Thursday, April 1, 2010

The Impermanence of Internet: Cyberanthropology At A Thousand-Word Glance

I want to be a cyberanthropologist. I want to study Internet subcultures and figure out why they mimic real-world constants in culture, without any conscious effort from the members of that subculture. But I'm haunted by a question: What purpose would it serve?

There's a growing branch of psychology, technological psychology. I hypothesize that it is named this because psychologists lack imagination, but I digress. There's been quite a bit of study in this field recently, especially concerning my generation. Previously, a generation was defined as 20 or so years. Now, it's being shortened to about six. People of my generation have been studied because of our unique temporal position: We were about when the Internet came to into its own, en masse, during our tertiary educational period. Developmental psychologists divide our stages of education into four periods: primary (from the time we are born until the time we enter school at ages 5 or 6; this is where most of our enculturation takes place), secondary (kindergarten to mid-middle school, where we learn the basics of social interaction), tertiary (where we learn to define ourselves as a person, and begin to cement our ideas of worldview and identity, ranging from high school to mid-bachelor's degree), and beyond (everything following, where our concepts of what a person is and what they should be become better defined, our worldview becomes more concrete, and we become less flexible). Because we happened to be in our tertiary educational period during the Internet Boom, where Internet service was finally getting to more outlying areas of the country and becoming more ubiquitous, we are in a unique position. Those that came before us still tend to learn better from a hard-copy text or manual than from a web page; those that came after us will find the information they need, retain it long enough to reproduce it on a product that they desire, then almost immediately forget it. But we few have some unique traits. We have an almost innate ability to perform data searches -- we can take search parameters and refine them almost instantaneously to get to the exact tidbit of information we need. Other generations have a slightly harder time of things, because this is, indeed, a learned skill. But we also process data differently. While the previous generation doesn't necessarily absorb information from the web in a complete sense, and the generation following us forgets it as soon as they regurgitate it, people of our generation will find, digest, interpret, absorb, and learn these sorts of information with little effort. Theories as to why this is include the fact that the previous generation does not trust current technology and thus will not learn from it "properly", and the later generation will not learn it because, to them, it is always available. But we -- members of my generation -- understand that information on the Internet is impermanent, and as such we should learn it while it is available to be learned, lest it be lost forever. We've been through many data wipes from many different information and media services since the true dawn of the Internet, and that has served to condition us; we know that, in the blink of an eye, anything and everything can be lost. (Does anyone other than me remember the Wikipedia Catastrophe of 2004, or the Youtube Conflagration of 2005?)

While interesting, this information yields a slightly different question in my mind. Despite my anti-humanitarian leanings, I do want to help people. I want to solve problems, right wrongs, make life easier for people the world over. Anthropology, at its base description, is the study of everything that humans do and everything that does to humans. It's very broad, and as a general rule encompasses everything. Cyberanthropology, then, is the study of everything humans do on the Internet and associated technologies, and everything those technologies do to humans. As the Internet and associated technologies become ever-more ubiquitous, more and more people rely on it to give them necessary information and networking that they need. I want to study the cultural aspects of this, as mentioned.

Will I be solving any problems? I can't say for certain. I know I can solve one problem for Google, who I'm hoping will bankroll me. They're trying to create demographics and search criterion for different Internet subcultures -- that is, they're trying to profile the Internet at large. And to the best of my knowledge, they don't have any anthropologists on board. A few sociologists, yes, but no anthropologists. I won't say that there isn't any chauvinism in science; I for one feel sociologists are doing it wrong. Granted, there are some things that sociology would be better suited to studying (high-profile things such as prostitution in major metropolitan areas of the United States), but sociologists aren't trained to interpret and hypothesize about their data; they err more on the side of 'make a statistic, quantize it, and move on'. Anthropology, especially on the cultural side, is set apart by the concept of the participant-observer. Anthropologists do their best to live the life while still observing the life-ways of a people, attempting to boil these patterns down and categorize them so they can be studied cross-culturally. As the number of real life cultures diminishes at an alarming rate of 20-50 cultures per year, new Internet subcultures appear at an alarming rate, with the same cultural items (thoughts, feelings, and actions) as their real-life counterparts. This is fascinating to me. It doesn't seem like it would solve much, however; I might be able to provide a new and interesting insight to Google in their search to create nothing but demographics out of the Internet to refine their searches.

