The Read Pill

The 'red pill' is not read. In it's natural state, it looks quite green, and muddy brown after it's been boiled down for a few days. As a crystal, they say it has a yellow tinge. What do you think?

33 Days: Day 15 - 33

...rorre .pmud kcats stack dump. error...

Improvised collaboration...

Hello everyone.

I am alive; I cling to this fact with determination staring at my tired eyes in the mirror in the bathroom of my girlyfriend's Angela's house in Rouen.  I am back from Bretagne after having spent a month on a small island (Belle-Ile-en-Mer) off the Morbihan coast selling ice cream to sugar-dependent children and their bourgeois Parisian parents.  The island is gut-kicking beautiful, renowned throughout France for its unique ambience and badass sandy beaches (without French Riviera crowds and snootiness).  So why the hell do I feel nauseous when I think about it now? well...

 

The Way Some Things Work

Games and Puzzles: The Way Some Things Work

This post serves a number of purposes in that it is 'designed' to address the people who have commented over the life-cycle of this 'blog'. Yeah, the tenth stage of a life-cycle that I have only recently learned about through interaction with a beloved elder who, despite the medication, was well aware he was at Stage X, the transitory phase that includes mottling and cyanosis... his extremities had begun to cool.

We said goodbye.

Talk about...

GRACE

under pressure
(and morphine).

Jane Doe 183

Jane Doe? That means she’s dead, right?

“No, that’s not her posthumous ‘name’. She’s been off the radar for quite some time now. An intentional move. A choice. She could possibly still be alive... maybe in a shelter.”

You’re talking about one of your aunts?

“Yeah.”

Not the one who married the Fro…

“No. From the other side... from out of the light, not the shadows.”

Go on.

“What I still find peculiar is the way things have kind of just happened. Like the last time I saw her, I don’t remember her even speaking to me. I could hardly recognize her through the window. Not that the fasting had changed her looks other than making her appear painfully thin, almost skeletal if it weren’t for her healthy color.

You see, she still was good about nutrition. Very careful in fact.

The 'her' I didn’t not recognize didn’t acknowledge me. We had no conversation that I can recall.

But, as it turns out, she’d remembered me because she left this…

Here’s her writing on the inside cover. 

Her message... her ‘recognition’ of me comes mainly from a time before I was even ten years old. And she still pegged it. Even after all that time... and this time.

When she first came to visit, before I was ten, her presence was discovered quite by accident. Behind a closed door of the spare bedroom was a steady and indecipherable voice that, to a child’s mind, at first sounded like some kind of alien.

"Pasted on the inside of the book was 'everyone'"

Despite being scared, we opened up the door anyway. Kneeling on the floor, hands on in the ‘prayer position’ on the bed, was a woman with her eyes closed and speaking in tongues. She was kind enough to explain that a little later when she had finished her communion or whatever it was.

During her ‘visit’...”

Wait, I thought you said she was homeless?

“Yeah, she’s been homeless for as long as I can remember. Homeless in the sense of having no fixed address and no more possessions than what she carries with her. Admittedly, she has taken advantage of shelters from time to time. Or a family’s hospitality. She knew people.”

About that visit?

“Okay... yeah… that visit. That was probably the first time I met her. Or even knew that she existed. Definitely different. Different for a number of reasons. But before I get into those, I have to thank her for taking the time out to recognize who I was, even at that age. I mean, nearly ten and with no brother around, I had no one to wrestle with. Wasn’t about to try that with Step-dad-one. At that age, most adults wouldn’t rough house with kids. But she would. Tough and strong. Now that I think about it, her survival routine would have kept her in very good shape. At least when she wasn't 'sick'.”

You once said she’d taught you things?

“Yeah. She taught me about carob and how to sing הבה נגילה.”

But you are גוי?

“Yeah, I guess. But there was other stuff.”

Like what?

“The big words that named the problems. Kind of like the art she left, pasted on the inside of the book.”

And she left you that book the last time you met?

“Yeah, the last time we met. When she didn’t even acknowledge me, so I thought. But she was speaking to her little sister, the one who ended up taking care of everyone. And I still haven’t got the stories straight.”

Stories?

“Yeah. Like how nervous breakdowns seem to run in the family. 183’s father was 160, or somewhere around there. He’d actually belonged to the club, that roundtable where ‘intelligent’ people are supposed to sit. Only thing is, people were waaay too far into their own heads to really know how to communicate. No one would listen. Not where he was.”

That’s funny.

“Yeah. Peculiar. 183 was even brighter. Which is somehow related to her idiosyncrasies, her choice to ‘not belong’ to society. Now, her navigational skills may seem fairly remarkable to some, but when you live on the streets, you pay attention to when libraries are open where there is plenty of time for reflection. And she could and did read. Areas with mild climates allowed her to ‘live in the hills’ with nothing more than maybe a tarp.”

