God is within our reach. For we have created him. We have named him. And associated feats and skills with his name. Unique skills that only he himself could ever possess. He is above us, for sure. But he was defined by us. He definitely is all knowing and all powerful and all seeing and all being. But those are his feats. Those are his skills. Oh, you can add whichever skills you may want to. They will still belong to a list. A human made list. The real god, should he even exist. Would be of a certain nature. That nature could be a completely external and different from ours. And I totally believe it is. And so, by definition, that nature will forever be unknown to us. Maybe that is revealed to us when we die, maybe even while we still are alive. But it certainly will be translated to our languages. Even if perceived first by the feelings and thus, composed of a yet decrypted alphabet. It will, invariably be translated to our languages. Our verbal languages. And so, humanized.
Maybe that’s actually a good thing. But that also means that, probably, due to our own design definitions, we will only ever perceive a humanized nature of god. If and when we do come in contact with him, at all. When we tell someone that we have been in contact, been touched by god, we end up translating that experience to words. And so, our god’s feats remain humanized feats.
Hey, someone’s god actually divided the waters of a large body of water to make passage for his people. “Wow. That’s pretty impressive. Well actually, we humans can do that do, you know?”
”Really? But like, just with the power of your will?”
”Yes,” I replied. “We get together, come up with a plan, and when we have our minds focused on something, we simply work our best until we get the job done. We also like to have fun and enjoy ourselves, you know what I’m saying?”
That’s human nature I’m talking about. Also because I don’t know anything about God’s. Godsuss.
Then came Science… And started walking towards god. And we followed.
Science decided that god wasn’t unreachable. At least not his godly feats. And like the second law rules, if we can reach his feats, then we will have accomplished the same as him, and we will have become of his. Gods ourselves.
Science ruled that everything could be tried at least once. Science said that nothing is impossible and that we could do anything. We believed it and went after our dreams. Our godly dreams. And one by one, believe you me, those dreams came true. We wanted to fly, we wanted to cry, we wanted to get high. And they made all that possible. Science did. Scientists did it, in name of Science.
And Science wouldn’t rest, until all of our dreams became a reality, in our universe. Some of us were still feeling lonely and empty inside, and they did not appreciate all the good that Science has to offer, but it’s alright, as history has shown, they will come around, and embrace our
Philosophies and become model citizens in their own right, Science bless
This great nation.
I mean, this great civilization that we built. And Science will keep working hard, to make sure we keep evolving, in hopes of, one day, we get to meet god. Or at least, be just like him. Gods ourselves.
Thursday, 29 July 2010
Ideia Picon3
Alien art review. Analyze and critique a piece of art as if you were an alien. Like, in this next scene, it seems that the girl has decided to kiss the guy willingly and pleasurably right in the middle of the alien cage full of humans. Dabbling like fish in a fisherman’s net. Like an alien who knows the language and the basic vocabulary, but to whom every cultural and unique aspect of the movie is a new register. Like the god in ‘the Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy’. Or the godlike dude, I don’t know. I haven’t read it yet, just heard about it. But I have bought it on amazon.com.
Ideia Picon3 One
Ideia Picon3 One
Wednesday, 9 June 2010
Coffee Shop Poetry 4
I can't be here anymore. Everybody seems to realize that.
Groups, ha! Go figure.
They choose me and cast me out. I'm the misfit.
I get thrown off the ship and into the deep ocean I dive. Two days later I emerge, the same as before. But now I have the
ability to fly, to filter offensive remarks and to sing like a mermaid. Merman, come on. To them I'm still the same, oh yeah, they see me and they don't even mention my awesome achievements. Hell, I'm simply back on track, I'm part of the herd again, I'm nothing but another specimen. Speciman, come on. How could anyone even begin to understand the narrow and complicated paths onto which I have roamed? They would if they wanted to, I guess. I'm no better than anybody else. Point is they don't give a fuck. Nobody gives a fuck. And so they shall pay.
So I begin my revenge. The first down is from the captain's side. His best man, his best friend. The guy who has had one too many sips of the eternal wine, the forbidden kind. As he takes his twelfth I strike. Right on the head. He drops like a rock. Rolls over and explodes. Everybody is curious, everyone wants to know what happened. I disappear and wait for the conclusions to be drawn. Two minutes after that the whole planet is ok again. These people have no memory, they don't seem to process the impossible coincidences that have brought them to this place. How could anybody, anyway?
