Also, watch the trailer for their forthcoming piece, The Kicker.
A semi-regular, Seattle-based podcast featuring interviews with local (and national) luminaries on politics, culture, history, film and philosophy.
Also, watch the trailer for their forthcoming piece, The Kicker.
Because of the fragility of magnetic media, data on floppy disks will eventually degrade, obviating new solutions for the archival of floppy-based data. This clever solution has a charming, Rube Goldberg-esque quality to it that I can't help but admire. However, children born in the new millennium will see the floppy disk as quaint or arcane as a horse-drawn carriage or a black-and-white tube television. They will wonder how we could ever stand such an obviously flawed, inferior technology.
I remember when the selling point for a 3.5" floppy disk is that it could fit in your shirt pocket. What's next: shirts without pockets?!?!
This news bookends well (no pun intended) with the discussion that my latest guest on the podcast, Katelyn Hackett, and I followed to a brief, yet unfinished, conclusion. We agreed that there remains some value to physical experience of a book, but the convenience of the technically superior eBook has a place as well.
Certainly, replacing a complete set of the Brittanica with an electronic version would save shelf space on the order of a parallel parked Winnebago, and perhaps even save you money. Their site is offering a week of a free tour of Brittanica Online, with the cost of an annual digital subscription at 70 bucks. That would save you a bundle, given that a set of the print Encyclopedia's sticker price was somewhere between $500 to $1,000 dollars. But the real question, for me at least, is whether or not a subscription to a digital Brittanica is simpley worth that much, given the much larger, more dynamic (not to mention free) Encyclopedia: Wikipedia?
The denizens of the Old Guard will make a lot of sound and fury about the defending the stalwart objectivity of the Encyclopedias written by a cabal of dedicated, well-schooled experts against a heterogeneous mob of basement-dwelling, high school dropout sectarians with a grudge and an internet connection. But, of course, it can't be that simple. Over time Wikipedia has, through the process of time and erosion, molded millions of entries on so many subjects that they could never fit in a 30 volume set. While the information within will never make for iron-clad footnotes in a graduate school dissertation, it does offer the casual knowledge-seeker a brief jolt of information (and paths to dig deeper, if they so wish). Also, there's something to be said for the temporal fix of a printed volume. Things happen, and Wikipedia can change, but your 2002 version of the Encyclopedia won't.
In addition to how the form factors work in favor of an online presence, each page on Wikipedia allows you to browse the "Discussion page" behind every entry; displaying the sometimes mundane/sometimes illuminating arguments between the page contributors and site editors about the objectivity of the information contained. From my desk, access to this (as well as the ability to join in) is invaluable. Unfortunately, with Brittanica, we never got the opportunity to sit in on their editors' meetings and take notes.
In addition to the inherent deficit of information about what Brittanica's editors chose to leave out, the very format in which each article is written influences the quality of the information within. To put it simply, you can only fit so many words in an entry. Linguist and media critic Noam Chomsky illustrates this problem of 'concision' has on knowledge:
As "gatekeepers" of knowledge, editors routinely must balance the intractable problem of what to leave in, and what to leave on the floor. Perhaps, now that Brittanica has moved online (and must now compete with the larger, more agile Wikipedia) we hungry consumers of information may benefit from this competition, and each of us can take to our role as a gatekeeper, furthering the project of the democratization of information. As someone who grew up in a world bridging the analog and digital eras, part of me mourns the death of a titan of the Old World. But, to the benefit of our civilization, the internet is no Library of Alexandria... and it can't be burnt and left a pool of ash.
In the interview, I mention this TED Talk by Gabe Zichermann as well as this AMA session with Sam Harris.
Also, follow Katelyn's twitter stream here.
The problem, often not discovered until late in life, is that when you look for things in life like love, meaning, motivation, it implies they are sitting behind a tree or under a rock. The most successful people in life recognize, that in life they create their own love, they manufacture their own meaning, they generate their own motivation.For me, I am driven by two main philosophies, know more today about the world than I knew yesterday. And lessen the suffering of others. You'd be surprised how far that gets you.
