I'm Sorry, Dave. I'm Afraid I Can't Do That

If you haven't noticed already, a major source of my inspiration is paranoia. I simply just do not trust some things. So with this in mind, I decided to let it take over completely and see where that could go. This is a technology fueled, paranoid rant against the future. Plus, in the spirit of technology, I've also filled this article with videos as well, making it somewhat interactive.

Of course I do not live my life in fear, these are only just thoughts. This is intended to be somewhat humorous in a frightening kind of way. Nervous laughs. If things get too real, just watch this a few times:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7V7ehnWSUTs

Enjoy.
-Anthony

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I'm Sorry, Dave. I'm Afraid I Can't Do That



Before we begin, watch this first:

http://www.vbs.tv/watch/motherboard/motherboard_networked_city

Now I am going to ask you a series of questions in response to that video:

1. Do you feel good about the future?
2. Did that video make you feel all warm and fuzzy inside?

If you answered "Holy fucking shit, no" to any of the above questions, you may continue reading this article.

That is a portrait of what is to come if we let those psychotic (yet stylish) nerds continue with what they are doing. One of those losers described the city as a "game engine" or more simply, a basic foundation in which games and experiments are conducted. This is where you live your life. They want to play games with it. They want to invisibly rule your every move. And they also want to give "every grain of sand on the face of the planet 100 different internet addresses" for who-knows-what. Like I said, these men are psychotic.

These men can trace where you are going and what you are doing, all while disguising it as some sort of "game." From what it looks like, you don't get points and you don't play against other people, thus you never really "win." You just get followed. Some power-thirsty Geek Squad reject watches your day-to-day movement and makes it look like some shitty Coldplay music video. This information is then sold to companies who will use that data for marketing. Your reward for getting a high score is coupons in the mail.

But why is this what opened up my eyes? It should have happened much sooner. Why was everyone ok with Google sending camera cars to our neighborhoods in order to take 360-degree pictures of our lives? Did we give them permission? Why were we not concerned when Google Earth came out? "Oh hey! I can find my house from space! That's neat!" If you can find your house from space with the same machine you use to talk to your parents, other world governments can find your house from space very simply. And do you know what some of their satellites have besides cameras? Nuclear missiles. It's not like governments sit around and play with GarageBand all day. They strategize nuclear strikes. There might not even be a reason for it. The world may be at peace. But they do it anyway. Just incase.

Let me share something with you. In 1986, our government made these fun things ironically named "Peacekeeper Missiles." The missile would shoot up into space, find its targets, and then rain down maybe ten separate bombs, each roughly twenty times stronger than Little Boy, the bomb we dropped on Hiroshima (this information comes from this pdf, which I found on the Air Force's website: http://www.af.mil/shared/media/document/AFD-070618-036.pdf). These missiles eat childhoods and shit nightmares. This is what it looks like when it targets your bedroom from space, courtesy of Wikimedia Commons:

Fun Stuff. Luckily for us, they decommissioned all of these missiles in like 2005. Then again, that technology was developed in 1986. To give you some reference to where the public's mentality of technology was, Back to the Future was only made a year before. Where do you think they are now?

When the time comes, there will be nowhere to hide. Like they said before, even grains of sand have the capability to transmit gargantuan amounts data. Bricks can tell the enemy where you are and possibly what you buy most frequently at Starbucks. Forget using the computer; almost all of them have tiny cameras and microphones attached to them. The same goes for your cell-phone. All this knowledge exists and can be lethal if collected and utilized.

So-called "smart people" aren't really doing humankind any good on this front, either. Every now and then, the internet reveals videos of these scientists pretty much blueprinting armageddon. Watch these:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=geqip_0Vjec
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XSQarX2bNtQ

All you have to do is crank up the intensity on that ray gun to where it can microwave flesh, strap it on to that little helicopter thing, give it an infrared camera, and tell it to melt anything that moves and is around 98 degrees Fahrenheit. Now make a couple million of them. We had a good run.