But will it be anything more than that? Unless we develop some major cyberpunk technology in the next decade, likely not. I don't enjoy second-guessing myself, especially with my chosen field and professions; it will be a hard enough life as is. Am I doing something worthwhile? Perhaps only time will tell.

Thursday, March 11, 2010

The Bleak and Beautiful Future

Click.

"And in tonight's news, the United Council of American Commonwealths has decided unanimously to endorse a 'zero-tolerance policy' regarding all things outside of a sociological norm. These include, but are not limited to, same-sex relations of any sort aside from strictly platonic, any indulgence in vice, lack of belief in a singular mono-theistic religion, decisions to educate children in safe-sex practices aside from abstinence, and refusal to participate in mandatory religious ceremonies at the beginning of every semi-official function. Further, they have begun to close down bor--"

Click.

"...a breaking story. Riots have begun spreading across the borders of the UCAC as disgruntled workers from other areas are barred from attending their jobs in UCAC-controlled territories. Officials say these riots have been fueled by recent talks of acceptance of the now-infamous 'Retoleration Act', an amalgamation of preemptive actions against codified law and the creation of what some have called 'the largest social prison in the world'. Union representatives have begun pursuing legal recourse for their contingents, arguing that --"

Click.

"...in Chile. Thousands have died in the latest 9.4 earthquake, which has submerged the lower half of the country entirely in the following tsunami. Countries, territories, and economic blocs around the world are scrambling to provide aid; the Buenos Aires Industrial Complex was the first to respond, air-lifting their employees from the affected areas after a BAIC oil rig was destroyed in the five-hundred-foot wave. Vast oil stores are beginning to seep into ocean water from the destroyed drilling platform, which many worry will have a serious impact on international economic standings. Early estimates predict a 4000% raise in oil price per barrel, to close to 900 dollars refined. Cities the globe over have begun --"

Click.

"...not harmed by the dog's actions. The Northern Eurasian Economic Bloc has begun imposing trade embargoes on other world nations in the face of a massive energy crisis as seven of the conglomerate's 43 nuclear reactors have failed. While smaller, personal reactors have come online to power individual city blocks, analysts worry that the increase in radioactive emissions from these generators will cause the emergency grid to face meltdowns as well. Berlin, Frankfurt, St. Petersburg and Moscow are currently without external power supplies, and most industry has ground to a halt, lacking the necessary energy requisites to power the factories. NEEB representatives have said that the embargoes will be lifted when aid arrives in the form of portable energy, allowing for the trade of automobiles, industrial products, and mechanical part fabrication goods to continue. Meanwhile--"

Click.

"...the Extranational States of Northern America have begun increasing their armament of military devices, sources say. This comes as a surprise to senators and constituents alike, who had voted for increased munitions stores but not increased use. 'We were looking to build up reserves in the event that UCAC began another expansion drive,' said senator Karl Reisling, representing the Southwestern Corridor States east of Fault Island. 'But now that the military has decided to put the additional weapons in the hands of soldiers, we're beginning to get concerned. Military intelligence has been very good for the last six years, and has been able to predict trends that would harm the ESNA, its people, and its interests. Now that they are gearing up, the people are beginning to get scared -- antsy, even -- and this is having an effect on the overall stress level of the people.' ESNA voted to support but separate military capabilities from the realm of politics six years ago, allowing for an increase in efficiency and a lack of wasteful spending, as well as protecting their people from restrictive agendas. Now, it would appear that this may be a mistake, according to General Cor--"

Click.