You’re laughing.

“Yeah. Just remembered how her younger sister said we weren’t to use the plastic blue sheet when we were painting. 183 had complained we were messing up her home. Apparently, that was her shelter for the hills. Where she lived.”

Why now? Why all these thoughts and memories?

“If I could answer that question… no… it doesn’t need answering. What’s important is that I am able to have these thoughts and memories. I hadn’t seen that book, really opened it, in quite some time. Only now am I able to kind of understand where everyone was coming from.”

Because everybody’s clock keeps a different time?

“Yeah, and maybe this one too:

BECAUSE GOING NOWHERE

TAKES A LONG TIME

Something in the climate of a hammer

Struck him when young. Call a

Sparrow a lamp, you’ll still need

The liking of chairs to settle

What is at bottom only painted over

Cloth; and that flat cunning of plates,

How little it speaks above the soup’s

So roundly directional bravura. Count the sky

A pan, you’ll still be hard put to find

Any flash in its like. But ah, alas, alas,

Lottipo . . . the mushy marshes, those tree-lined woods,

The so-small journeying, and the trivial occupants thereof . . .

There, too, and all else, alas, are only real. So may we

Remember once again how the grasses cause the wind to move . . .

Ah, alas, dear Toppilo, what then is this realm that seems

So like a cell, without jail or judge, or witness even . . .?

And that we love! Is this not proof of something?

No, I admit – not necessarily of heaven . . .

 And now, for that song..."

 

Sid was not vi[s]cious...

 

Their once was a Rottweiler named ‘Sid’

A pure-hearted dog

With the heart of a kid

When he’d make his rounds

He’d put on that sad and lonely frown of his

You could hear his plea

As if to say

‘What about meeee?Aawwwe’

As he sat by the back door

And begged for just a little more

But not too much

He’d get a few pieces meant for the table

A scratch behind the ears

And pat on his fat back

Then he’d be off again

Places to go

To the next place

Wherever that was

He was the neighborhood bum

And we all sure enjoyed enabling that one

Man, that dog sure could eat.

Living in a kind of more rural area where your neighbor might be an acre or so away, most people had the habit of leaving their doors open. Doesn’t really make sense to lock anything when you spend most of your time outside anyway.

In the evenings, before the bugs came out, the top part of the door was usually open when dinner was being made. Last minute salads were picked from the garden throughout most of the year. Miss those Such a nice place.

Anyway.

Well, usually near dinner time, this big thug of a dog who could’ve probably afforded to loose a bit of that extra weight… Sid, he’d kind of slowly find his way up onto the back porch and stand there for a few minutes.

If no one was giving him any attention or at least pretending not to notice, he’d start to whine a little, kind of lettin’ folks know that he was stopping by and would sure appreciate one of them special dog biscuits we’d somehow not forgotten to picked up just for him.

Nobody really remembers when he first started showing up. We never really knew where he lived. And it’s not like he wasn’t well fed. He was kind of known for making the rounds in a way that made you smile when he came by. He’d hang out for just a little while, long enough to charm his way into your heart for those few scraps of whatever you might not really need.

No, never did figure out where he lived.

But we know where he died.

There was a school not too far away where people really should have been minding the speed limit when they drove by. No matter how big those yellow signs were, people just couldn’t slow down.

Funny thing about Sid, he wasn’t shy about holding up traffic even after he’d left a dent or two.

Word was, someone heard another screech from the wheels of a pickup truck that really should have been going a hell of a lot slower.  Instead of the usual follow up of profanity, that final day, the skid marks were punctuated with a pretty solid thud.

Yeah, Sid was a good dog.

Remembering him still brings back a smile.

F*cking Fathers' Day

 F*cking Fathers' Day: Axes to Grind

 

Let the good times roll...

Let them knock you around...

"Good evening."

 

"Good evening Lloyd." 

 

"What will it be?"

"The usual."

Let the good times roll...

Amphibious Approach

Guided by decades of seasons
Meekly approaching

Only under the cover of night

She lands

Her last obstacle overcome

Her clutch deposited

 

She returns to that big blue forever

Her solution

Some say
Going by the sheer 
weight of numbers 

alone 

The odds are
STACKED 
QUITE  
HEAVI-
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June 3, 2013

June 3, 2013: A [t]Raining Day

Small Pri..

READ ME 

(This post has been written with the expectation that there are very few people who will easily 'get it' all on the fist read through. Contained within are a number of links, each intended to supplement the post in providing specific examples of what is being introduced and to show what connections are being made. Allowing for the videos, the only thing required on the part of the reader is roughly ten minutes of valued time for the first look. Throughout the post, there are a number of questions you may choose to answer. This is not an empathy test; it's not even a test. Everything after ***** is extra. There are no 'Easter eggs' hidden in this post - not in a technical sense.)