Wait! That's it! "Run"! We can run to the mountains and into the woods where the robots cannot find us! Oh wait:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hh2nLWYnxkM

Well, fuck. The military made robots that can chase us through the woods. All it needs is a knife and some duct tape. It may just be me, but I think it could look a little bit more frightening. That thing actually looks like fun. If the scientists really wanted to keep us awake at night, they could have made it look scarier. Oh, hold up:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=W1czBcnX1Ww

That's more like it. Now it looks like a headless spiderdog. Great. Forget about ever feeling safe again. Why don't they attach one of these to it too, to insure I never sleep again:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dD_NdnYrDzY

This world is continually evolving into the movie Terminator. Defense contractors are getting richer. Your phones are getting smarter. Your social networks are getting creepier. Robotic spiderdogs are getting faster. You do not have to accept this. You have the right to privacy. I think. Well, at least you have the right to bear arms, which will be extremely useful when we have the great idea to give our computers an army. All joking aside, you really do leave a digital snail-trail of information everywhere you go. Just stay aware of who is watching you and you will be fine. And maybe work on running a little bit faster. But most importantly, always remember:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7V7ehnWSUTs

Bored

In keeping with the theme of Luke's most recent post, this week's selection comes from a song written at the age of sixteen. Things for most high schoolers appear in black and white;t his is certainly true of this song. It comes from an off-hand remark made by a friend. Back in my high school sophomore year some Monday at school, a few of my friends were talking about what they were doing while hanging out the weekend before, something that I had not been at. A friend turned to me and said, "Paul, you miss all the good things!" That comment inspired the following song.




Life could be better
From my point of view
Down here on the floor
with nothing to do

If I had a life
I'd have somewhere to go
But I know no one
So I'll stay here alone

Bored, and tired of living like this
Thinking of everything good that I miss
Bored, and wishing that I could just leave
Because around here it's too hard to breathe

Another great day
For me to forget
All these missed chances
I'll later regret

Just when did I let
My life pass me by?
I'd be out living
If I felt more alive

Bored, and tired of living like this
Thinking of everything good that I miss
Bored, and wishing that I could just leave
Because around here it's too hard to breathe

I watched some TV
But nothing was on
So I just sat there
For way too long

Wait by the phone
To see if it'd ring
Just a waste of my time
'Cause no one's calling

Bored, and tired of living like this
Thinking of everything good that I miss
Bored, and wishing that I could just leave
Because around here it's too hard to breathe

A friend - a different one than the one I mentioned before; I have more than one friend -- once told me that this is my best song and the only good one that I'm ever going to write. I certainly hope not. This song comes from a time in my life when I was not very cognizant of the world around me. I thought that my thoughts and feelings were paramount to all others, and my struggle to discover who I am and what I want was worth recording in a song. These false ideas are reflected in the lyrics: there is too much telling and not enough showing. By telling the listener exactly what I want them to realize about my situation, I am taking away any sort of intrigue or artistic merit to the song. Stating a fact does not involve any creativity.

But more importantly, this song does not define my current view of the world. It portrays too much passivity. A life unhappy can be changed -- but you must make the change. "Bored" assumes that we're stuck in our crummy situations on the floor. Yet we are capable of escape, even if it is only in a shifting of mindsets. Once you decide to cast off the shell of dismal gloom, you're capable of immensities.

This is especially prescient for me right now. My past three weeks with The Compass have been done with minimal preparation and I've scrambled to get something up. During the weeks preceding my week, I think about preparing but instead push the preparations aside to do other work that I claim is more important. But in for this blog to grow and for me to feel accomplished and satisfied, I need to break out the guitar and do some songwriting.

-Paul

Learning from the Past

This is a piece I wrote during term one of my freshman year at Elmira College. Its strange to think how much time has gone by. Reading it now feels awkward as I have never really thought this piece clicked, but I always liked it. Perhaps someday I will return to it, perhaps not. But as well as looking back at my own past, its about WWII and is an allegory of Henry's speech from good old Will Shakespeare. See what I did there, learning from the past...my past, the past. WOOOOO

D-Day

Captain Tony Rizzo stared into the faces of a dozen men. He swallowed hard as his shaking hand reached for what was probably his last cigarette. At 45, Rizzo had seen a lot, too much if he did say himself. He was a double dipper in World War II and right about now he could not remember why he had volunteered to serve a second campaign. These guys were a bunch of fucking kids for Christ’s sake, what was lady liberty sending them for? As the Higgins Boat ripped through the fog and waves, Rizzo watched the terrified kids, as their heads bobbed up and down like a dog begging for a treat. What could he say to such a pitiful bunch? Hell, Rizzo could hardly muster hope for himself. All he wanted to do was have a beer and watch the yanks play one more time or two, and as far as the army was concerned, this would have been his last mission as a soldier. However, now it seemed that Operation Overlord would be the death of him. They were about to attack over 100,000 krauts who had been dug into the cliffs of Normandy for months. The cigarette was gone before he knew it, worried and weary, Rizzo turned away from his men to face the raging ocean.

