In literature and movies the narrator may reveal itself to be unreliable. There are many forms of this described in the Wikipedia entry. My friend Rob asked me what my story was. He didn’t say story, but what he meant what what is the thing that I’m angry about. What is the thing I want to change in the world. What is the idea that I find most irritating so that its resolution would positively effect thy world.
I like the idea that the narrator can be unreliable. You are experiencing information warfare. At scale, billions of humans can be convinced that killing at scale is good for a nation, or that you should purchase a house, or car. What is our budget for defense?
Participating in this is activity is “that thing” that I was attempting to explain. All the communications that you participate in 2019 is mediated by surveillance capitalism. Twitter sells your tweets, you are the product…. Being the CEO of a security company, I too gather data and sell it for profit. I write code that walks around the network locating “bad” things that need to be removed, censored, exorcised, or muted, Many of the things that my code and algorithms locate are malicious and removing those makes the world a safer place. Safer. Safer for those with power.
We built the wrong network, and I’m using wrong lightly. It appears that just using the network is mostly unsafe, for those that intend on subverting power. If you are looking to subvert power do not make plans on-line. We/I will find you, if you don’t have a weapon, one will be provided to convict you with. Narratives are generated.
When I work in the garden I laugh about space. That humanity needs to go out into space. I have not been in space, but I can imagine growing food in the light that one gets on mars, or in an atmosphere that is many times less dense than ours. There are thousands of kinds of microbes in my soil that faciliate the conversion of CO2 into cellulose. Lettuce some call it. All other planets and nearby moons are sterile. Nothing wants to grow there, not even Lettuce and this makes me laugh as I weed.
When I feel crippled by the complexity of life, it makes me grin to think about all those folks that think they can use the environment on another planet to eek out some energy to make food. It makes me laugh and only then I can continue on tilling, weeding and flaming all the unwanted plants that must grow in my soil. Am I a radical plant racist, yep — we grow both vegetables and animals.
One of the things I accept about farming is that there is a cycle all around me. I kill weeds, gophers, insects. My dog kills foxes, hens and hobos. Foxes kill my baby chicks. I kill pigs and sheep — chickens and ducks and feed them to my friends. We have come far from the days when humans were close to these things. I cannot explain why I am “ok” with this: I know every animal on the farm will die, I will kill it and if I don’t it will be killed and maybe we will eat it or bury it. All this happens and its not always happy.
We celibate the hachlings and when those turn out to be the dinner of a skunk, points. In California as of July 1st, I will only be able to kill said skunk with a copper bullet. By law — See, the copper [lobby] industry can not count on housing to continue its march forward, so they attacked lead and in Californian all bullets will soon be required to be made out of copper. Law my friends is no longer reliable, it is not fashioned for the citizen but for the corporation. Law makes the rich richer. Show me a law that increases the wealth of 90% of the population. Friends, that is information warfare.
Farm life is so different — I’ve fallen in love with the blue sky and the veracity of clouds competing for a different mix every day. True that, I look up — I used to look down at my feet in shoes.