"...arrived finally to the people of the English Isles. The 'Black Decade' was officially ended around Winter Feast last year, though Allied Continental Entities across the Strait have not begun turning on the switches allowing for power flow back to the Isles until this month. After complications with the sunken conduits last month, it would appear that the first licks of electricity are returning to the people of the Isle, who have spent the last ten years without power after a disastrous attempt to become an economic superpower and force the rest of the Allied Continental Entities, formerly the Greater English Lands, to end practices of exportation of goods to other countries without paying the appropriate tithes. Due to their precarious island position, the other countries banded together and reduced power flow to the Isles over the course of several months, eventually pulling the plug entirely. Now that negotiations have finally concluded, we may see the English Isles trying to reestablish themselves in the global network by the end of the year. A representative from ACE offered this statement as to the reason for the delay--"

Click.

Thursday, March 4, 2010

Of Idols and Men

There's a trend I've noticed, and it makes me fairly angry.

I don't watch a whole lot of TV; my entertainment needs tend to be quite a bit more selective than that. I can appreciate the production value, the time, the investment that these things bring, and sometimes I can even accept it. Though there's one genre I almost always shy away from: Reality TV. As a general rule, I'm just not that interested. Tonight, however, I got very interested, perhaps for the wrong reason.

Going upstairs for dinner, I noticed American Idol was on. Now, American Idol is a show I've always felt was some of the worst that we as a country could showcase, and a great example of our reliance on pop culture trends to define who we are and what we do. I'm not up with the lingo, but the latest episode featured 20 contestants -- ten men, ten women. Four people were to be eliminated. They started with the males. I wasn't around to see the first elimination, but I came in to see the black male singer be eliminated, "by America's vote." He had his final song, which I thought was soulful and spectacular and a fantastic call back to Motown.

After the commercial break came the females. The way these elimination rounds work is they separate the groups into two rows, each row housing five contestants. They move through the line, and call the final two in a row before the judges -- I'm assuming for dramatic effect. Before they had even started saying who was eliminated versus who was continuing on, I said to my parents, "The two black girls are going to be eliminated."

The sad thing? I was right. They prefaced each elimination with "from America's votes", and gave them a final song. I imagine the argument could be made that America really is that dumb and vocal, but I don't think enough people vote on that show (especially via text, which dings you each time you cast a vote if you aren't with the right carrier) to truly make a statement. I know people do vote, and I know they do count those, but to what degree? Where are these votes coming from? I'm willing to bet the raw data would show something else entirely.

The goth chick survived. The weird hippy dred chick survived. The gay country star male survived. The metrosexual male survived. Their performances were not particularly stunning. And yet, all the people of color -- Asian male, black male, two black females -- got eliminated in one fell swoop.

Rupert Murdoch, international media mogul and current owner of Fox, has a well-documented history of bigotry, especially in "his" media of interest. In a way, I know I shouldn't be surprised, but this makes me feel ill. And it happens all over. To wit, the only non-white, non-country "artist" who's won American Idol is Ruben Studdard, and even then his runner-up, Clay Aiken, has far eclipsed him in record sales, popularity, and national appearances, even in the face of other difficulties.

Doesn't this point to something amiss? Certainly, I can't be the only person noticing this. I don't even watch the show, and yet the first night I sit down and actually take a gander (aside from the season opener gag reels) this blatant display of racism and bigotry is flaunted. America likes to tout itself as the land of the free. We like to think we're past the racism thing since desegregation; I would posit that we are still very much racist, just in a much more insidious way. This is all very well covered elsewhere, and I know that decrying the silent racism in American media is old-hat, but it still irks me to no end when I notice it. We should be past this, and yet all we seem to do is embrace it. We have a black President, for fuck's sake. Shouldn't we be past this by now?

Incidentally, predictions for the next semifinals round: Goth chick goes, hippy chick goes, metrosexual goes, and Barack Obama is voted out of the running by overwhelming majority vote. Thank (white) Jesus we have people like Rupert Murdoch to watch over us and ensure that the entertainment we get is safe, highly sanitized, and bleached all to Hell and back.

Thursday, June 19, 2008

Forward March

It was moving day again, something I never look forward to. It's not just ripping everything up and traveling to a new city; it's the reasons behind it, and the realization that I would be a fool to try and stop it. We've set up safehouses all over the continent, and only we know which ones we're moving to... It's a perfect system. In theory.

