and it's fun, for a while. Some people have been on the ride for a long time and they begin to question, is this real, or is this just a ride? And other people have remembered, and they come back to us, they say, "Hey - don't worry, don't be afraid, ever, because, this is just a ride... And we... kill those people.
Monday, April 18, 2005
the sheriff's back in town
OH NOES!
Saturday, April 16, 2005
[side note]
On a side note, and this isn't entirely antithetical to the blog, my private folder of music and miscellany was stumbled upon, and blogged to death, almost bringing my (generous) monthly quota of bandwidth to a screeching halt - had I not discovered it this morning it surely would have.
So I tip my hat, in much bemusement, to whomever it was that first discovered it.
Friday, April 15, 2005
Two Kinds of Fools
"Listen... do you know about the two kinds of fools?"
"Plain and damn?"
"No..." Karkov grinned and began. "First there is the winter fool. The winter fool comes to the door of your house and he knocks loudly. You go to the door and you see him there and you have never seen him before. He is an impressive sight. He is a very big man and he has on high boots and a fur coat and a fut hat and he is all covered with snow. First he stamps his boots and snow falls from them. Then he takes off his fur hat and knocks it against the door. More snow falls from his fur hat. Then he stamps his boots again and advances into the room. Then you look at him and you see he is a fool. That is the winter fool.
"Now in the summer you see a fool going down the street and he is waving his arms and jerking his head from side to side and everybody from two hundred yards away can tell he is a fool. That is a summer fool." (Hemingway, For Whom the Bell Tolls)
Tuesday, April 12, 2005
Doctrine of the Fall
before the fall I will be able not to sinThat's the basic interpretation in early Christian religion, taught by my Roman professor. Doesn't this then contradict the concept of a fallen angel? An angel, a being in heaven is not able to sin, and the strict definition of sin is to go against the will of God, and yet the definition of a fallen angel is an angel who has rebelled against the will of God.
after the fall I will not be able not to sin
and in heaven I will not be able to sin
In fact, isn't the whole idea of the "First War in Heaven" a logical fallacy?
Sunday, April 10, 2005
South Korea to Deploy Robots
Currently, the two Korean borders (North vs. South) are the most heavily fortified to have ever existed. And now, "the Defense Ministry plans to deploy robots with combat capability... as part of revamped security measures to deter North Korean infiltration." The brigadier general leading this operation expects to use 250 robots per kilometer of the border, which spans 253 kilometers in total. [link]
However, even with armies of robots standing guard, they still remain suceptible to North Korea's ace of spades.
Friday, April 08, 2005
I have a teapot.
Is anything driven to the extreme, or the absolute, a dead end? If we take the ideas of truth, good and bad, imperfect and perfect, virtue, love (or what Socrates' wanted which was perfect love), ect., all of these are a desire toward an end.
Recently talking about perfection, it was mentioned that it isn't real or doesn't exist. A digression went on about how imperfection exists, but if perfection doesn't exist, then, neither does imperfection. How can one be without the other? In one sense, their is no imperfection, but only difference in existence.
If something false, or a lie, (or whatever one would term as the opposite of the truth), lets use fiction which means "not real", then, if it isn't real, or in one sense, doesn't exist, then neither does the truth, for it is dependant upon something not being true. So what is there? So there is only the reality, not true or false.
Thursday, April 07, 2005
Mind at Large
"Each person is at each moment capable of remembering all that has ever happened to him and of perceiving everything that is happening everywhere in the universe. The function of the brain and nervous system is to protect us from being overwhelmed and confused by this mass of largely useless and irrelevant knowledge, by shutting out most of what we should otherwise perceive or remember at any moment, and leaving only that very small and special selection which is likely to be practically useful.
According to such a theory, each one of us is potentially Mind at Large. But in so far as we are animals, our business is at all costs to survive. To make biological survival possible, Mind at Large has to be funnelled through the reducing value of the brain and nervous system. What comes out at the other end is a measly trickle of the kind of consciousness which will help us to stay alive on the surface of this particular planet." (Aldous Huxley, Doors of Perception)
Ahh Huxley, you and your mescaline, what ever will we do with you?
