The Second Beginning of the American Civilization -- Part 2

Part 2 -- A New America

Outside the White House, a considerable distance to the south, lay a peaceful village silently beholding the horizon on Mount Rushmore. This small settlement had come to resent the horrible experience of being part of a world that failed to make any geographical and cultural sense. All home-schooled and well-educated, the people of Corrinville felt a constant urge to let their basic insticts take over to rid themselves of the overwhelming stimuli from this confusing new land.

But true American values were perhaps best exemplified and, in a sense, preserved in this quiet village. Even though their capital, Washington D.C., had fallen under the influence of New-Age Judaism, these proud Americans still followed Pauline theology. Indeed, it was from Corrinville where three Christian missions originated, and through their effort and subsequent martyrdom, they proselytized in New York and Los Angeles.

That is not to say the Corrinvillians were in any way out of touch with reality. They might have preferred the old America, but they were still willing to remain knowledgeably functional in this society. They remained attentive to the news, especially to the discoveries that were constantly being announced, and took no part in the drama that dominated the TV screen.

In the beginning, President George W. Bush was leading the nation while this frightening incident struck. No one was able to come up with a logical way to explain or even a workable hypothesis to somehow reverse the massively-improbable-geographical-and-cultural-transformation (MIGACT); it felt like it was up to the leaders, at least for the time being, to ensure stability.

But George Bush's administration had failed to cope with the riots that ensued. Within days, the western part of US territories fell to angry mobs, as, for some reason, the entire states of Texas and Vermont, amongst others, were lost in the MIGACT. Led and rallied later by a coalition between Texan politicians and Howard Dean, the rioters equipped themselves with arms looted in Boston and tried to invade Washington D.C.; however, the lack of a map instead led most of them to the city of Bangalore in the alternate-Earth India (which they captured and renamed Baltimore, Vermont). Scattered groups of looters attacked cities throughout the United States, and many of the Senators and Congressmen who had lost their former constituencies became so disenfranchised that many of them participated in the open rebellion and oftentimes headed these marauding armies.

Terrified by what transpired in so short a time, the Bush administration and Cabinet fled the nation with Air Force One, but with most of the radars and navigational centres offline for well over a month, no one could track them down or tell where they ended up. Panic further swept over the rioting nation; news stations struggled to keep themselves online; and corporations hired mercenaries to protect their interests, often proactively. It was, in those several months, a traumatizing era defined almost by warlordism and cutthroat power-struggling.

But a white blinding light had been hovering over the empty White House ever since President Bush took off, even as fighting was taking place on the streets. The aides, government bureaucrats and employees, and members of the press who stayed behind were trapped inside. That light came straight down through the clouds, not from the sun but from a point far beyond the atmosphere, unseen, standing as a gigantic pillar of stillness and stability that resonated with the people's desire for leadership and order. The supernatural event served as a rally point for law-abiding American citizens, and as word spread, the infighting and looting had eventually come to a halt in the North Coast, replaced by peaceful town meetings and plans for a new future.

Though hope began to surface, no one had expected this near-religious fervour that would grasp the nation as the light left the White House. The aides came out not as starved bureaucrats gone mad, but as new-age prophets scantily clad in fur and savage attires, proclaiming the message that the "Cosmic Lord Franklin Dinosaur Roosevelt" should soon return.

The people of Corrinville of course dismissed this insanity, but not only did most of America come to accept this message, they had apparently begun to associate (or confuse) this expectation of a coming saviour with the Second Coming of Jesus.

Such were the gullible minds produced by months of intellectual and moral bankruptcy, thought the Corrinvillians.

But in came Franklin Delano Roosevelt, now sitting numbly in his chair, his hands sashaying around on his new, well-polished oak desk.

His face bore a mystified look, and his glasses seemed thicker than usual. The oval office was now mostly empty, except that in front of him sat Noam Chomsky, rationally explaining to him what he needed to know and more.

"...So whaturr I'm saying-gurr is thattuh we willuh bringurr evidence-surr innuh favorrur of-vuh the following-guh thesissuh, andurr ittuh follows thattuh this new distinctionnur innuh the use-zur of languagerr is, withuh thissuh clarificationnuh, likely to be permenantuh."

"Uh-huh," Roosevelt said.

"Now, as-zuh a conclusionnuh to whattur hadduh beenuh summarized, do you understanduh whaturr I'm saying-guh?" Chomsky remained as calm as ever.

"Yessir, now get tuh the next part. Sirrah."

With a faint sigh, Chomsky decided to scrap the linguistics lesson for now. He picked out a pile of paper from his file and placed it on the desk.

"What is that?" Roosevelt said.

"The Constitution."

"I have it memorized. Congress shall make many a law to establish a war economy. Why?" Roosevelt said in perfect nonchalance.