There's 15 of us in this troupe, traversing the country and doing what we can where we can to try and improve things a bit. But we aren't the only troupe out there, so we have to look out for each other. We've never met another troupe, but we leave messages in the safehouses, signed by each of us. They do likewise. By my count, there's a little more than a dozen troupes, but lately communication has been getting more sparse. Then, we are spreading out more, too. Supplies are running low. Though we try to do what we can for the others, too; when we gather food and water, we make sure to leave some for the next weary travelers to take sanctuary in our hideaways. And they could be anything, really: high-rise apartments, minimalls, stockyards, warehouses... even churches, if we can shut things up well enough. It's a well-connected network of buildings spanning the known globe over... at least, the known modified globe. Since the bombs fell, and the satellites followed shortly, we're not sure if anything has survived on the other continents. Then again, we do our best to stay away from the coasts, too. Strange things happen near open water.

But like I was saying, it was moving day. We're on a rotating schedule, never staying more than 4 days in one place. The mutants and ghouls wise up pretty quick when there's fresh, unscorched meat to be had... heard a story once of a cadre that stayed a full week in one town, only to be staring point-blank down the maw of some particularly nasty dretches and skivs. I wouldn't have believed anybody to be so stupid until we happened across the town. San Pablo, the sign said. Ain't no Pablo I ever saw.

Breaking camp is the easy part, really. Siphon the gas there is to be had into the trucks and equalize their tanks, with three "steamers" with completely full tanks. Load the steamers with most of the food and provisions, load the people into the other four rollers with the rest of the equipment. You know, the water purifiers, Giger counters, extra ammo, generators, stuff for making camp outside if absolutely necessary. Three people to each steamer (one to drive, two to defend, one in the cab and one riding bitch while lashed to the tops), one driver to each roller, one gunner to lead and rear guard rollers. Wait for high noon and roll out. Generally we already had our positions planned out by the time we took, but this time we were a little disorganized leaving... and that almost got us killed.

See, all of us can drive, but only a few of us know how to keep the steamers running nice. Since driving steamer is so taxing, the four of them are on rotating schedules, with the one on rest making rear guard defense, arguably the most relaxing job on the trail. This week, Oiler was supposed to take rear guard, but there was some confusion. Bosun wanted it (as did the rest of the steamheads, truth be told), but it really was Oiler's turn. Didn't matter. Bosun wanted to fight for it. Took three people to break up the scuffle, me and Twitch running interference while Head shouted at both of them for being stupid... and he was right, but nobody wanted to hear it from Head. This only got Bosun more pissed off, and he ended up charging Head and knocking him pretty good across the noggin, making him swell up even more. I had to bandage the kid back up, and talk him down from a fight. All in all, Oiler still got rear guard, but we didn't get out of there until near sundown, which meant we had to shoot our way out of town. Had a couple shriekers needed to be picked off (I was riding the whip on top of our lead steamer), but they weren't much of a problem. The dretches coming out of the woodwork were worse, since they're fat and tend to kind of explode when you hit 'em, which gunks up the machines; Twitch got two, and Bosun ran another three over in the steamer. We didn't even get to Omaha until almost midday, which meant a whole morning wasted when we should've been set up and ready to search during the bright hours.

Stupid fucking time. At least we got here safe. As it stands, the troupe's just about ready to go on reconnoiter; let's see if the land of corn and honey has much left to offer instead of old, melted electronics and mutant bovines.

=Dr. Bones, Survivalist, 4 Years Post-Fall Log Completed, 3rd week of Summer, 3:48 PM

Wednesday, June 18, 2008

On The Nature of Distraction

It's strange how time seems to mean so little when you don't sleep. Supposedly, the body uses things like sleep to regulate our perception of an abstract, namely time. However, in this modern age of time-keeping pieces, sundials, and water clocks, that internalized system has become not only obsolete, but redundant.

I look at the clock on the computer. It says one thing, one thing which I could take as fact. However, the clock on my phone says a different, though similar thing. Do I take that as fact? Or how about the clock by my bed, reading an entirely different interpretation of time itself? Is that to be believed as correct? Or the clocks in the bathroom, one of which never changes, the other of which never stays consistent or still, the two in constant conflict?