Episode #3 Incoming...
Stephenson makes the case reiterated so often among today's cultural and scientific elites: we aren't focused on making manifest the promises of the future (at least the kind of utopian, high-concept future of the olden days). Stephenson lays part of the blame on IT as a siphon for America's capacity to innovate (a vortex to which Yours Truly fell prey) as well as those in the culture responsible for dreaming up the next great thing.
But, America's great popularizer of science Neil deGrasse Tyson, summarizes it so much more eloquently here:
I'm unsure if Stephenson's dream of the 20 kilometer tall building, truly a Ziggurat, is interesting, and it's one grounded in pragmatism. I'll resist the obligatory literary comparison between Stephenson's building and the Tower of Babel; I am skeptical of the moral conclusions divined from mythologies written by anonymous, bronze-age barbarians. But I digress, we have the technology.... But, both Stephenson and Tyson aren't just kicking the can down the road to the next generation of kids with agile, unbroken spirits; they are trying to lay down the cobblestones to help them find the future. This author does believe they are correct when asserting that building a dream, albeit a fictional one, is the likely first step.
As a film school graduate (and ardent SciFi fan), I am saddened that my young nephews' exposure to science fiction has been reduced to Michael Bay's infinitely-stupifying forays in the banal spectacle and George Lucas' uninspired retelling of the story of Jesus of Nazareth (with light sabers). Hollywood cares little for stories with new ideas, and even less for subversive or un-focus-grouped tangents. If we rest the responsibility for dream-making entirely in the hands of Hollywood, those dreams will likely be as hollow and forgettable as any creative work made exclusively for profit and by a committee well-fed plutocrats.
It is his cold, unemotional, even robotic character that allegedly troubles Romney's campaign. New York Magazine's profile of Romney last year brilliantly lays it out:
Perhaps it is not surprising, then, that he has adopted a public persona that contains no detectable motives at all, one that is buried in objectivity, in data, in process.
Of course, it has been a growing trend for presidential candidates to appear to hold no opinion too strongly or answer a question too directly. The highly calculating, finely honed nature of American electoral theater all but requires a candidate to appear devoid enough of substance to allow the voters superimpose their own desires on the candidate. If you want to be likeable, be vague. Take the case of Barack Obama.
Romney evidently plays this game very well and for the Republicans, who largely see the President's role as CEO-in-Chief rather than a legislative coxswain, his handlers and financial backers are probably very happy about his performance so far. But Romney hasn't won yet, a fact that candidate #2, Newt Gingrich, is banking on. But there is still the vulnerability of Romney's stiff persona.
The Atlantic's Brian Fung wrote recently in an article that suggests another way in which to view this dilemma: Romney as Creepy Robot. He states that Romney exhibits an "uncanny valley" quality that confuses and unnerves us. This is the relatively new idea that as we make more realistic automatons (human-like robots), the more creepy they get.
Watch the Japanese dental assistant training robot for a shining example:
Fung puts it succinctly:
Romney's problem is that he occupies a kind of uncanny valley for politicians. Just as people who interact with lifelike robots often develop a strange feeling due to something they can't quite name, something about Romney leaves voters unsettled.
You could write off this "enthusiasm gap" or Romney's weirdness as being a combination of his stilted demeanor mixed with the alien-like nature of his purported religion, or more simply that as an extremely wealthy citizen (certainly a member of the "one-percent") Romney lives in a separate social sphere then the rest of us. The true cause for the weirdness may never be solved by this kind of speculation. But this metaphorical play about humanness and automatons compels me to revisit one the great films of the 20th Century(in my opinion, anyway): Blade Runner.
In Ridley Scott's dystopian science fiction opus, the human-like robot antagonists are called "replicants," designed to mimic us in every way, except for their truncated three-year life spans and their lack of emotion. Here we run headlong into uncanny valley and the tragic cliche of the soulless, unfeeling robot. But, in this world the newest replicant models come out, the "Nexus Six," and they begin to grow their own emotions. The films action centers around a "blade runner" named Deckard (played by Harrison Ford), who is essentially a detective that hunts down and retires (read: kills) escaped replicants. Besides a powerful gun, the blade runner relies on a Voight-Kampff machine to interrogate a suspected replicant and from the lack of true emotional response, catch them.