Wednesday, April 06, 2005
willpower
"But this girl, this regular girl and one other girl are waiting for something else; they are waiting to teach someone a lesson. They've already phoned her up, they've called her out.
Because she is big, because she likes that boy. Because she is brown and she lost their book; because she doesn't fit and she lies. Because they can.
The girl they're going to get is miserable, that much is clear. Four different schools and two different foster homes in the past year. She keeps returning to family -- her parents, her grandma and grandpa. And she keeps running away. And she doesn't know, doesn't get the plot, doesn't understand her own part. So it starts.
The ones who watched, maybe they thought it wasn't real. Maybe as they yelled out or laughed they were actually frozen. Maybe they were so glad not to be that girl -- whose hair is being held up to a lighter now -- that they don't even know how to imagine shouting stop. Maybe they think that silence is the ticket, the only way to never end up like the girl.
Even the ones who didn't watch, who just heard about what happened, they carry the silence too -- a dark present, passed hand to hand. When they get home maybe they will dream about being blind. Because they can't stand the replays anymore -- how the girl looked up and begged for help." (Joan MacLeod; The Shape of a Girl)
This passage enters my mind from time to time, sometimes as a reminder of why people do many of the things they do, though why I even bother justifying on their behalf is beyond me; call it mercy, call it empathy. The sad thing is this story is true, this girl died a victim of her own lack of will. Sometimes I find myself in the very same position only with much less at stake. I have freedom of will, but sometimes I lack the will to exercise that will. In the end her and I are no different.
Tuesday, April 05, 2005
when wounds refuse to heal
DrummerBoy765: it means you have AIDS and it's already affecting your immune system.
Sunday, April 03, 2005
Abort.
I (now) have a button that says "Abort Bush In The First Term" on my purse.
Since the Final Four's in town, so are a bunch of rednecks from Illinois (supporting the "fighting illini," a team not even allowed to bring it's own mascot into town- an indian chief). They all frequented my favorite ice cream hangout this afternoon, bringing with them their tacky clothing, trademark idiocy and a hell of an economy boost.
I was standing in line, waiting to pick up my sunday ice cream cone after dinner, when an elderly woman looks at me, looks down at my purse, and looks back up at me again. I looked pretty menacing with my 6 ear piercings, baggy chain pants and studded belt, I'm sure.
She says (I quote)- "How DARE you have something so politically incorrect on your purse! Don't you have any respect for your country?! For our troops?!?!"
I explained, "Sorry, no, I worship satan instead."
She looked put-off by my satan comment. But it makes me feel better to think about how I affected her life in a terrible, terrible way.
stairs
well here you have it: an ordinary, run-of-the-mill flight of stairs.
now the question is:
do these stairs run up? or do they go down?
do these stairs run up? or do they go down?
this question has boggled my inner most intellect for years. granted i come off as a relatively smart person, but i have not been able to deciper this ordeal. one night i climbed the stairs to couch myself for the night. that night was climatic for my thought processes. i had finally decided that the staircase in my house, in fact, did go up. however, that very next morning, my mind was in a state of explosion as my destiny was divinely manifested to trot down those steps. my previous conclusion was refuted. please leave any help in comments; i am honestly torn.
spring-somewhere
You know, if we all adopted the timecube we could do away with these time changes.
Who's with me?
Saturday, April 02, 2005
Pope's dead.
I've been waiting for that bitch to die for the longest time. I don't think anyone understands my desire for the pope to be vanquished by the forces of evil. Or maybe just the combined force of old-age and idiocy.
"If we have no peace, it is because we have forgotten that we belong to each other." - Mother Teresa.
I hate the woman, but damn, she tells it like it is.
(I secretly want to become a nun, so I can start a prison break.)
evolution of consumerism
"The present vogue for loudly condemning the role of conditioning, propaganda, advertising and the mass media in modern society may be assumed to be a form of partial exorcism designed to reinforce a vaster and more essential mystification by distracting attention from it." (Raoul Vaneigem)Wow. We're fucked. We're going to have our eyelids taped open, flashes of colorful lasers will commence, and Microsoft's corporate logo will be forever seared into our immediate consciousness. Our vision will be watermarked with desires to consume.