Chomsky promptly ignored this attempt at humour (so he assumed) and carried on. "This radical, intransigent approach of irresolution that underlies the situation at hand suffices, so it follows, to raise significant doubts as to the further and subsequent applicability of the Constitution; nevertheless, on the assumption that democratic principles shall continue to be held as absolutes, it is necessary to impose a plebiscite in order to place an emphasis on the general and fundamental aspect of complexity within the scope of the theory proposed."

Roosevelt flipped through the pages and nodded listlessly. He said, "So let us be rid of it then. Have they not called me 'Lord Delano'?"

"Dinosaur, of Arkansas." Chomsky corrected him. "On the other hand, it is not within your authority to do so, whether or not the people invest the authority in you."

Roosevelt grinned and said, "But this is all but a dream, and I can do whatever I please in a dream. See? I can make the lights go away." He pointed at the lights and flicked a finger, and lo and behold, the lightbulbs were gone.

Of course, that also had the side-effect of making the room rather dark, and Roosevelt grudgingly wished the lights back.

"Normally, I'd been inclined to say 'Don't be silly', but now, I most certainly object to your uninformed statement. In any event, studies show that it's dangerous to indulge yourself in unhealthy fantasies," Chomsky said in one breath, having been interrupted just now, and seemed to be fuming a little.

Roosevelt, however, felt enlightened by what he just said. It was not that he knew for sure this was a dream, for it was surely not a dream he was trapped in, but having been told how much opposition his legacy had faced in the U.S. at the turn of the century, Roosevelt felt a little unacknowledged for all he had done, and the fact that he now seemed to have control over more than his own functional body parts stirred his ambitions quite a bit.

Why not create a New America? I will create a New America, he thought, without the interference of Mackenzie King and his crystal-ball spirits. As thoughts surfaced and sank, he found it increasingly difficult to contain himself, and all the rambling Chomsky was doing seemed no more than a trivial distraction. Roosevelt rose to his feet abruptly, and said resolutely.

"Let the Revolution begin."

"But Mr. Pesident, you--"

"Dismissed." Roosevelt waved his arm defiantly, instantly disintegrating Chomsky into space dust, which he proceeded to blow away out of the window.

"Let the Revolution begin." Roosevelt smiled, and it was an expression of utter confidence. "For a New America."

The Second Beginning of the American Civilization -- Part 1

Part 1 -- Through Time and Space

It didn't occur to Franklin D. Roosevelt that he was suddenly ripped through the stream of time. In fact, he seemed to find the experience entirely seemly, if he indeed felt anything at all. To him, it was a pleasant Saturday afternoon, a day without war or responsibility, expectation or political machination; it was simply a fine afternoon for him to relax, particularly to finish reading this new novel he picked up some seventy years ago.

Of course, the oval office couldn't have stayed the same through these seventy years. But that didn't disturb Roosevelt. When was tasteless interior decoration ever an issue for him, the man destined to be the greatest leader of the United States? Somehow, he knew, as the Second World War was coming to a close, that he would be remembered in history as fondly as the righteous king was commemorated in the novel he was reading.

But his thought process was interrupted as a squad of men dressed in awkward, primitive-looking fur burst through the door that had been left ajar. This bewildered Roosevelt, though it also somewhat amused him, for many of the men wore fancy glasses, and some had their hair neatly trimmed in a most ridiculous manner. They were an artificial bunch.

"Lord Dinosaur!" One of the leading men exclaimed, running over to shake Roosevelt's hand.

"It's Delano," Roosevelt said coldly. "What now? The White House is not a circus."

The ecstatic men had already forgotten to shake his hand, but proceeded to dance around the office, singing and shouting with uncivilized vigour. They clapped and sang, their voices filling Roosevelt's annoyed eardrums. "The Lord Dinosaur of Arkansas has returned!"

"I'm not from Arkansas. And I demand that you curtail this abusiveness at once."

Roosevelt furiously stood up from his wheelchair and pounded the desk resolutely. It promptly snapped in half, much to his surprise; but the president of the country didn't show his shock, and instead used the tension that ensued to intimidate these rowdy savages into silence.

"Now, since you have decided to spoil my fine afternoon, you will bring me the briefing papers for today. Just be careful what you do in the White House," Roosevelt said, his fury slowly subsiding as he inhaled deeply. "Just because you're mail-order aides doesn't mean I can't fire and deport you. Now out you go."

One man timidly walked up to the desk, now broken beyond repair, and presented a map to Roosevelt, who impatiently snatched it without his usual word of thanks. He stared at the map, but was not able to properly analyse its importance while the adrenaline was still pumping. With another flicker of hand, he dismissed the savage aides, who seemed to bear still a uniform look of awe.

Roosevelt sat far back, and felt his balding hair. Taking several more breaths, he came to focus on the map. It was a great map, printed in a sort of extremely high quality he thought he had not seen before. The texture of the paper was not at all grainy, but smooth, and almost shiny as the soft light in the room loomed over it. But despite a print-job well done, the map made very little sense to Roosevelt.