At its core, this is an action film, so we get our expected dosage of running, brawling and shooting. But the film's lasting contribution to discourse is, I argue, its meditation on a key question: what would life mean if we could not tell the difference between real and artificial life?
The replicants are used as slave labor in the "off-world colonies," in outer space somewhere, and their function is that of a disposable work force built to do the dangerous or difficult tasks humans no longer want to do. Deckard learns that a group of escaped replicants violently overthrow their masters and return to Earth seeking... well that's what the audience wants to know. For those who have not yet seen the film, the below video is a bit of spoiler (you may wish to skip it):
We witness the violence and apathy toward human life, as the replicants kill their way to their goal. Deckard's necessity is predicated on the notion that in this world the replicants are dangerous and must be stopped at all costs. But, we slowly grow to understand that while there may be a horrifying and sadistic decadence in the way the replicants exercise their violence, that they are designed to be killers. Also, the life into which they are born, slavery, affords them only two real avenues in their short lives: to obey or to kill. We also find that they fall in love, keep photographs of one another and possess a desire to experience beauty and pleasure, and even to search for meaning.
As Deckard faces the prospect of his own death at the climax of the film, his nemesis Roy Batty, saves him with an act of pure compassion. And hence, the film creates a role reversal: which one is the real killer?
Mitt Romney, and his well-paid cadre of campaign strategists, may well be crafting a narrative for him as the good replicant who will catch us as we fall. We are certainly sung the songs of a messianic savior with all of the republican candidates, but Romney seems to have the most to prove in regards to his humanity. In November, without fail, these primary days will be lost, like tears in the rain.
XML/Podcast feed to follow shortly. In the meantime, if you'd like the download the file for later, click here.
The intriguing bit, which he waits until the end of the topic to reveal, is that Miller admits to being a theist, but not a creationist. I am fascinated by the growing distrust of science and terrified that one of the outcomes of this distrust may that an entire generation of Americans loses their incentive to help expand the frontiers of knowledge. More on this later...
Instead of me attempting to describe the biggest problems about SOPA and PIPA, please watch this video primer from noted Internet pedagogic guru Khan Academy:
The key point the narrator makes here is "...on just a whim [the government] could take down any site with user generated content..." Of course, it would be foolish to think that, if enacted, the newly minted Internet Police would take down Facebook or YouTube (those sites are too wealthy, have too many lawyers, and too well connected to face a serious threat of shutting down), but they won't. However, the number of these suspected sites that would be in violation of copyright infringement would be so large it could represent a majority of the webpages on the Internet (there are over 340 million pages on the web, by the way). But obviously they can't do that, so what would follow would be a witch hunt of sorts, highly politicized, that would mire the courts and the very infrastructure of the Internet for years.
So, cue Internet activism! Yesterday, January 18th, sites like Google and Wired censored their pages in part, or like Wikipedia, blacked them out entirely. And it worked, for now. Congressmen and Senators, likely seeing the potential backlash from future voters, did an about face. The number of legislators who stated as explicitly for/against flipped from 80/30 to 64/108. The combined voice of many large cultural entities on the Web *did* shift the political trade winds in this instance, and we should take note.
However, we should always be cautious. The sponsor of SOPA, Rep. Lamar Smith of Texas, will continue to mark up the bill in February, effectively putting the legislation back on the table. And, even more likely, if it cannot be passed into law in its current form it will added into other future legislation; legislation against which it will be even more difficult to rally congressional opposition.
There is much too much say about the intricate web of influence bearing down on this legislation (the poster child for this is the newly minted CEO of the MPAA and astoudingly hypocritical Former Senator Chris Dodd) from movie and music industry lobbies to video game developers and publishers. Not surprisingly, this is a bipartisan effort fueled by the coffers of entertainment industry lobbyists to secure complete regulatory capture over the public's interest in creative works. Not only solidifying their control over the law, but the enforcement of those laws as well.
