Belief and Manipulation

"A definition is the start of an argument, not the end of one." - Neil Postman

Its a very cold world. The image of the outside of my skin, the feel of its contours and the sounds of its going on are just processed and filtered, inverted and diluted and end up being verisimilitudes in one way or another. Someone asked me in a round about way what the point of Facebook is. Facebook is a product of its medium. On the internet, communication and feedback isn't requisite to the spread of information. It changes the focus from "allowing" communication to happen to "insisting" that you do. This gives credence to the maxim that "you can't not communicate." Facebook is never silent. Even when you walk away, it is still communicating and insisting that you do every time you log on. Facebook is not a compendium of facts, or a fun-looking Wikipedia about non-famous people; it becomes an advertisement so people can make emotional value judgments about other people. It, like most things, renders irrelevant information relevant and vice versa.

For example, take the book "The Game" which purports that, using a swathe of bastardized NLP techniques and cocky attitude, any man can pick up any woman at any time. "The Game" does not teach people to become modern-day lotharios, it tells men to become walking sandwich boards to elicit emotional responses from others to achieve their goals - it teaches them to become walking bullshit-spouting advertisements. An advertisement tells you nothing about the product; it only claims certain abstract positions and forces you to react on an "emotional" level. If you want someone to buy your product or use your service, you must make them "feel good" about it. The world of modern-day advertising aims at just that. I can promise you abstracts, therefore I can promise the world. It is hard to refute an advertisement, since it doesn't set itself up to be challenged. Game rules, indeterminacies and double binds make sure of it.

Hey, I'm not one to make a case against it - if the shoe fits, wear it!

Ghost Office

I was going to write a tedious rant about how people hate other people and how cigarettes are awesome because they kill you, but I thought it would be prudent and less shit to have some lulz. A corruption of LOL. Which stands for Laugh out Loud.

PRESENTING!

THE UNSENT SECRET LETTERS FROM FAMOUS PEOPLE TO OTHER FAMOUS PEOPLE (USLFFPTOFP)

My rampant unemployment has led me to devour books at an alarming rate for a member in a society taught to think as little as possible and react as much as possible. These letters will never be sent because, well, people are pussies. And some of the mentioned are dead (or at least, dead to me.) Here's the first USLFFPTOFP:

Rick Astley is a cult internet phenomenon. Everyone's been rick rolled. If you haven't yet, you're either over 40 or living in Sierra Leone. Bill Hicks in his masterful Half-Sane pilloried Astley for being a general jackass and complete wanker. Here's what Astley would send to Mr. Hicks if his tarred lungs didn't give out on him:

From: Rick Astley
To: Bill Hicks
Subject: Funny

Hey Bill, hope you're well. I've almost forgiven you for calling me all those horrible names you did in that video. It's funny because even though my video is a source of derision, it does generate a lot of laughs - more laughs in a shorter length of time than you ever got in your entire career, and i'm not even a professional comedian! And I didn't have to do shit!

Your pal,

Rick "Roll'd" Astley

The truth hurts. So does this:

To: Jeff Walker, Bill Steer, Mike Amott (Carcass)
From: Mille Petrozza (Kreator)
Subject: Raise, the flag, of hate

I want my GOD DAMN RIFFS BACK!

- Mille

Actually, that could be sent to absolutely everyone after 1994.

Here's some more from the wonderful world of comic books:

To: Paramount Pictures
From: Stan Lee

I love my Marvel creations as if they were my babies and my gold-plated Mack Trucks, and I want to you to treat them with due care and diligence like you do with your million-strong audience and teams of dedicated, hard working writers.

Love,

"The Man"


They've only released the same movie about 15 times already, who is realistically going to notice now?

Here's one I would personally like to see sent:


From: Roadrunner Records Promotions Department
To: The Metal Community at Large
Subject: LOL

HAHA WE R IN UR BANDS, MARKETIN THEM TO COMERSHUL INCHRESTS

P.S NO, I WILL NOT MAKE OUT WITH COREY TAYLOR

SLAYERRRRRR! (FIRST)

- RRPD

Then this one, if the Parliamentary Spam Filter didn't catch it:

From: Andrew Fisher, John Watson, James Scullin, Ben Chifley, Gough Whitlam
To: Kevin Rudd
Subject: BASTARD

YOU GOD DAMN, SON OF A BITCH - WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU, STAN MOTHERFUCKING BRUCE?

Signed,

The Australian Labor Movement


If only. If only.

Here's another one that I think would be quite appropriate

From: Endemol Southern Star Productions
To: The four remaining Big Brother viewers
Subject: Why Bother?

We were going to write a letter to make fun of your incalculable idiocy, then we figured you wouldn't be able to read it.

And I'm out. Stay tuned!

Dust and Neglect

I've embarked on the road to success only to be confronted by obstacles in my path. I've lost all sense of direction, I can't seem to figure out where up goes or if down is where it is supposed to be. I've wiped my mind of fugues of discontent with books and other such written sense, and its transformed me into a saner person. Even though I began to hallucinate the other day - it was unbelievable. I believed that a person that is dead to me now was suddenly living; as if they had never left.

I guess it's a matter of believing myself over my eyes, at any rate. I think there are some ghosts left over in my brain that I need to exorcise. But writing that down won't help me, and doing all the terrible things that I vowed to do can't alleviate the constant imaginary crises I'm experiencing either. When I was sucking down another cigarette the other day with accompanying piece of shit cup of coffee, I thought to myself; "I can't realistically drift forever.

I'll die eventually."