God calls me on my mobile. I say I'm late for an appointment, make up some excuse, and just fling that bastard into the water. Some moments later I can already spot a fin, he's evolved again and now he's rallying around the ship. Panic increases rapidly. The seaman all start to go overboard. One by one they are eaten by him. In my mind I try to teleport myself to a better place, full of peace and love, but cries of pain and anguish bring me back to reality. This feels like a dream, this
tastes like a dream, it just can't be real. It's too bizarre, it's too mean. I can't be here, I can't! I won't endure this nightmarish reality! All these creatures emerge in front of my eyes, they simply come, one after the other, like fireflies
that don't glow. I try to squish them with my hands, but they don't seem to bother. Actually they penetrate my skin, infect my body and steal my soul. I am now a part of him. I feel like a puppet, a meat puppet, controled by this diety, this fiendish being that doesn't seem to exist. It coexists. It needs me. It needs us. He takes care of me now, he can't spare my life, my existence justifies his.
I created him at the same time that he created me. We too are one.
Groups, ha! Go figure.
They choose me and cast me out. I'm the misfit.
I get thrown off the ship and into the deep ocean I dive. Two days later I emerge, the same as before. But now I have the
ability to fly, to filter offensive remarks and to sing like a mermaid. Merman, come on. To them I'm still the same, oh yeah, they see me and they don't even mention my awesome achievements. Hell, I'm simply back on track, I'm part of the herd again, I'm nothing but another specimen. Speciman, come on. How could anyone even begin to understand the narrow and complicated paths onto which I have roamed? They would if they wanted to, I guess. I'm no better than anybody else. Point is they don't give a fuck. Nobody gives a fuck. And so they shall pay.
So I begin my revenge. The first down is from the captain's side. His best man, his best friend. The guy who has had one too many sips of the eternal wine, the forbidden kind. As he takes his twelfth I strike. Right on the head. He drops like a rock. Rolls over and explodes. Everybody is curious, everyone wants to know what happened. I disappear and wait for the conclusions to be drawn. Two minutes after that the whole planet is ok again. These people have no memory, they don't seem to process the impossible coincidences that have brought them to this place. How could anybody, anyway?
God calls me on my mobile. I say I'm late for an appointment, make up some excuse, and just fling that bastard into the water. Some moments later I can already spot a fin, he's evolved again and now he's rallying around the ship. Panic increases rapidly. The seaman all start to go overboard. One by one they are eaten by him. In my mind I try to teleport myself to a better place, full of peace and love, but cries of pain and anguish bring me back to reality. This feels like a dream, this
tastes like a dream, it just can't be real. It's too bizarre, it's too mean. I can't be here, I can't! I won't endure this nightmarish reality! All these creatures emerge in front of my eyes, they simply come, one after the other, like fireflies
that don't glow. I try to squish them with my hands, but they don't seem to bother. Actually they penetrate my skin, infect my body and steal my soul. I am now a part of him. I feel like a puppet, a meat puppet, controled by this diety, this fiendish being that doesn't seem to exist. It coexists. It needs me. It needs us. He takes care of me now, he can't spare my life, my existence justifies his.
I created him at the same time that he created me. We too are one.
Coffee Shop Poetry 3
Will it ever end?
Has it ever begun?
If I write it here, then I guess that it means yes. It has begun.
He wouldn't agree with that, oh no he would never agree with me.
He would prefer to be caught dead in his sleep, eyes closed, goofy grin, some random teeth showing. The morbid glance of death, cold staring you in the eye. Trying to fool life's own wisdom, the one we can't seem to find anymore.
Where has it gone? Where will it be?
Will I ever cross its path again?
Will it ever choose to find me?
All I got to do now is wait, hope that good things come my way one more time. Oh but just one more time, that's all I need. Oh I beg, please.
He had left his house five minutes before. The phone was ringing. Had he been there to answer, to talk to that person, to interact with another member of his own species. Had he been there to deny the accusations, stop the frustration and kill the vibration, then we would have known. Then we would have been able to say, with total certainty, that he wasn't dead. But as the phone rang, as the world turned, as life evolved, his gloryfied carcass was left behind. He was now nothing more than a footnote. Then it was erased.
