« | Main | CIA Edits Wikipedia »

August 13, 2007

Comments

Feed You can follow this conversation by subscribing to the comment feed for this post.

I have seen the future. It's worse than we think.

Deciding a predetermined outcome is like what... Elections? Pro wrestling? Meritocracy?

To (spelling) bee or not to (spelling) bee... that is the (extreme) unction.

Maybe they will have good jobs reading other people 's email and deciding whether they should be hauled in for questioning, tortured, or shot. The Stasi employed - what - a third of East Germany as informers? We could use a boost in employment. Moonlighting as an informer could be a way to retire early.

Good idea. Perhaps we can hire illegal immigrants to do surveillance under some temporary guest worker program. It'd be a way of bringing them into the information economy.

Universal surveillance is the solvent of the hive mind.
Like prison guards learning the latest street slang the things that compose the monitoring architecture bring the top end down toward their own falling middle, the hope in this case rising from the larval nursery that they catch it, sling their chitinous hooks into something with enough buoyancy they can reverse the drop before everything hits terminal velocity.
It's not just that stale cliche of "If you're not doing anything wrong, why do you care?"
It's "If you're not going to be part of the Great Hive, what are you going to be part of?" When the Great Hive is clearly going to eat anything that comes before it.
These trivial little shields of individuality so precious to radical perverts like Th. Paine must be neutralized and removed, so that the All-Seeing One can then take control.
Clusters of unblinking perception, the compound eye of thousands of desk-bound unfaithful believers identifying threats to what they can't even name let alone define.
Obedience won't be an issue where there is no longer independent will.
Freedom for the group demands complete submission from the individual, this is axiomatic, ipso facto the individual must dissolve into the larger collectivity. Anything less is compromise with evil. Evil being what's bad for the hive. Ipso facto...
You can track the ineluctable emergence of this bizarre organic deity now forming in the institutions of the recent past, the slow metamorphic roll toward insect hegemony.
We will become God and transcend space and time and be immortal and have the universe(s) and eternity to perfect ourselves with and within, until the next metamorphosis.
Also without that transformation we're doomed, so it's really a binary thing.
Alberto Gonzales isn't a humanbeing, he's an unsheathed stinger carrying paralytic toxins into the slow and blind worm of the...you get the idea.
It isn't about now, it's about then, next, soon.
See the PRC and the fundamentalists both for all the superficial difference writhing in larval convulsions headed right for this moment and through, meeting the greed-drunk US formerly-liberationist rag-tag independents stumbling toward whatever squalid beds they have left. Victims of material seduction! Take responsibility for your own misguided failures! Surrender to the omnipotent!
Close inspection reveals pathogens and viral catalysts packed like high-tech weaponry into invisible packages, easily transported through the pragmatic matrices of what is, this, where we are, where we really are, here. Dressed in our dusty workmen's clothes, our fuck-me rags, our whatever-was-there when we woke from those dreams of naked truth into this brilliant lie. We carry things toward destinations, knowing neither the one nor the other.
Parasites jumping to blanket and bed, little angels of witness with their innocent metaphorical heads stuck in banks of HD monitors, cloaked programs running, utilitarian faith intact, and no one hardly around to say it's inhuman, non-human. What they're doing without realizing it, and without caring that they do is the irresistible scalpel's severance of our fragile temporary integument, the skin of what we were all this time. A Caesarean procedure that delivers a ten-pound bug out of the bleeding womb of a virgin whore. It's the species-split, co-optation of a really big fork-in-the-road, a turning toward the unspeakable, which the unspeakable naturally find quite thrilling and appropriate.
They will become One.
It has no human character, it is a bug-thing, it is a bug-hive thing, it is an ugly fucking bug-hive thing that has eaten the world almost all up.
Not that anyone asked but if someone did I'd probably say kill it before it multiplies. Trick it into killing itself. We may have that responsibility, not just to what we might have been, not just out of revenge but to protect and defend, an allegiance to something we haven't seen yet, out there on some still-obscure other-galactic world, growing now toward what we're too limited to see except as light, that beauty-in-waiting, not-yet-become. Do we have to consume everything that matters? Do we have to have proprietary connection to everything that matters? Do we have to compromise with this thing made out of shit and selfishness, this golem of material compromise? Can we not sacrifice for the unknown, the unknowable, the never-to-be-touched?
This thing that's eating us wants to go there, to lift-off and go and eat that as well. So the crime is not just what it's done here, but what it may yet do out and away from earthly confine, driving those auto-valenced moral engines starward at full speed, captained by that tiny human-less void, that little echoing space inside its rational core that substitutes, in a creature like that, for conscience.
Not that anyone asked.