Not that we can trust these external systems anyway. Even things which are considered givens, namely the day-night cycle, are inconsistent and improper as means of demarcating a concept: During the summer the time of light is longer than the time of dark, and vice-versa in the winter... but only in the north. And only sometimes. To the extremes, things normalize, with what essentially amounts to six months of light followed by six months of dark... months themselves only confusing matters more. And what of the equator, where day-night cycles are constant but there are no seasons to base other things off of, with the exception of a singular rainy season that lasts anywhere from one "week" to four "months" depending on the year and precipitation collection elsewhere, and the modification of various fronts of warm and cold air, not to mention global climate change?

My computer says 1:06 AM. My phone says 1:04 AM. The clock by the bed reads 1:29. The analog clock in the bathroom reads 6:00, while the digital clock flashes a steady 11:38 PM. Eventually these numbers will blur, and when the Witching Hour hits, it won't really matter anyway. The ghouls will come, their stinking breath and festering promises seeping through the cracks in the windows like an icy fog. Roiling and swelling and receding just as fast, they will pass, as they always do, though they ravage the streets of any poor sap that happens to be caught outside. The shutters will be down over the window, the locks secured, the lights on outside, though inside is only darkness.

And when you can't sleep, that darkness won't let you know you're failing in your singular Herculean task of human stability: sleep. If it weren't for the glow of this monitor reflecting off the pistol in my lap, I'd never be able to tell if I was awake or dreaming.

I never wanted to sleep to begin with; I just hope the dreaming is a few more hours away.

=Dr. Bones, Survivalist, 4 Years Post-Fall Log Completed, "1:10 AM"

Thursday, March 20, 2008

The State of the Union

There's been a strange trend in America lately, one of scandal and outrage, spying and glorification of espionage. In a recently-released statement, it was found that Bill Clinton rendezvous'd with Ms. Lewinsky while Hillary was home. And not just 'home'... In the White House itself. Thanks to some sort of disclosure running out, the records of Hillary's daily schedule for quite a long time (some 11,000 pages worth) were released by the National Archives, along with a huge mountain of raw data gathered elsewhere.

There are some who are supporting Hillary now more than ever thanks to the releasing and subsequent dissemination of this information; they admire her courage to stand by her man as he cheated on her under her nose. They think it is noble that she faced public humiliation time and time again and yet had the strength to stick with it, and now she's trying to get herself into a position to make things right.

On the other hand, there are those that are condemning Hillary more than ever over the very same things. They aren't sure they trust someone who could stand by her man as he abused her in a roundabout way, humiliating her over and over, forcing her into a spotlight -- and a position -- that she never asked to be put in. Many would say they think it is better when a person in an abusive or otherwise unsavory relationship comes to her senses and steps forward than to stick with it, trying to salvage something that might never have been in the first place.

My position and thoughts on the matter: Who the fuck cares? What business is it of ours, the general public, to pry into these peoples' lives with such vigor, to feast upon their inequities and flaws like slavering animals, to continually rip at the carcass of their underlives, bringing them into the open? Are we truly so mindless, so starved for fanaticism, that we must look inward to destroy what we already have than to look outward and hope to expose and, ideally, rectify issues -- which, arguably, are much more dangerous and pressing -- in the global reality?

JFK had a number of affairs both foreign and domestic, and nobody said a word until after his death. Hell, let's go further back: Jefferson had affairs with his slaves and fathered a number of illegitimate black children that we're only just now figuring out. Did this stop them from being excellent leaders? Did these revelations suddenly reverse the good that they did while running the country? Are they now to be vilified and left for dead in the annals of history as adulterers?

For a long time, things like leaders' private lives were taboo subjects for reporters and newspeople. Despite the sheer amount of dirt they may have had, unless it had something to do with a president's professional life and conduct (Watergate, anyone?) it was off-limits. And really, I think that's the way it should be. These people, for better or for worse, were elected by the people they were sworn to serve. In reality, what they did behind closed doors was their business and their business alone; far be it from us to judge. Are we so perfect ourselves? Shit.