All of a sudden a thud is heard. Muffled and distant. Deep in the night, void of spirit. The coffin is scratched from the inside. He knows it's too late, but he goes for it anyway. His nails are painted with blood. Crimsom tools of splinters and skin. The air is slowly being modified, his lungs now work as a backwards filter. For every breath he takes, there will be less oxygen for him to breathe. Anxiety makes his blood pressure sky rocket, he can't stop puffing. He looks around and all he sees is black death, a dark reality. At last he gives up, his brain gives in. His soul is drenched, bones and skin. His muscles are too tired, there is not enough air. There is not enough room, for him to despair. And as he takes his last sigh, draws his last breath, he closes his eyes, nods welcome to death.
The coffin lid flies open. Piles of dirt lie all around the grave. They are one second too late. He is not there anymore.
Has it ever begun?
If I write it here, then I guess that it means yes. It has begun.
He wouldn't agree with that, oh no he would never agree with me.
He would prefer to be caught dead in his sleep, eyes closed, goofy grin, some random teeth showing. The morbid glance of death, cold staring you in the eye. Trying to fool life's own wisdom, the one we can't seem to find anymore.
Where has it gone? Where will it be?
Will I ever cross its path again?
Will it ever choose to find me?
All I got to do now is wait, hope that good things come my way one more time. Oh but just one more time, that's all I need. Oh I beg, please.
He had left his house five minutes before. The phone was ringing. Had he been there to answer, to talk to that person, to interact with another member of his own species. Had he been there to deny the accusations, stop the frustration and kill the vibration, then we would have known. Then we would have been able to say, with total certainty, that he wasn't dead. But as the phone rang, as the world turned, as life evolved, his gloryfied carcass was left behind. He was now nothing more than a footnote. Then it was erased.
All of a sudden a thud is heard. Muffled and distant. Deep in the night, void of spirit. The coffin is scratched from the inside. He knows it's too late, but he goes for it anyway. His nails are painted with blood. Crimsom tools of splinters and skin. The air is slowly being modified, his lungs now work as a backwards filter. For every breath he takes, there will be less oxygen for him to breathe. Anxiety makes his blood pressure sky rocket, he can't stop puffing. He looks around and all he sees is black death, a dark reality. At last he gives up, his brain gives in. His soul is drenched, bones and skin. His muscles are too tired, there is not enough air. There is not enough room, for him to despair. And as he takes his last sigh, draws his last breath, he closes his eyes, nods welcome to death.
The coffin lid flies open. Piles of dirt lie all around the grave. They are one second too late. He is not there anymore.
Coffee Shop Poetry 2
"I believe I have made my case pretty clear, your honor."
"I understand you do so. And should you do so, under my clear warnings, my constant, raving accusations of forgery! Blasphemy! Lies and deceit to come since ever from your filthy mouth! Oh but how I loathe you and everything that you represent! Silence at once! Silent you shall rest! No! No more!
And so the water broke. Ripped the shallow and fragile levee that once withheld. Itself. Out came the surfers. Proud and vicious, skimmering the water, side by side, they sang in tune. Scared and ducked on the corner, we waited on the dune. The wave seemlessly evoked more bubbly effects on our water. We had been hurting the water, that was the purpose of the surfers, the grunge forecasters, the savage battle carriers. United they stand against our awe. Awesome is their power, destructive and plentyful fear. And so, after a moment of silence, the tide calmed down.
Into the water we went. Sunk forever yearnful of better days. Last sips of air bubble away in the green obscurity. The souls begin their chants. Haunting emotions translated into cries of pain. In comes the cult. You are in the middle of it. It is your initiation rite. Your last rites. Into a new life. You understand it and decide to carry on with it. What follows is a mass avalanche of destruction of everything you ever held dear. It is truly the end, the new beginning. The moment you had been waiting for. Served on a platter. Splattered on the floor. Vomitted across the living room. Twirling up into space never changing or decaying. The souls still observe, though now from a longer distance. Waves of different values begin with heavy debate. Masterful tides of sheer volume explode inside of you. You feel it normally now. The yellow now calms you. The feeling now repetitive, generates pleasure, not pain. Will feel better the next times, that's the way it sells itself to you. The next time will be better, in every way. This time wasn't perfect, the perfect hit still hasn't come. I am out to find it, out to get it. It will come one day, it has to. Otherwise life has no meaning, life has no purpose. Well, let me tell you of a big one... Loneliness.