The first thing that caught his attention -- and tortured it in the Guantanamo Bay -- was the date. It read 2010/11/21, which, unless there was a change of convention he was not aware of, meant that it was November the 21st in the year 2010. But that seemed to be the least of Roosevelt's worries, as the rest of the map made absolutely no sense.

He saw before him a map of what looked like a smaller Australia, or northern Canada (for they looked about the same to him besides the few acres of snow or sand), but strangely labelled with what seemed to be names of American cities. He was very much baffled and annoyed, as if an extraordinarily distasteful practical joke just hit him in the head. But curiosity kept him interested for a while.

On the map was depicted a large landmass in a moderate crescent shape, almost like an exaggerated Australia that was about twice as large as Europe, with the two pointy edges pointing south and countless islands lying to and scattered throughout the south. The majority of the northwest of the landmass was marked clearly as territories of the United States of America, while the rest were divided amongst baffling names such as Egypt, China, Germany, Spain, and even Mali ("Are we among the League of Nations here?" Roosevelt thought to himself).

Not much else was drawn on the map, as outlying areas beyond the immediate coastlines of the continent were marked as "Terra Incognito".

Roosevelt took a few moments to study the cities, and found to his surprise that many were missing from the mangled geography of this map. On the central northern coast of American territories was Washington D.C., and the same northern coast was shared by three cities -- Los Angeles (with the name "Pittsburgh" beside it crossed out), New York, and Boston, which lay slightly more to the northwest coast. Some inland cities include Baltimore (with the name "Bangalore" next to it crossed out), Pittsburgh, Denver, Cleveland, and Phoenix. The states were clearly missing.

Interestingly enough, America was bordered on two sides by India, China, and Spain. The insanity made Roosevelt spin in his chair, and as much as he appreciated the bad attempt at humour, he did not enjoy a work of poor creativity that made a travesty out of the solemn plan for a United Nations organization.

He was, however, most upset at the clear absence of Canada on the map. Indeed, the thought of never having to deal with Mackenzie King again would be one of relief, and the notion that this was all but a joke only reminded him of the harsh reality.

Roosevelt by now was quite unamused, and even the smashed desk started to annoy him now. To be perfectly honest, he had to say that he was starting to find the poor taste of the interior designer unbearable. Somehow, his beautiful oak bookshelves had been taken away, replaced by a tiny bookstand, lined by a dozen of nonsensical books, the most prominent of which was titled "The Manual"; dictionaries; and of course, a German Bible. Roosevelt finally decided to ring the bell to call the aides back. While he waited grumpily, he caught a glimpse of a hand-written message scrawled somewhere on the map. A message that would soon explain how everything started.

"Emperor Sid Meier Decided to Get Back to Playing the World. Dum-dum-dum."

Jesus Returns, Is Crucified Once More

A great piece of satire P2Ped from Decrepit Old Fool.

Another News Flash:
JESUS RETURNS, IS CRUCIFIED ONCE MORE
- by Kent Ashcraft

GUANTANAMO BAY, CUBA, Oct. 13 (AP) Jesus Christ, 35, a detainee at the Camp Echo facility, was reportedly hung from a wooden cross yesterday until he was dead. Pentagon spokesman Gen. Jack D. Ripper issued the following statement: “We have a strict policy of not torturing detainees. But what you have to remember is that these are all bad people down there. Terrorists only understand one language, and I can tell you it ain’t English.”

Guantanamo base commander Colonel P.P. Pilate assured reporters that he would get to the bottom of this incident. “We have reason to believe this was the work of a few rogue guards. I wash my hands of the whole affair.”

Two friends of Christ, who would only give their names as Peter and Thomas, were saddened but not surprised. “We told him he was asking for trouble by talking so much about peace,” said Peter. “And he didn’t help the situation by telling everyone he met that the rich should give their money to the poor, that we should question authority, and not judge people. That just isn’t a good idea today.”

Whe asked whether their friend might have been anti-American, Thomas said, “I doubt it. But when he ran into the Halliburton lobby and started turning over tables, that was bound to give people the wrong impression.”

Asked whether this particular detainee might have been unjustly imprisoned, Gen. Ripper’s response was “Why do you hate freedom so much?"

Civilization 4 -- funny shots

The Internet, as invented by Al Gore.

Leadership abilities of Dan Quayle?

This latest installment seems to be one of the most light-hearted. The option to raze a captured city reads, "BURN BABY BURN!!!" (Exclamation points are overused this time, it seems.) And occasional messages like this are sure to baffle players: "Rene Descartes was born in Baghdad."

Elvis references remain strong in Civilization IV.