“What the fuck is Roosevelt thinking?” screamed a thin wiry soldier in the back of the craft over the waves. A few worried faces turned his way. The young Jewish man was named Jacob Halberstram. College was a joke now, for that matter, dinner tomorrow from his pack was a joke, he was sure death was upon him. His fears and insecurities had gotten the best of him, he continued his rant and said, “This operation is already FUBAR, you all know we’re gonna die don’t you? I mean look at us! Driving up as pretty as a little goddamn shooting gallery for the fifty calibers to tear apart.” “Halberstram is right,” muttered a pale kid named Danny Thompson as he clutched the plastic bag wrapped around his .30 caliber M1 carbine. “Maybe if there were about a hundred thousand more of us, maybe then we’d stand a chance! There is less than thirty thousand in our division, that’s nothing more than cannon fodder on this beach.” With that everyone fell silent, Rizzo shot a quick glance back at the men and Danny could swear he saw some fear in the old Italian’s eyes.

Greg Flannigan who had to be the only man there over thirty besides Rizzo finally gave way to his stomach and vomited over the side of the metallic vessel. It was either seasickness or downright fear, he could not decide. Greg or Mr. Flannigan, as he was known at PS. 118 in Brooklyn, was no soldier. He was a husband to a beautiful wife named Danielle and a seventh grade teacher. Sure he knew general history, and he could probably name you all of the presidents, but anything really about the military was, as they say in the army, above his pay grade. He did not have any idea how to check his six and he still could not figure out what Halberstram meant by FUBAR. This world was completely foreign. He mused in his mind about how he had not felt this nervous since he had to dance at his wedding. The happy memory managed to dig up Flannigan’s always-inappropriate sense of humor as he thought he would probably take death by the hand of a German soldier over polkaing with Danielle’s Old Italian grandmother again.

He had to do something, say anything to inspire these guys. He could not quite catch what was said but the privates sounded angry, mostly out of fear he guessed. Halberstram and Thompson were still going on about the impending “slaughter” and their “pointless” assault. Just then, Rizzo saw that Irish teacher, Flannigan losing his lunch over the side of the Higgins. Enough was enough, he thought. Rizzo planted his feet and pulled himself up by the latched front of the boat. Brushing water off his helmet, he turned to face his squad grasping for words to say.

“What’s that Halberstram? You and Thompson don’t think there’s enough of us here to beat the krauts? Well son, you might be right, but I would rather die fighting then wishing for reinforcements. There is no greater honor that you or any of us could do today than to die for Uncle Sam. We may be just a few thousand men, but I would not have it any other way. History will remember this day, privates, and in it, it will remember us. I am not a vain man, and living my life in Hell’s Kitchen has taught me never to be greedy, but you can bet your asses that I have pride. If I die here on this beach, I do it with glory and endless faith for my country and what we fight for today. To any of you that are afraid, that fear death, cease those thoughts. We are a company of heroes and we will fight valiantly. Any of you that are not willing to give your all for the United States of America can jump off this boat right now and fair your best in the waters. Because I would not fight in that man’s company that has no courage to fight with us. When the American flag is raised over Normandy, the soldiers left standing who return to the states will be known as such great heroes that the world has never known before. He, who is a veteran of this bloody battle will yearly, on June 6 feel his heart swell with pride for his country and love for his comrades in this infantry unit. He will yearly, on the anniversary, salute Old Glory and tell his tales of war to his friends and family, wowing them with his courage and resolve. Then, the names of your brothers in arms, Halberstram and Thompson, Flannigan and Rizzo shall be on that day honored in the highest. Our story will be taught in classrooms, and every June that comes by we few shall be remembered. We few, we courageous few, we band of brothers. For all of you men are like brothers to me, no matter your race, heritage, or age you are my brother. Because anyone who is willing to fight by me and die is my brother. And men of the world not here fighting for this cause will wish they had after this day. What say you privates? Are we going to lament and fill ourselves with fear, or are we going to take this beach in the name of America?”

With that, the entire Higgins nearly tipped over as every man present rose to his feet. Gone were the insecurities and the thoughts of death. There was only excitement and pride aboard the small landing craft. The soldiers felt such love for their captain that they were willing to follow him into the hell that waited. His words had inspired such miraculous courage that ever soldier no longer even saw death as an option. The cheering of the dozen soldiers riding upon Higgins vessel 27 from the first infantry division was heard on nearly all of the surrounding boats, and the shouts of goodwill and excitement carried on as the Higgins hit ground and the bullets ripped the air.