We all know some pretty ridiculously self-delusional types, but I like the idea that it’s a necessary evil, in the strict ontological sense that a being simply cannot know itself, like the architectural flaw of the eye that cannot see itself. Theory goes that without it we’d all realize we were pathetic mediocre slobs full of faults, possibly even terrible people, incapable of change, etc. Then we’d all just give up and kill ourselves. But there is something fascinating about this blind spot.
Brand Obama is certainly indisputable. If nothing else, sales of Obama merchandise alone might get us out of the great depression part 2 the quickening. Perhaps Obama branded merchandise could actually be the next Big Bubble. Good luck, Obama dude, you’ve got quite a mythology to live up to. Obama as Jesus. Obama as hipster icon. You are a legend, an icon, a hero, and you haven’t even started your job. That’s some pressure. Sure, I feel the hope, but only like an alcoholic after a near death bender. Excuse me if I’m a little skeptical of either of these political parties of ours that have gotten us here in the first place, and the soaring fancy talk that woos the credulous and adamant. But I’ll keep paying my mortgage just to pitch in.
I don’t even pretend to understand Generation SKINNY-jeans, and why would I? All generations should mind their own business. But I have to depart some good old fashioned world-weary advice on someone, and the interwebs are for sharing. Ready? Here it is: government is not a panacea. Just kidding. Of course it is. Save Circuit City!
Here it is really: invest in expensive tools, like DeWalt, or if there is a better brand, that. Don’t buy the cordless screwdriver that can’t even drill through jello just because it is cheap. Save yourself the agony, the extra time, and years of accumulated dead batteries and crappy tools. This extends to all tools as well, like lawn rakes, edger trimmer machines, snips for wire stuff, snips for plant stuff.
Also, don’t invest in anything besides tools at this point. Not stocks, nor bonds. Not gold, nor bronze. Maybe original art.
Note to self: anger goes much further in virtual worlds. The next time I feel like self-immolating, I’ll be sure to do it in Some Other Life.
I had a dream last night that I pulled up to Dunkin Donuts drive-through and David Foster Wallace was working the window. He very routinely handed me my order, two donuts – one glazed, one chocolate cake- and a coffee, and then conspiratorially asked if I had anything else for him. I reached into the glove box and pulled out a large manuscript and handed it through the small window. He looked at it skeptically, leaned forward and whispered, “No, you know, I mean for the bank. ” And so it turns out that in this particular post-apocalyptic dreamscape all the world’s banks had collapsed and now Dunkin Donuts would “hold your money” in mafia-esque black market accounts, because after all we need someone to hold our money. Are we far off from this (not the recently deceased writers working at Dunkin Donuts part)?
I don’t know what’s cooler, BMX being an olympic sport, or being able to bid on a FULL SIZE Viper or Cylon Raider from Battlestar Galactica.
Sometimes I think the kid in me just might live forever.
Interesting bit on data mining cars, but it’ll never happen. Not for a long time at least, when the government will probably mandate it for our “safety.”
This bit kills me:
He believes that as the car of the future studies the driver’s voice, facial expressions and emotional state using a camera and even blood pressure monitors in the steering wheel, it could change its tone to match your mood. In other words, it’ll know when you’re about to blow your top because someone cut you off, and soothe your nerves with a friendly voice.
Are you kidding dude? If my car talked to me when I was angry I would pull over and light it on fire.
However, add a little AI therapy to the mix, and perhaps a benzodiazipine dispenser, and we might have something.
“Our research indicates that the strategy that works best is what we called cognitive reframing, which involves not letting the negative emotion start in the first place” he says. “So rather than try to repair the emotion, you try to prevent it. Someone cuts you off and the car says, ‘Five miles ahead, the road will clear,’ something that changes your view from anger to something more positive.”
Hal: “Relax, Manunderstress. Five miles ahead, the road will clear.”
MUS: “Give me a Xanax, Hal. And shut the fuck up.”
I always wonder what a space death would be like every time they jettison someone out the airlock on Battlestar Galactica. Dramatic and painful perhaps, similar to drowning…but just imagine the view. I’ve never thought of asphyxiation as an acceptable dramatic death for myself, but soaring through space may be an exception.
At most, an astronaut without a suit would last about 15 seconds before losing conciousness from lack of oxygen. (That’s how long it would take the body to use up the oxygen left in the blood.) Of course, on Earth, you could hold your breath for several minutes without passing out. But that’s not going to help in a vacuum. In fact, attempting to hold your breath is a sure way to a quick death.
Last week I watched Battlestar Galactica on my computer, full screen, 10 hours before it aired on the sci-fi channel. There were 3 or 4 Intel commercials that were really short. I think networks are starting to get the picture. TV is going away, like CDs are, and like radio is, like all traditional media is.. But then again nothing is going away, fools, it’s resurfacing in new environments, with updated, perhaps tighter business models. If a band like Vampire Weekend can get big overnight because some pretentious website says they are the new “IT” band, well, you can hardly blame the internet pirates for ruining the world. The media is the message, the message is free, but the resulting buzz is what people will make money off.
Going but not gone. Tonight I thought I’d kick back and watch BSG on Hulu, which has been putting up the episodes, but someone at corporate sci-fi gave millions of sci-fi nerds blue balls and decided not to let them post it. The Gods giveth, the Gods taketh away.
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