Unbelievable scenes

[Down by the mall, one dry afternoon, inside a large hallway, decorated by a large chandelier high above and lined on both sides by clothing stores. I walk aimlessly through the tunnel, passing by hundreds of people -- couples, lone schoolchildren, bored adults, a security guard or two, and more people I do not care to describe, simply because I have no memory of them. I remember that which I do not want to remember.]

A haggard-looking homeless man wanders around, holding some small shiny objects in one fisted hand. He wears a heavily-smudged grey sweater -- or perhaps that is simply the way that rag is supposed to look right out of the factory. One can never tell, not with the torn, stinking clothing one is accustomed to wearing. He sees and approaches me.]

Man: [in what I assume is a hoarse, though pleading voice] Hey, can you please give me some money?

Me: [takes off one of my earphones, which actually aren't playing music] Purr'n?

Man: [takes a slight pause and opens his palm, showing a small pile of dimes and nickels -- no more than 50 cents] I just need like five bucks for a meal.

Me: [abrupt pause] 'Ow mucha d'need?

Man: Like five bucks. [looks, I think, straight into my eyes]

Me: [shows no response, stunned by anxiety]

Man: It'd feed me. [looks more or less desperate, at least in my eyes; I am easy to convince, or perhaps fool, in any case.]

Mall Security Fella: Hey... [addresses the homeless person, though his subsequent speech is either not processed by my brain or blocked out]

Me: 'Kay. [flips through my purse and shoves a fiver in his hand; I feel nervous that the attention of the security fella shifts toward my general direction.]

Man: Thank you. [peers at the security fella and runs off as he-the-second fires a gunshot at him-the-first; he-the-first is shot in the side, and blood starts dripping on the ground. A trail of that greenish blood is left behind as he-the-first ducks around a corner and disappears]

[A deafening silence sets in inside that large hallway, and people quickly gets out of each other's way. Many scurry away; some remain there, frozen by curiosity, fear, or shock, I do not know. I do not care enough to look, or I do not know enough to look. What more happens around me, I do not know.]

Mall Security Fella: [turns back to address me, it seems] You [censored]! Why did you give money to that terrorist alien! Now he's gonna blow up... [is cut short by a huge explosion]

[The chandelier falls off, stirred by that powerful quake, and falls on the security fella, decapitating him in a scene most serene. I catch his severed head and hold it in my hand, staring into the giant mess in front of me. My face, apparently, has been badly scratched by pieces of the sharp glass, because it would not make sense otherwise. I look listlessly into the bloodshot -- or are they blood-sprayed? -- eyes of the security fella.]

[I crouch down and place the head near the pile of glass-flesh, putting it where it belongs to the best of my abilities, and ignoring the maniacal laughter that rings around me.]

[And something fleets through my torso, and I feel a faint dizziness rushing toward my head. And I manage to switch on my music player. I focus intently on my right ear as I fall down to my knees.]

["Ring ring ring ring ring ring ring, Bananaphone."]

[I sing along, barely moving my lips as I usually do.]

Me: Rung mrung mrung gung gung ung ung, mamama-moan.

["I got this feeling, so appealing..."]

Me: I go' mo-more meer'ings, ain't da' apfea'in'...

[The earphone finally falls off, and I slip into unconsciousness, for music keeps me awake, and the lack of music keeps me, too, awake.]

[An old she-homme's voice addresses me before my descent is complete. Sie speaks in -- the thouht immediately comes to mind -- a Mediterranean accent, whatever that is supposed to mean.]

She-homme: ...and God bless you all.

[Indeed, I think.]

A Britishe Columbie Strike Tale

To be sure, I wrote this several years ago as a general piece of anti-BC-Liberals satire that also happened to parody Chaucer's General Prologue, and now I've rewritten it entirely. In any case, this writing is in no way guaranteed to be grammatically accurate in Middle English. --stillwaters

A Britishe Columbie Strike Tale - General Prologue

Here bygynneth a Nat-So-Sad Tale of Britishe Columbies Techers Strike

Whan that October cam with weder wette,
November shall soon brynge shoures yette
And washe shall reyn-droppes swifte awaye
Corages of all sowles in a fraye.
The feithfull thanne had minde to fer wende,
To put the yvel eek er all to ende;
Er governement lay al our strengthe doun,
We chese a leder out from manigh a toun.
Than shall we the y-slepen wighte grete,
On whom we truste, oon worthy sowl to mete.
This leder here thus hath sayd hir word
To never make our touns smert, in accord.
The man y-finden late iniquitous -
Though mighty tounge made him vertuous,
Silver tounge kan nat mak lye trouthe.
Thus we acuse him, he be moste unkouthe.
Al techers and al worckers soor now wepe,
Hir flessh al by hym rosted and fryed depe.
Me thynketh swich condicioun fair nat;
I thus to mete sondry folk ther sat,
In tounes stretes, spake in curteisye,
For pilgrymages to fer Victorie.