You are under no obligation to solve or unlock this post. However, you may wish to read the directions first. 

Directions (optional): 

1. Read through without clicking, except where there is an asterisk *. 

2. Read through again, clicking where supplemental information is necessary. 

3. Leave a comment. 

(Addendum: Comments will be responded to in order received with individual consideration applied to each.) 

PART I

Just recently, a now-more-famous-than-ever politician from Osaka had said some things that have stirred up a bit of controversy. Quite frankly, I'm pleased to see that people are questioning their perception of where they live. 

And...

In the context of living in Japan, I  was asking myself, “What would make a person not simply ‘go with the flow’ and violate established social code?”

Going with the flow... thinking about the consequences of going with the flow and understanding what that entails had me curious.

First, I went to look at Ki11010gy.

And saw:

“Grossman further argues that violence in television, movies and video games contributes to real-life violence by a similar process of training and desensitization.”

The video is something I'd seen seven days prior to June 3, while learning how to pack stuff. This is one of the coolest instructional videos I've come across on the Web so far. Schr03d3r does an excellent job at presentation. If only everyone was able to give instruction the way he does, there would be a lot less mess to deal with. The video is roughly six minutes long. If you are already familiar with the process, please skip ahead to the 5:30 mark. 

Question #1.

Can you see how the Grossman quote is related to the video…can you make that connection?

a. yes

b. no

After reading what is quoted above and making the connection (1.a) I continued to learn about the M!1gr4m experiment. And I thought to myself, “Oh, yeah…that one. The one most of us have heard about and perhaps even participate in to varying degrees.”  

"Morality of  ELTs"

(I'm kind of nervous when people ask me questions.) 

For some reason, I began thinking about my recent reintroduction to probabilities through the kind wisdom found in Joker’s Three Door Monty problem. 

TO READ JOKER'S POST

    

CLICK HERE *

(Which game show? Which studio? Why would I be in a studio on a game show?) 

You see, regardless of where or when the M!1gr4m experiments allegedly take place, roughly 2/3’s of the subjects are “prepared to inflict fatal voltages” - something that is noted as being “remarkably constant”.

Question #2.

Can you see a connection between Joker’s lesson and the shock experiments? 

a. yes

b. no

Regardless of your answer, what do you think it could be?

(Yes, there is a specific answer. However, all attempts are appreciated; you may be more attuned to this than I am.)

PART II

 

Related to the M!1gr4m experiments are the H0f1!n hospital experiments.

“Nurses views of professional standards

induced them to

suppress their good judgment.”

M!1gr4m’s experiments were controlled. No one was being shocked. However, in this case, the tests were carried out in the real world, with real people in very real situations. 

“What,” might a person ask, “is the mechanism for this…how the f*#@k does this happen?[!]” 

Back to those three doors now, one of which has already been opened for you. 

FOR JOKER'S SOLUTION

      

   

CLICK HERE *

Question #3.

Even after knowing or understanding what the odds or probabilities are, after having had them explained to you…do you still want to stick with the first door you chose?

a. yes

b. no

The A$ch conformity experiments all seem to boil down to a bit in the last paragraph :

“theoretical distinction between

social reality testing

and

physical reality testing

is

untenable”

Which only really sunk in after I’d read the whole article.

All I had to do was replace this

(I think of these as the 'four seasons' of Japan)

with this

Learning and thinking here at this point

is very seldom, from my experience, ever done in an environment where normative influences are not present.

Normative influences…when an individual finds time to do her or his own thinking outside the box and submit their ideas anonymously, they are “not subject to social punishment or reward on the basis of their responses”.

Question #4.

 

What color is the circle on the right?

a. red

b. green

c. blue

d. yellow

Question #5.

Are you sure you do not want to change your answer?

a. yes

b. no

You may click here later.

Wikipedia’s information on the conformity experiments are very helpful.  It’s much easier than I thought and very similar to how I remember one of my own special 'sessions'. I actually remember the specific answer I chose.  And my response was predictable.

I had trusted one of ‘them’.

Ironically, for me, it remains a moral question.

PART III

Moral Disengagement

If you look it up on Wikipedia, you will find the quote attributed to Voltaire. 

“Those who can make you believe absurdities can make you commit atrocities”

Of the following list, I am only concerned with the first one in how it applies to the current situation.  