For decades, America has been viewed rather globally as something of a cesspit, this writhing mass of sin washed over with a veneer of pompous righteousness. It's a gross indignation and outrage that we as a collective can feel anything other than indifference towards such acts; when 50% of all marriages in the country end in divorce, when infidelity rates are through the roof, when lives are shattered and families torn asunder daily via the improprieties of the people who live them (remember, a full half of the population)... who the fuck are we to judge?

Final thought: What Bill does with his trouser snake is Bill's business. What Hillary chose to do when confronted with the information was her business. It's not mine, yours, or anybody else's. You could argue that it reflects on their abilities as a leader, but it really doesn't. Find me someone in a position of power who hasn't succumbed to some modicum of desire, privilege, or the benefits the prestige of their office grants them, and I will show you someone you know absolutely nothing about.

And to be honest, I don't really blame Bill. It seems like the marriage was political to begin with... and really, if I had to wake up next to H-Cli every day, see that face staring at me first thing in the morning, well. I'd be looking for some relief, too. I wouldn't let that anywhere NEAR my wet, sticky cigar.

Sunday, March 9, 2008

Wherein I Discuss My Relationship With Cigarettes

I bought a pack of cigarettes today (for those that must know, I bought them to sell; there's quite the amount of money to be gained from selling cigarettes to desperate college kids who are too lazy to go to the store themselves. One pack of cigarettes is about 20 cigs at around 5 bucks a pack depending on brand; sell those at two bucks a piece, you're making a 35 dollar profit. And people will pay it, because people are lazy) and on the front is a notice about how the tobacco contained in these cigarettes "mostly" comes from family-owned and operated tobacco farms. Camel filters, Turkish blend. You think the starving family tobacco farmers in Turkey care about how their crop is being used?

Before you go off on me, keep in mind I'm utilizing this as an extreme way to illustrate a point. People have been farming tobacco across the pond since before we were a twinkle in the New World's eye. I have little doubt that for millenia the various hashish smoking cultures have been cutting their grass with tobacco (or a very similar herb) in order to make it more 'friendly'; I know the old adage that if you don't cough, you don't get off, but c'mon; who actually likes hacking up a lung in an attempt to get high, other than dumb preteens in middle school who think being high is the single most awesome attempt you can make at being an adult? (Kids: Don't do drugs irresponsibly. I'm a Doctor, and I approve this message.) So what's the upshot? Guilt.

Guilt is a powerful motivator in American society, especially since that whole Recycling boom in the 80's and 90's, which is yet another bullshit thing but I may touch on that later. Nowadays you can't spit without hitting a product that has been partially recycled to save the planet, or grown in a free-range chemical (or "enhancement")-free environment in an attempt to ensure the least possible amount of suffering. So now we have this whole subculture that is convinced that helping free-trade is THE way to exist.

Now, I have no problem with free-trade. It helps the global economy in a general sense and, more importantly, it makes people feel special. (Dear reader: please keep in mind I really have no issue with helping the global economy, but there are multiple ways to accomplish this goal, none of which are inherently bad with the exception of the reinstatement of slavery. YOUR VOTE COUNTS.) But there's this push, especially in the US, about buying all-organic or torture-free or something that would benefit the non-commercial. Now, keep in mind I found this on a package of cigarettes, an item known to kill, perhaps the single most damaging legalized product in the nation (with the exception of semi-automatic ammunition). A little friendly sticker on the front with an image of two hands clasping each other, letting me know about the poor Turkish farmers I was benefacting by buying this particular pack of cigarettes.

I swear to fuck this is some sort of guilt-trip for the rich, for people who don't have real problems. Because now they KNOW Camel is the brand that supports the global tobacco market, they have to buy Camels to show they care, care in supporting farmers while killing their own kin. It underlines a deeper problem, that of supreme dissatisfaction, of not being a real human unless you take these asinine measures to show you care... which beggars the question, how much can a smoker really CARE about starving families in Turkey who supply their habit?

Something to ponder.