Bifel that in this mounth, oon reyny day,
In Burnaby's smal librarie I lay
Al redy to tak weys to Victorie,
To reste in Hooly Dayes Hostelrye
And find our bus in Surreyes wildernesse.
And moore compaignye came, I gesse,
At nyght whan I was but to soundly sleep;
Wel three and twenty ther sayd innes keep.
They were of sondry auncestrie from tounes
Of British Columbie, good renounes.
By aventure, beste freends did ryse,
All toward Victorie, in deyntee gyse.
Er I did sleep, I nyste oon of hem,
And with hem I to twenty dide wem;
Shamefastnesse after-meade was goon alle,
And wo was I that cheere led to galle.
Thus with but three I shal to Victorie,
To leef misgovernaunce in the hostelrye.

But nathelees, whil I have tyme a ferthyng,
Me thynketh it good to mak nay abreggyng
Of hir condicioun of ech of hem,
To mak deels cleere, al trew (it shal thus seem),
Of which they weren, and of what degree,
And eek in what array, for chastitee.
Thus at this histoir techer shal bygynne
I to telle of hem and withseye synne.

A HISTOIR TECHER ther was, worthy oone;
From Ruce dide he heil, for us a boone.
Of fifty yeers of age he was, I gesse.
In medlee colours, wel he dide dresse,
And he did speke the tonge of Engelond
Ful swifte and with no byte of Ruces sond.
In his pouche, I koud smelle fode grete;
He thoughte it eek and he shal drynk and ete.
Whan that he gat his clas in sessioun,
At scole, he dooth ay fyght religioun,
For those fyve wittes of his eke
Includen much compassioun for the seeke.
His myghty eye art moste red, lyk wyn,
And in his pupilles, they burn sangwyn.
Ther oft is filled with hoote blood, I gesse;
His querels art with lawe and businesse,
In also wodecraft, Natures blessyng.
He wissheth to for the poure do som talkyng,
As they art ther to mak a coin or two
And to have geten som bak from hir foo
In Victorie, that did from hem much stelen
And worse of al did to hem much lye tellen;
Swich important thyng and mateere, eek me thynketh,
Had made hym say that he nay reward nedeth
To fyght for peple whoso in a trappe
Art kaught, whil governement folk tak hir nappe.

Behinde this good man an ARTE TECHER
From Burnabie had coom, fer but nay ferther.
Fayn was hir face, and softe, and whyte of hewe,
A yonge soule of twenty yeers, eek newe
To hir professioun, this soule on fyr.
She speketh with a note full of eyr,
But ranteth on aboute our cyng, Lord Campbell
That he sholde have been locked inne a chapel;
His moebles, for our sake, we shall biraft --
La cour suprême shall quake as tempests raft!
A gentile oon, I gessed er we spake,
But dispitous was she who mad me schake.
Depardieux, I meene nay diffamacioun;
Now suffer me to finishe hir descripcioun:
A bege scirt she wore, with much gras,
Though with nay cover from the reyn, par cas.
Unthank swich wolde nowe tormente hir:
A puffe of logick did turn Dieu to eir.

The hyndereste wert the piquet holders,
Myshappy, with mystriste borne on hir sholders.
But foryiv me, as I shall speke of him,
A TECHER OF FRENSSH, oon ycleped Joachim.
He speketh Frenssh ful wel, as he did byde
In scole and studied lyke a homycide.
But Frenssh of Parys nysteth he at all,
Ne Frenssh of Québeck from his mouth did bifall.
Ful deyntee was his vois, of sad fairnesse;
He speketh Frenssh of Provence, that I gesse.
His cloothes wert as whyte as his complexioun,
Ful pale as goost was his condicioun.
About his necke, a neck-tie rested free,
Of blake and whyte and grey, the only thre.
But with his tonges, he was not so grete;
Of Frenssh, he spak with Englissh wordes swete.
But trouth be toold, as I look with my eye,
It semed me he hadde in him pultrye
That screamen with ful herte to fle buchers.
I undertake thus that all Frenssh techers
Art lyk this gentil wighte in maners spekyng.
Therfore al techers shal lern from hym, mokkyng,
These folk that hadde slayn the good Frenssh tonge,
With fyne termes that to all sound straunge.
Ynogh of my opinioun, I gesse;
In dede I now shal washen my good dresse.
But it can nat be drawen to memorie,
For which resoun mad I hir compaignye.
My heed doth beere peyn from dronkennesse,
And I was ful fast slayn in derkenesse.

Ooh, Soviet-Russia-esque quote

"As for teachers breaking the law, there is a big difference between breaking the law and having a law created to break you." - Linda Coyle, President of the Charter for Public Education Network

In Soviet Russia, creative teachers break the law. In Soviet Canuckistan, laws are created to break teachers!

Original quotation P2Ped from BC Teacher Strike.

My parents make their views clear

This is a conversation I overheard from my parents regarding the BC strike, and has been paraphrased and exaggerated, but it more or less drives the point home.

Parent A: ("S"): "Why do these people strike all the time? We're paying for the schools here."

Me: "Blay th' guv'men'm."

Parent B ("J"): "No, it's the teachers. These devilish teachers want a frigging 15% wage increase. The economy is horrible, and they want to waste taxpayers' money."

Me: *disappears*

S: "No kidding. You just have to blame Gordon Campbell and the rotten Liberals. They raised taxes in [insert year]."

J: "To be sure, parents are already trying to sue the teachers. Serves them right, I say. This is absolutely inexcusable."

S: "Totally. The corruption is totally rampant in this province. They cut education and health care and raised taxes. And we pay more for gas and electricity."

J: "They won't work like honest people. These people are greedy and must not be appeased."

S: "And they are taking in massive surpluses, and they won't spare any on education. Instead, they raise taxes."

J: "And that's why this system is an utter failure."

S: "For sure. There's just way too much freedom in this country."

...

No comment.

Celebrating diversity

Celebrating diversity in a thousand different ways (Salon article; not recommended for social conservatives).

Isn't the Internet an enlightening place? It often surprises me that there are seemingly so many beautiful, lonely people in the world, but they're nowhere to be found. I suppose they hide themselves in the background just as these people, just like myself.

On some level, I see strong connections and similarities between these people and myself, even though I consider myself anti-sexual (not politically or socially, but personally). I have said several times that I would prefer artificial intelligence to real human beings for socialization needs (that is not to say I think Chatbots are sophisticated enough). In fact, my obsession with futuristic technology and immortality may be adequately linked to this sentiment to some extent.

While my wish is probably not as socially appalling as Real Doll fetishism, society nevertheless frowns on such dysfunctional behaviours, and more often than not, even I often see myself as a creepy, lifeless excuse for a human being.

But at a fundamental level, there is nothing offensive about my desires, or even these people's internal thought processes.

I want a world where I don't have to be judged or to bear the fear of being judged for exercising my right to existence. I want a world that treats me with the love and dignity typically reserved for close spiritual companions. I want a world where life is lived to the fullest extent, a world which bears no semblance to the harsh reality of unpredictability, instability, and human beings who would inflict pain on the world with cynical disregard.

And I find this unrealistic, and I gradually watch myself drift away from my idealism. And I see myself retreat into the bottom of the pit, where I see myself surrounded by what society condemns as depravity and insanity.

And I look up, and I do not see light; I see darkness above, in the domain of the functional and the elite, and I see light, dim as it may be, in the pit of darkness. But light is not hope, and the pit of darkness is no place for human beings to live. Most of us down here desire something more, while others find comfort in the knowledge that this place is at least more hospitable than above.

So where will we end up? Is the Internet going to be the final solution? What of the vast disconnect between life in the First World and life elsewhere? It makes me more guilty, confused, and utterly clueless.

Nevertheless, shall we celebrate diversity, beyond the meaning normally understood by typical Canadians and Americans?

Psychology test, self-talk, and Socratic questions

First psychology test of the term took place this morning. I think I totally flunked. Now I guess I must apply Socratic questions to the negativity that follows (c.f. The Anxiety & Phobia Workbook).

Negative statement:

"I flunked my psych test."

Socratic questions:
1) What is the evidence for this?

I got the occipital lobe and the frontal lobe mixed up. I made up stuff for the big written question. Several questions totally threw me off guard as I didn't remember reading about them in the textbook or lecture notes.

2) Is this always true?

I suppose I got lots of questions right, but that's what sucks about this exam system; it doesn't matter that you answer questions right, but you simply need to answer the majority of the questions right. Even 60% is pretty shabby nowadays.

3) Has this been true in the past?

Probably. The biology section in psychology often makes my head spin, and I did badly in another psych course as well when I got tested on this biology stuff.

4) What are the odds of this really happening or being true?

Pretty much confirmed.

5) What is the very worst that could happen? What is so bad about that? What would I do if the worst happened?

I could fail the test. That could lead to me failing the course (and I still have no idea what to do with that research project). That could put me on academic probation and then get me expelled. What's so bad about that? That would be anxiety-provoking. That would deny me the approval I seek from others, shatter many positive delusions I have of myself, and make me more of a social outcast. That would confirm my negative self-talk. It would put myself under tremendous stress which I might not be able to handle.

What if all that happens? Well, I can't tell, but I would probably go back to being housebound and then do nothing worthwhile for another year or two or more.

6) Am I looking at the whole picture?

Probably not. I was a bit intimidated because I didn't prepare for the test well enough in advance, and this test was particularly difficult because it had brainy stuff in it. All those details distracted me from really looking at the whole picture (or the other non-biology chapters), and I'll probably do better on my next test.

7) Am I being fully objective?