 

 japanning

•  Reconstructing immoral conduct 
•  Displacing or diffusing responsibility
•  Misrepresenting injurious consequences
•  Dehumanizing the victim

Tentative Conclusion:

When I ask myself, “What would make a person not simply ‘go with the flow’ and violate established social code?” -  I do not have a clear answer for that. But I do know that I need to be aware of how authority works especially when the odds are so heavily stacked in its favor.  For the System, it doesn’t matter which door you choose as long as you choose from the answers that are provided. Or that you are watching. 

Looking forward to your responses. 

Fortunately, reaction time is not a factor. 

*****

After-math

 

Somebody really asked me about someone the other day. 

And the person asking the question was surprised by my response, which caught him off guard. 

This Father's Day is when I will post about a number of 'them'. 

Thanks for reading. 

PS
The local honu are returning.

'What's the right thing to do?'

 This is more than just a question about a knob.

 On and off...

And everything in-between.

“Unsettling our settled assumptions…”

The ability to step out of my comfort zone is something I cherish very much. I also understand that even considering the possibility can be seen as somewhat of a privilege.  And I am fully aware that my concept of ‘comfort’ is a lot further from what most people find palatable.  

 Very simple and reasonably cheap.

Usually not in the way people expect.

Although life often requires much more than a binary mindset, there are times, however discomforting, that afford no privilege of simply thinking. 

"Mr. Ashborn"

There may be moments when it must either be ‘turned on’ or it gets turned ‘off’ - in a permanent sense – where the idea of ‘fairness’ does not come into play at all. Sometimes it’s hard to keep this in mind. 

 Quick!

On or Off...there is no try.

And then there’s this.

Fuckit! I’m going outside.

And some people got buttons.

 

Industrial Strength

Scenery

Beautiful...

Sandmen: Trading New Days for Old

Background ‘noise’ has a way of becoming invisible to the naked ear. 

Perhaps it’s hidden in the Muzak you don’t really know you’re listening to. 

For that middle-of-the-crossroad sound, smooth jazz works best for me.

Although…

Won't you stretch imagination for the moment and come with me
Let us hasten to a nation lying over the western sea 

Hide behind the cherry blossoms here's a sight that will please your eyes
There's a baby with a lady of Japan singing lullabies 

Although, walking over fine pale sands along forgotten miles of beach, the ‘richness’ of being allowed to be human (or at least try to be) has somehow ebbed.   

 

Which, at the moment, represents a delicate and distracted state not exclusive nor universal to any form of life. 

Under the rising tide in a current stream of wounded pride, fond memories are waxing nostalgic.

Like an echo of the song I hear the Japanese Sandman
Call new days near for all here's the Japanese 

Those who would have it another way seem to have forgotten ‘her’. 

Then you'll be a bit older in the dawn when you wake 

 

 

And you'll be a bit bolder with the new day you make

Not understanding, in a land of color blind ears and tone deaf eyes, I slept well beneath her naked beauty.

SiSSYFiGHTiNG

And Priscilla-proud of it too. 

Unforgettable Sissy Felicia - remember?

Flaming Sissy Smith

Sort of.

You see, this inescapable Web 2.0-ish stuff is pretty damn funny.
Most often in a bizarre way that will reach out and touch you.

And it stings.

Especially when that proverbial eleven-year-old mind pimp-slaps you with her keyboard at more mental Mbps than your little DSL of an ego can handle.

 Let's plagiarize here for a minute.

S[*]SSYF[*]GHT turned the usual tropes of gaming upside-down. Everyone was forced to be a girl, and the game playfully encouraged backstabbing, flame wars, and a ruthless mob mentality.

Wunsuponatyme there was an idea that kept buggin' me and wanted to be blogged about. A little bit of sentimental stuff about the 'put down',  the 'backstab', 'hair-pulling' and mindless mob going mental on itself kind of spectacle.

What was alluring for me is that the ancient piece of hardware, virtually a dial-up... that slower piece of high tech I was using at the time could actually be used to 'play the game' - a game that was much, much more than point and click, click, click....

A lot of the social dynamics of the game were familiar when I stared reading blogs, just a little more than two years ago.

Only, the SiSSY-game, game of almighty games, clearly states what the objective is:

S[*]SSYF[*]GHT is a game of social interaction and psychological strategy. Every player starts with 10 self-esteem points, and your goal is to reduce the self-esteem of the other players. If there are one or two girls left at the end of a round, they win.

For a short while, it was a fun experience and I did considerably well at being a rotten little bitch.

Governed

Faces of Grief

Denial

Anger

Bargaining 

Depression

Acceptance

Professional Courtesy

Professional Courtesy: Dr. Mercy's Last Words 

 

Hang on, just a minute...

Just in case you kind of stumbled here, by chance, this is the fifth and final part of a series within a series, within a... you ___ ___ _____ . Near the bottom.

Go ahead, click stuff, I'll wait. 

Now, that we're as close to being on the same page as we're probably going to ever be, here goes: