Interesting...librarygorillaDecember 13 2003, 23:49:26 UTC
It's all fiction. All of it. The worlds we contruct and call real, ourselves, the whole deal. Ever since the first cro mag had enough time between dodging sabretoothes and raping his women to wonder '?'
Now more than ever. We have caveman minds in a star trek world, pounded with billions of times more information than we can deal with, aware of a context we aren't really equipped to fathom. We see constant reminders that we are one of a teeming mass, and feel irrelevant because of it. We're equipped to find our place in a world that includes perhaps a hundred people, and now we ahve to find a place in a crush of billions.
It's why fame has become the only meaningful commodity for us. We know by being known. We mark our place by how many people know we exist. And if they know we exist, then we matter. We achieve a place in the world. We create meaning.
Dylan Kelbold and Eric Harris understood this when they killed their classmates at Columbine. All their lives they had been beaten down and marginalized, told by deed and idea that they simply didn't matter. They saw a chance ,in asingular expression of hate and rage, a way to become meaningful, to become immortal. They destroyed themselves and passed from person to idea, from fact into fiction.
It's why the shootings apread like a plague, an idea of potential glory spread virally across the nation looking for a vulnernable mind. A fatal fiction of meaning.
Re: Interesting...mycroftxxxDecember 14 2003, 03:25:52 UTC
Maybe you are being pounded with billions of times more information than we can deal with, but I'm kinda bored to tell the truth. As far as I've been able to work out, people are eventually able to deal with anything non-lethal in damn near any amount. So far, I'm having no trouble staying ahead of the curve in the early 21st century. I'm much more worried about things slowing down, and the tolerance I've built for infodensity turning into withdrawl.
So, Sir Richards, what exactly happens when you can't do any more drugs because there aren't any moe to do?
Now more than ever. We have caveman minds in a star trek world, pounded with billions of times more information than we can deal with, aware of a context we aren't really equipped to fathom. We see constant reminders that we are one of a teeming mass, and feel irrelevant because of it. We're equipped to find our place in a world that includes perhaps a hundred people, and now we ahve to find a place in a crush of billions.
It's why fame has become the only meaningful commodity for us. We know by being known. We mark our place by how many people know we exist. And if they know we exist, then we matter. We achieve a place in the world. We create meaning.
Dylan Kelbold and Eric Harris understood this when they killed their classmates at Columbine. All their lives they had been beaten down and marginalized, told by deed and idea that they simply didn't matter. They saw a chance ,in asingular expression of hate and rage, a way to become meaningful, to become immortal. They destroyed themselves and passed from person to idea, from fact into fiction.
It's why the shootings apread like a plague, an idea of potential glory spread virally across the nation looking for a vulnernable mind. A fatal fiction of meaning.
So, yes, beware.
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So, Sir Richards, what exactly happens when you can't do any more drugs because there aren't any moe to do?
You hurt mate, you hurt.
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Of course, the argument could be that if you torture something long enough it will eventually go insane to shut out the pain.
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