She left at midnight. The egyptian guy still swept the room, looking for some time for himself. And you know what? He got it. I am out.
Produly I wake up in the bar. To not drink and still be welcome there, it is a bluff. It is a try. A mere attempt. Here went nothing. He spotted me in a flash. Started to weave towards me with the smallest of efforts. Eventually we collided. Everything changed from then on. Like it always does.
"I understand you do so. And should you do so, under my clear warnings, my constant, raving accusations of forgery! Blasphemy! Lies and deceit to come since ever from your filthy mouth! Oh but how I loathe you and everything that you represent! Silence at once! Silent you shall rest! No! No more!
And so the water broke. Ripped the shallow and fragile levee that once withheld. Itself. Out came the surfers. Proud and vicious, skimmering the water, side by side, they sang in tune. Scared and ducked on the corner, we waited on the dune. The wave seemlessly evoked more bubbly effects on our water. We had been hurting the water, that was the purpose of the surfers, the grunge forecasters, the savage battle carriers. United they stand against our awe. Awesome is their power, destructive and plentyful fear. And so, after a moment of silence, the tide calmed down.
Into the water we went. Sunk forever yearnful of better days. Last sips of air bubble away in the green obscurity. The souls begin their chants. Haunting emotions translated into cries of pain. In comes the cult. You are in the middle of it. It is your initiation rite. Your last rites. Into a new life. You understand it and decide to carry on with it. What follows is a mass avalanche of destruction of everything you ever held dear. It is truly the end, the new beginning. The moment you had been waiting for. Served on a platter. Splattered on the floor. Vomitted across the living room. Twirling up into space never changing or decaying. The souls still observe, though now from a longer distance. Waves of different values begin with heavy debate. Masterful tides of sheer volume explode inside of you. You feel it normally now. The yellow now calms you. The feeling now repetitive, generates pleasure, not pain. Will feel better the next times, that's the way it sells itself to you. The next time will be better, in every way. This time wasn't perfect, the perfect hit still hasn't come. I am out to find it, out to get it. It will come one day, it has to. Otherwise life has no meaning, life has no purpose. Well, let me tell you of a big one... Loneliness.
She left at midnight. The egyptian guy still swept the room, looking for some time for himself. And you know what? He got it. I am out.
Produly I wake up in the bar. To not drink and still be welcome there, it is a bluff. It is a try. A mere attempt. Here went nothing. He spotted me in a flash. Started to weave towards me with the smallest of efforts. Eventually we collided. Everything changed from then on. Like it always does.
Coffee Shop Poetry 1
The indians have taken over. They waltz in great wagons. The cannons are pointed at the apex. The top of the palace has been protected by a crown of thorns and roses. The locals have adorned this gloomy gleeful tower head with gold and platinum seeds, shining away in the distance. Out come the fire crusade. They charge ever so relentless up against our barriers of human flesh. Ouch cry the soldiers who put the silence back in the track. But it seems to be far from over.
The cease fire will be broken. It comes as a vision, one troubled night in the tent.
The boy suddenly awakens, broken by despair and agony. His mother's hopeless lament is ignored by the now courageous general. His fleet stands tall, untouched and prestigious. From up high they observe the battle field, soon to be drenched in pure native blood.
The cavalry charges, cries sound like thunder, rips of blood that cut like blades, the emperor then decides to join the moment. All hell breaks loose. His voice is like metal saw shapes of cold determination. As bodies silently float, the old ones return to their lair. No more drive, no more air. The sounds of sin that dripped into tears in the old valley.
The ritual commences. The shaman clears the pipe from old smoke, cleans the tube from old dose. puts the powder that gives light, burns the head of the spike. The smoke is fluid and cold. Ice bubbles in red blisters of crimsom blood. Shapes are formed from silver rings that haunt the darkened tent. They are here. They haven't left.
They came looking for the theft. The way out. Their freedom. Where can they go?
If only we could stop thinking about it, we could solve it. If you never remember that you are playing the game, then you will finally win it. Until then, join us... The losers!
Oh how I despise them. How I just wanna see them burn. Cave. Give in. Cry for help. In vain. Give them the gun, put one bullet in, and eventually one of them will shoot the other in the head. Hopefully he doesnt shoot himself. I dont mean suicide is not fun. It just doesnt seem to spearkle any truthfully powerful emotion. Only sadness. And dismay. And dismay is not necessarily good.
I look at you. You just came out of her house. You blush and can't hide the obvious truth. You did it. Together. You are mine now.
I run. I catch. I kill.
The cease fire will be broken. It comes as a vision, one troubled night in the tent.
The boy suddenly awakens, broken by despair and agony. His mother's hopeless lament is ignored by the now courageous general. His fleet stands tall, untouched and prestigious. From up high they observe the battle field, soon to be drenched in pure native blood.
The cavalry charges, cries sound like thunder, rips of blood that cut like blades, the emperor then decides to join the moment. All hell breaks loose. His voice is like metal saw shapes of cold determination. As bodies silently float, the old ones return to their lair. No more drive, no more air. The sounds of sin that dripped into tears in the old valley.
The ritual commences. The shaman clears the pipe from old smoke, cleans the tube from old dose. puts the powder that gives light, burns the head of the spike. The smoke is fluid and cold. Ice bubbles in red blisters of crimsom blood. Shapes are formed from silver rings that haunt the darkened tent. They are here. They haven't left.
They came looking for the theft. The way out. Their freedom. Where can they go?
If only we could stop thinking about it, we could solve it. If you never remember that you are playing the game, then you will finally win it. Until then, join us... The losers!
Oh how I despise them. How I just wanna see them burn. Cave. Give in. Cry for help. In vain. Give them the gun, put one bullet in, and eventually one of them will shoot the other in the head. Hopefully he doesnt shoot himself. I dont mean suicide is not fun. It just doesnt seem to spearkle any truthfully powerful emotion. Only sadness. And dismay. And dismay is not necessarily good.
I look at you. You just came out of her house. You blush and can't hide the obvious truth. You did it. Together. You are mine now.
I run. I catch. I kill.
Tuesday, 4 May 2010
The reason why we are the most advanced humans ever
The reason why we are the most advanced human species ever is simple. We just are! Simple like that! We can look back to all other types of humans there were and simply compare your lifestyle and realize just how advanced we really are.
You may say that this that is being stated is obvious as hell! And there really is no point in writing about it with such intensity and glory. And I would agree if I didn’t know that there is still more to be said about it. Be patient, he he he.
I also am talking about the other generations of humans. I mean, I am talking about the different homo sapiens generations we’ve been having on the planet. The generations that preceded us. I’m even talking about your father and mother. Mine.
We are much more advanced than them! Our generation, the people of today, the young people of today. The ones that are most in contact with this new globalized society, we are number one! We are the most advanced people ever to walk this planet!
We have the best of the best, firstly. Best healthcare ever, best nutritional understanding ever, best living conditions ever to be experienced by anyone. Maybe not the cleanest times, sure, but technology definitely makes up for this small loss. We maybe don’t have that classic little crystal-clear creek at the end of the wheat field, or the stone well with spring water. But we do have medical care. Back then, one appendicitis was the end of you, for sure. Here we can go beyond that. Way beyond that.
Here you can last a good long time, fixing yourself. Replacing your parts. Diagnosing with great detail the littlest of problems. Here you own yourself. Here you can sit back and relax, knowing with great likelihood of guessing pretty much everything that goes around you. Even the smallest virus or bacteria that lurks around you. We know that by now. We have that information.
Science has fed us with so much knowledge that we have reached a point never before experienced by any of these animals that inhabit our planet. Sure, we are animals too, just like them. But have come to a point that no other specie has ever dreamed of!
We can duplicate the planet. We can make another one. On a computer, of course, but we can. We can create alternate realities. We can simulate different times of the past. We can project different futures. We are in control.
Sure, the other animals have their own realities, with different understanding of the world around them. But they can’t begin to understand ours. Or anybody else’s for that matter. It would be too much for their little brains. Our brains aren’t anything special by the way. I’m talking about the computers we have created.
The computers that were brought to inhabit the planets by us. Are aliens. They are monstrous creatures. With parts completely renewable and in constant development. These creatures have immense brain space. And their brains is the source of all the power that has recently been given to the human race. Think about it!
Until well recently, I don’t know, less than 100 years ago. If aliens had landed here and given us shit, we probably would have been extinct very easily. Then we developed the atomic bomb. Then we developed computers. We now are a bigger threat to the aliens around, aren’t we?
Maybe not, we can’t be sure. Maybe it’s the same difference to an alien as three cockroaches instead of two to be killed. No big deal. But for us it made the world of difference. All the other animals on our planet now bow to us. Up until very recently some species still had their domain, as men approached with little technology and just a lot of bravery.
Immense packs of Buffalos still roamed threateningly free, the countryside was filled with mysteries and legends and the sea was still a wild obscure frontier. Now those boundaries can’t hold the human spirit. We have conquered all those evils, we have made the world a much brighter and simplified place. Think about it, before us it was everything, the universe was this place. To very recent generations, the world was the universe was this place. Beyond those dark forests there was evil, before our little village it was all evil, and when it comes our time to go there will be evil.
We are the ones who came forth and announced: the world is a tiny blue ball. It flies around like a bug, circling a light bulb in the corner of a dark alley. That’s our world. Isn’t it beautiful now? Maybe we can still find some evil around, but in this scene just described isn’t the little bright blue bug the most beautiful thing around? I believe it is.
And funny enough, our fight now is not to conquer the other species around us, that’s been won. We now fight against the planet! We hurt him, he hurts us back. Maybe the planet itself doesn’t realize what’s going on. George Carlin said that and I believe (in) him. The planet is fine. He doesn’t know what’s going on. For him this is only taking a minute of his ever lasting life. It’s like that evening when you finished the full bowl of chili con carne extra picante. You felt a little stomachache. And then it was gone.
What you didn’t know is that stomachache, instead of simply accepting its reality and going away, has developed machines inside of you, to make sure it would last forever. Maybe it doesn’t want to hurt you, but it is mainly concerned with its own development, for sure.
And that’s what we are. The guys who have the machine at their disposal.
We didn’t create the machines, I mean us, you and me. We were the first ones to be born after the machines. So the machines don’t make us feel strange. Maybe you still have somebody you know who doesn’t like the machines. But just look around you, little by little, everyone is getting used to the machines. Even animals are stimulated to play with the machines. Our cars and means of transportation, we don’t make them ourselves, the machines make them. Adjust them, tune them to perfection.
And we have also invented the personal machine. It comes in different sizes and it can serve different purposes, but everyone now has personal machines. Everybody walks around carrying some sort of personal machine. Machines that can locate you, trace your steps, ask you something, interrupt you, distract you, keep you company and take care of you. Sometimes when we are bored and lonely, even in a place full of people around us, we decide to turn to the machines for comfort. We turn on the machines to make us feel less alone. Even in a crowded bus, coming back for work. A packed subway, everybody interacting with their machines. Nobody looking around, nobody caring for anybody else but their own machines.
But it’s alright. Because from those machines we have art. And isn’t art the most noble and precious of human creations? If it is, then our generation is the first one to ever have free, instant access to every single art form ever to be conceived by man. From our personal machines we can reach pretty much every work of art ever created in this blue ball. And that’s a first! Nobody else before has had this much access to different ideas at the same time.
So the question is, what are you gonna do about it? With so much to choose from, with so many options, what are you gonna put together? What will be your art?
You may say that this that is being stated is obvious as hell! And there really is no point in writing about it with such intensity and glory. And I would agree if I didn’t know that there is still more to be said about it. Be patient, he he he.
I also am talking about the other generations of humans. I mean, I am talking about the different homo sapiens generations we’ve been having on the planet. The generations that preceded us. I’m even talking about your father and mother. Mine.
We are much more advanced than them! Our generation, the people of today, the young people of today. The ones that are most in contact with this new globalized society, we are number one! We are the most advanced people ever to walk this planet!
We have the best of the best, firstly. Best healthcare ever, best nutritional understanding ever, best living conditions ever to be experienced by anyone. Maybe not the cleanest times, sure, but technology definitely makes up for this small loss. We maybe don’t have that classic little crystal-clear creek at the end of the wheat field, or the stone well with spring water. But we do have medical care. Back then, one appendicitis was the end of you, for sure. Here we can go beyond that. Way beyond that.