The net benefit is that we will see a resurgence of old literary forms like parable, fable, just so story. Uncle Tom is Uncle Remus.

How did Karl Kraus say it, in Vienna between the wars, "Satires that the censor can understand are rightly condemned."

The Stasi employed 300,000 to eye a total pop. of 17 million, including infants, eld, pigfarmers and the Stasi. One playwright discovered his close-knit family of actors included six spies. One actor found his wife had compiled a 500-page dossier on him at the behest of the org. In such a tiny nation, the end of the order led to deep silence. No one spoke of it. Enabling it to evolve.

Vision Thing:

Lin (China Public Security "Tycoon") said the success of US technology during the invasion of Iraq inspired him to acquire the predecessor company for China Public Security and turn it to police work.

"I really felt strongly that the police would absolutely benefit from such technology," he said. "[US President George W.]Bush helped me get my vision." Taipei Times

The Gnu York Times article justifies the technology with fighting crime and terrorism pieces of language, even as it plays the anxiety card about state control. It resolves nothing, but kisses off in the bliss of Bushian jihad:

Shenzhen’s red-light districts have a nationwide reputation for murders and other crimes.

Control is such a sweet thing to those who have it, or vie for it, the Times included. "Power brokers," lest this wisdom of crowds thing get out of control.

A Poem? Yes.

The Castle by Tomasz Rozycki translated by Kombinat!

The rest of the story. We were in love-
they took over the government. And now govern us,
these, who used to spit the farthest, and sang
the loudest, and on school tests were the cheaters

In power now they are and our names are known to them,
They know where we live, bills they
on stationary paper send, there behind the curtains
of that window across we see that reports are sent

directly onto the black desk. They address us by first name
and for us a workplace they selected and a job title,
for a bit worried they are to name
our true occupation. Maybe they even will

be sending us gifts, because clearly they know,
why we are here, why at night our kitchen
lights are on and why so easy it is

to kill us but so difficult to bury.


Thanks to wood s lot
http://web.ncf.ca/ek867/wood_s_lot.html
I've found this
https://www.bu.edu/agni/poetry/online/2007/rozycki-firewater.htm
and then read some polish originals.

I think The Castle poem is quite fitting. The subtitle is (I've come here to shoot the president)
Below the original polish text. I tried to translate it in the spirit of dissent so clearly recognized in the polish version. Those who shall not understand it should just fuck off, I took 20 minutes out of my busy american life to bring you this boom boom. Sleep On!


Zamek (przyjechałem tu zastrzelić prezydenta)
by
Tomasz Różycki

Ciąg dalszy tej historii. Myśmy się kochali -
oni przejęli władzę. I mają nad nami,
ci, co kiedyś pluli najdalej, i śpiewali
najgłośniej, co odpisywali na sprawdzianach

to ich teraz jest władza i już wiedzą o nas,
i wiedzą, gdzie mieszkamy, przysłali rachunki
na firmowym papierze, widać po zasłonach
tu w oknie naprzeciwko, że idą meldunki

wprost do czarnego biurka. Mówią po imieniu
i już na dali pracę i wybrali zawód,
ponieważ ciut się boją naszego wymienić
prawdziwego zajęcia. Może będą nawet

wysyłać nam prezenty, bo dokładnie wiedzą,
po co tutaj jesteśmy, po co w nocy światło
świeci się w naszej kuchni, dlaczego tak łatwo
nas zabić a tak trudno naprawdę pogrzebać.


Shit, correction. strike 'in' and insert 'making' like this:

We were making love-they took over the government.

Thank you, K. The time was well spent, if any time is ever well spent, in keeping the spirit of self-respect, let alone dissent alive. I submitted it to Gifthub for possible publication. Some will see the connection between giving, giftedness, protest, art, and sacrifice. Most won't. Most will wonder why Gifthub stays off topic. But it is all Wealth Bondage after all.

You folks seen the recent movie The Lives of Others (Das Leben der Anderen) ?

Surveillance art.

Read the reviews, have not seen it.

The comments to this entry are closed.