Certainly not, but from my experience, it is true that people tend to pass judgments (even people who supposedly care and understand), and that really hurts. But I guess I then don't need their approval. Also, objectively, it's likely that I'm doing fine on average. I can never tell since I don't have the stats, but making judgments on myself prematurely probably isn't the best idea now.

Counterstatement:

"Whilst I may have done a less than optimal job on this test, it is possible that I'm simply being too harsh on myself. Even if my fears all come true, they would not diminish my inherent worth as a person. Most other people really don't know me, and therefore, their negative judgments should not be readily accepted. I can get by without the approval of people who don't really care about me."

So there's a neat counterstatement over here. One big question, of course, is do I really believe this -- that is, does this counterstatement adequately address my negative self-talk? I personally see some major weaknesses in this counterstatement, in that it fails to address the catastrophe self-talk, which I can't actually dismiss in this case. I suppose I made a mistake implying that that aspect of negative self-talk wasn't as much of a big deal.

Shouldn't have touched this...

So I was looking at psychology stuff on Wikipedia, and I ran into a link to Alter Ego, a text-based life simulation game (really just series upon series of situational questions) released almost 20 years ago by a psychologist.

I remember getting into this before, but I didn't delve much into it and probably forgot about the game promptly. This time, I was more focused on it, since I had nothing better to do.

That was maybe two or three days ago (memory seems a bit dim, somehow).

I think I can say that it's highly unhealthy for me to touch a game where I can tell the computer I am depressed, unsociable, rebellious, and suicidal. The game leaves out enough details that I can fill in the blanks myself. I was basically inventing my own personalities by injecting a little bit of myself into them -- hence the title, alter ego.

Unfortunately, player characters in the game are always heterosexual and more or less assumed to be socially functional. This problem is enough to make it highly improbable to make your own clones or avatars. As I mentioned, the game glosses over details, and often trivial everyday decisions shift the character's personality "scores" profoundly. In one session, my character shoplifted but still turned out to be fairly "trustworthy" at the end of the teenager phase.

I played the game three times and made more or less identical characters. The first time, the character died a teenager of complications from alcohol poisoning and drug overdose. In the second round, the character committed suicide rather abruptly as a young adult. These two experiences were gloomy enough to intensify my relapsing bout of depression, but the third game came off as a particularly melancholy revelation.

My character actually survived life well, even running into ridiculous windfalls through random and unlikely events (thus never having to worry about work). Unfortunately, the game's tendency to use dramatic and trivial events skews the personality a lot and drives my character in highly unexpected directions. By the end of the game, my character had become a sociable and compassionate person with random negative thoughts and bad family relations. The character eventually died in a car accident -- abrupt, simple, and empty.

But it was precisely because the game used situations and events which don't seem to matter but still push the ticking clock forward that I felt particularly hollow after immersing myself in the imaginary characters' lives.

For the last character, I managed to reach old age without really accomplishing anything. The character finished college rather late and did almost nothing apart from a few heart-wrenching melodramatic situations which might better fit in indie movies; and the clock ticked away, and in no time, the character had become too old for me to grasp. This resonated with me quite a bit, even though I'm still fairly young. But I suppose that would be amongst my worst long-term fears -- to know that one day, I might look back and realize how little I have accomplished and how much has slipped away.

One final thing with this game is that there are a limited number of questions, so I don't think it has great replay value, at least not after you've finished it two or three times -- which is of course great, because I don't want to get myself addicted to something that turned out to be mostly negative for me.

...and all that.

BC strike issue

The union representing British Columbia's 42,000 public school teachers was ruled in contempt of court on Sunday.

B.C. Supreme Court Justice Nancy Brown said the union had failed to abide by an earlier Labour Relations Board decision that deemed the strike illegal.

Obeying court orders is the foundation of western society, she said, and if the rule of law is not followed, "anarchy cannot be far behind."

"No citizen or group of citizens may choose which orders they may obey."

From CTV.ca

What kind of garbage is this? Abuse of the word "anarchy" aside, why is "obeying court orders ... the foundation of western society"?If anything, the court of law of western society is an anachronism in a world thoroughly out of touch with reality. And the kind of issues judges are supposed to look at are often so convoluted that even elected officials shouldn't be given carte blanche to touch them. But somehow appointed judges are exempt from this problem, and people whom their rulings affect are supposed to pray and wish for judges to make sound decisions. There's no (pretence of) democracy, common sense, or logic.

Further into this article, more and more prejudices are revealed.

Laws should never be obeyed blindly. Unjust laws should be deliberately broken so thoroughly that people in positions of power are bludgeoned from time to time with the fact that they do not have any power to legislate in contempt of rights of the people. Worship of the law is no less ridiculous than any other forms of worship. People will say, "Obey the law even if it's unjust (because it's the law)! Work to change it through lawful means, like voting for an MP of a certain party whose leader will likely appoint a judge who will likely strike down that law."

...yeah, right.