Here you can last a good long time, fixing yourself. Replacing your parts. Diagnosing with great detail the littlest of problems. Here you own yourself. Here you can sit back and relax, knowing with great likelihood of guessing pretty much everything that goes around you. Even the smallest virus or bacteria that lurks around you. We know that by now. We have that information.
Science has fed us with so much knowledge that we have reached a point never before experienced by any of these animals that inhabit our planet. Sure, we are animals too, just like them. But have come to a point that no other specie has ever dreamed of!
We can duplicate the planet. We can make another one. On a computer, of course, but we can. We can create alternate realities. We can simulate different times of the past. We can project different futures. We are in control.
Sure, the other animals have their own realities, with different understanding of the world around them. But they can’t begin to understand ours. Or anybody else’s for that matter. It would be too much for their little brains. Our brains aren’t anything special by the way. I’m talking about the computers we have created.
The computers that were brought to inhabit the planets by us. Are aliens. They are monstrous creatures. With parts completely renewable and in constant development. These creatures have immense brain space. And their brains is the source of all the power that has recently been given to the human race. Think about it!
Until well recently, I don’t know, less than 100 years ago. If aliens had landed here and given us shit, we probably would have been extinct very easily. Then we developed the atomic bomb. Then we developed computers. We now are a bigger threat to the aliens around, aren’t we?
Maybe not, we can’t be sure. Maybe it’s the same difference to an alien as three cockroaches instead of two to be killed. No big deal. But for us it made the world of difference. All the other animals on our planet now bow to us. Up until very recently some species still had their domain, as men approached with little technology and just a lot of bravery.
Immense packs of Buffalos still roamed threateningly free, the countryside was filled with mysteries and legends and the sea was still a wild obscure frontier. Now those boundaries can’t hold the human spirit. We have conquered all those evils, we have made the world a much brighter and simplified place. Think about it, before us it was everything, the universe was this place. To very recent generations, the world was the universe was this place. Beyond those dark forests there was evil, before our little village it was all evil, and when it comes our time to go there will be evil.
We are the ones who came forth and announced: the world is a tiny blue ball. It flies around like a bug, circling a light bulb in the corner of a dark alley. That’s our world. Isn’t it beautiful now? Maybe we can still find some evil around, but in this scene just described isn’t the little bright blue bug the most beautiful thing around? I believe it is.
And funny enough, our fight now is not to conquer the other species around us, that’s been won. We now fight against the planet! We hurt him, he hurts us back. Maybe the planet itself doesn’t realize what’s going on. George Carlin said that and I believe (in) him. The planet is fine. He doesn’t know what’s going on. For him this is only taking a minute of his ever lasting life. It’s like that evening when you finished the full bowl of chili con carne extra picante. You felt a little stomachache. And then it was gone.
What you didn’t know is that stomachache, instead of simply accepting its reality and going away, has developed machines inside of you, to make sure it would last forever. Maybe it doesn’t want to hurt you, but it is mainly concerned with its own development, for sure.
And that’s what we are. The guys who have the machine at their disposal.
We didn’t create the machines, I mean us, you and me. We were the first ones to be born after the machines. So the machines don’t make us feel strange. Maybe you still have somebody you know who doesn’t like the machines. But just look around you, little by little, everyone is getting used to the machines. Even animals are stimulated to play with the machines. Our cars and means of transportation, we don’t make them ourselves, the machines make them. Adjust them, tune them to perfection.
And we have also invented the personal machine. It comes in different sizes and it can serve different purposes, but everyone now has personal machines. Everybody walks around carrying some sort of personal machine. Machines that can locate you, trace your steps, ask you something, interrupt you, distract you, keep you company and take care of you. Sometimes when we are bored and lonely, even in a place full of people around us, we decide to turn to the machines for comfort. We turn on the machines to make us feel less alone. Even in a crowded bus, coming back for work. A packed subway, everybody interacting with their machines. Nobody looking around, nobody caring for anybody else but their own machines.
But it’s alright. Because from those machines we have art. And isn’t art the most noble and precious of human creations? If it is, then our generation is the first one to ever have free, instant access to every single art form ever to be conceived by man. From our personal machines we can reach pretty much every work of art ever created in this blue ball. And that’s a first! Nobody else before has had this much access to different ideas at the same time.
So the question is, what are you gonna do about it? With so much to choose from, with so many options, what are you gonna put together? What will be your art?
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