Infuriating as the legislative situation may be, I was more intrigued by the notions of another commentator, a man who is invisible to lawmakers, the mass media and, well, just about everyone else too out of touch with the Internet to comprehend it without some kind of grossly oversimplified and utterly misunderstood analogy. That man is Maddox, pre-blog era blogger and creator of The Best Page in the Universe™. Known primarily for his take-downs of pop culture icons (i.e. Joan Rivers, Jar-Jar Binks, etc...) or his indignant and incendiary backlash against duplicitous and fraudulent internet businesses. He's the foul-mouthed, spitfire contrarian most people would prefer to ignore forever. But buried within the satirical sass lies the seeds of bitter truths.
Maddox's current page has a rant with a large title splashed across which states "I Hope SOPA Passes." Why, you ask? It's not because Maddox owns a multimedia empire vulnerable to those pesky digital pirates. Quite the opposite. He's a small blogger who is able to keep "above water" from the revenues from his online store. Maddox's satirical appropriation of images or clips from other copyrighted works are key elements his commentary. Such is the case with most content creators on the Internet. It's the protest itself he finds unpalatable. He wants SOPA to pass...
Because that's exactly what we need to wake up from this slumbering, do-nothing, "occupy everything," stagnant, non-action slump we Americans are in.
He goes onto pointing out the other types of things this protest culture believes:
- Boycotting gas for a day makes a difference. It doesn't. Delaying when you buy gas by a day only broadcasts your intentions to oil speculators so they can profit. And the oil still gets purchased a day before or after anyway.
- Neurotically recycling every single shred of garbage in your home makes a difference. It doesn't. Even if you, your neighbors, and everyone you've ever met recycled everything and reduced your waste output to zero, it wouldn't even make an observable impact on overall waste production in the world. Household waste and garden residue account for less than 3% of all waste produced in the US. That's less than the average statistical margin of error, and most people don't even come close to producing zero waste.
- Changing your profile picture on Facebook will get people to: A) stop abusing kids B) stop molesting kids C) stop killing kids and D) do anything.
- Signing an online petition, or changing the front page of your website to protest SOPA will fix anything.
The kind of irrationality Maddox rails against has been described by Slovenian Philosopher Slavoj Zizek as "fetishistic disavowal." He clarifies this as the the way in which we know our behavior is not actually having the desired effect, but we continue to do it and act as though it does anyways. This is the same tendency that like to call "theater." For example, the increased presence and authority of the TSA in domestic airports. They are agents of the security state designated to catch potential terrorists on domestic flights, but have failed to catch even one terrorist. This is a kind of "security theater" wherein we employ thousands of agents, and spend hundreds of millions of dollars, to give us the impression of security, in the absence of evidence that they really accomplish the goal of increased security. In fact, the TSA's own "Top 10 Good Catches of 2011" were forgetful or clueless, yet innocent, people. I am also fond of describing "dog poop theater," wherein a dog owner must pretend to pick up poop off of a strangers lawn if the canine didn't defecate, for fear that someone will see them if they don't pick up "the poop." But, I digress.
This "disavowal" is, at its core, rooted in our ideologies. It is a kind of faith we place in overarching narratives about causality, about the outcomes of our actions. But more importantly, the narratives about our own agency in the world. Us humans are perpetually caught between the contradictory notions that we are ultimately helpless to larger forces at play in the universe and simultaneously the boundless masters of our own destiny. Our ideologies create the lens through which we view this contradiction, and either empower us to action or comfort us in our misfortune.
My answer to this, and my rebuttal to Maddox, is that while we should be critical of over-praising ourselves as saviors but we should celebrate every little victory we achieve, even if the victory is merely symbolic. The SOPA win is praiseworthy and significant, just the same as the Occupy movement, because it brings new issues to light, new discussions to the fore. But, we should not go to sleep afterward and become complacent. And we should never be afraid to dream, for in dreams possibility is without limit and only from dreams that humanity's true marvels have been realized.
“A conspiracy is nothing but a secret agreement of a number of men for the pursuance of policies which they dare not admit in public”