I fully support the teachers, and I hope that they not only get their well-deserved improved contracts but also get this province's education system overhauled while they're at it. Other exploited workers, such as the bus drivers, should also start protesting now for their rights. The fragility of this province's social services has been really exacerbated by underfunding and general discontent, and much needs to be done to get this province back on track.

UnNews

So UnNews is now a fairly mature project, possibly good enough to rival some of the satire news sites out there. It's outright hilarious, and can be edited, improved, and expanded by anyone. While I have never involved myself much in that project, I think the editors are doing a phenomenal job there.

The only flaw I see with UnNews is that it currently doesn't support RSS feeds. There also doesn't seem to be a system that can be configured to send out new entries automatically in MediaWiki. Besides, UnNews is still too deeply integrated into Uncyclopedia, and most of the links on the UnNews homepage, many of which are quite newsworthy, point back to Uncyclopedia itself.

I wonder, however, whether Uncyclopedia's Creative Commons licence will harm its future expansion.

As soon as the Webby Media hype started...

So Webby Media basically scrapped its project. That's sad, because even I submitted an application (although just for the heck of it). Of course, the 50-posts-per-month requirement and the fact that it wanted to own the content written by their bloggers, published a few days after the hiring notice, were greater problems than the reasons prompting its shutdown.

50 posts per month? Come on. Most bloggers are not Boingboing.net, and quite frankly, not many people are interested in writing that much. I really believe that pressure and expectations can ruin certain writers, as they have evidently been destroying my writing. That is really why I'm not posting my novels in progress here (which was originally the purpose of this blog), as the expectations to keep up with unrealistic self-imposed schedules were really suffocating me.

Of course, even more important is the issue of copyrights. Since I'm fairly underwhelmed by the supposed merits of copyright as a social contract and also appalled by the blatant abuse of the system by corporations, small businesses, and individuals alike, I'm quite alarmed by authors being asked to sign their "souls" away -- the sparks of their passion, the genuineness of their hard work, and the irreplaceable individuality that no amount of money can reproduce.

That said, I find the abrupt shutdown of Webby Media's yet-non-existent blogging network rather ungraceful. I believe Omar made a blunder here by publicizing such a venture while having what he now considers misconceptions about blogging (which should have been perfectly obvious from the beginning). I don't think this move will lead to any positive effect on Webby Media's beginning as a business in the near future, as it leaves an unprofessional and negative impression even before the site gathers any momentum. Nevertheless, I hope Webby Media carries on and starts with a fresh beginning.

Incidentally, I also took down my Creative Commons licence not too long ago. That of course had nothing to do with me wanting to control my work the way copyright-abusers do; it had more to do with CC being not representative of what I want out of a fair system. It's not like, for example, I was going to sue people for making derivative works (I would consider that a compliment if done in moderation) even though my CC licence forbade it. Implicitly reserving all rights, in my opinion, works better when I want to engage in civil disobedience. I don't really care that much about copyright laws, and as CC still plays by the rules, I don't feel particularly drawn toward it anymore; the way things are now, I can selectively choose what I want while undermining the system I have no respect for.

Unless I'm just talking total nonsense, which is likely.

The RIAA Countersued

The RIAA has been countersued by a victim of its extortion tactics for quite an impressive list of offences. How will the mainstream media spin this?

I wonder whether she is going to win. It's rather unfortunate that this suit doesn't focus at all on the vastly exaggerated "losses" caused by filesharing. If won, this suit would at least slap the RIAA in the face, if only for once. Considering that they already got convicted for price-fixing some time ago and is still happily doing exactly that, I wonder how much effect this lawsuit could have on these megacorps.

Following Michael Geist's new book on copyright, this might hopefully just trigger a wave of consumer awareness and activism. I'd like to see Sony executives end up homeless on the streets, holding up signs saying, "Will Extort And Lie For Food".

Interesting quotation

"Any sufficiently advanced incompetence is indistinguishable from malice."

This is quite interesting, at least in the context that this quote was originally incited -- to describe the incompetence of the Bush administration.

A distinction probably needs to be made, however, between competence on a wider level (i.e. social responsibility) and individual competence. There's a world of difference between incompetent individuals who are in charge of nothing and incompetent management people that through negligence and whatnot cause people to suffer. The social irresponsibility would have to persist as well, with the management hanging on to power willingly and at the expense of people whose lives are continually affected by its incompetence. That is probably where the malice comes in, as it becomes fairly difficult to tell whether the management is simply too biased to see the truth or just not caring.

That is, it is perfectly fine for the Bush administration to resign (and more), but it isn't doing that. Either blinded by its inability to see the damage it's been wreaking or through malice, the administration is still sitting on the proverbial couch, controlling countless people's lives, its each decision affecting hundreds of thousands and millions of people.

I'm probably reading too much into this platitude, but still, I think whatever I'm saying is fairly reasonable. Sweeping generalizations can't be too good for society, anyway. And all that...