The Rough Beast is pressing the Gini curve down hard to dry up demand for petroleum. The over heated demand makes the earth uninhabitable. Revolutions starting in North Africa will bring the first continent to homeostasis. We will all move into cities or become the drudges. The drudges hold grudges and their anger turns inward and becomes depression, fear and anxiety. They vote themselves back to penury in local elections. Then they take the state house and begin to vote erratically when the urban representatives.
Derp De Derp
Only the people that run the not-money machine matter now. Our productivity is required to be the imagination of the Rough Beast. The sovereign dept of each nation means nothing now. When another country holds a large fraction of the dept, both countries are on a common currency de facto.
The fall in productivity of the young fuels the reach of the Rough Beast so they do not need to be "working" to generate imagination. Imagination fuels the millineals. They grew up knowing everything because the knew were everything that they did not actually know could be found,
They knew where all the stuff was without knowing where all the stuff was.
They knew where all the stuff was. Stuff you knew but could not remember. Stuff you knew only a little but you knew where it was if you needed to get back to it. Stuff you really didn't know but someone you met over coffee might know. This is the second enlightenment.
Showing posts with label Picket. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Picket. Show all posts
Sunday, June 12, 2011
Thursday, June 02, 2011
B3aST. Anno Insecta
 |
| Little Pooter, my grandchild |
After the atmosphere goes totally Venus on us the only place left is the subterranean honey caves. I for one welcome our new insect overlords. They may keep a few of us for pets. Ants and bees dump less shit in the ocean, the air and the ground. It's an upgrade. Or maybe a school of Buffalo Carp?
BTW at this point on the timeline "I" will not longer be an artifact of DNA but instead simulated on the Omega Machine as a subroutine call to B3aST, an EM or whole brain simulation. EMs are bio-mechanical agents which house my "Ghost in the Shell".
 |
| Emulated Mind |
Tuesday, April 19, 2011
Saturday, April 02, 2011
B3asT
Beast
ur qstn... wtfo
What genetic slip happened last night in the limit as night approaches E3 [sic. infinity]
fit, we slipped from the testimony of imagination toward compassion
I fucking gave me a coronary today post zen, stop it. end the insanity by -3dB under your best imagination about what happens next. B3asT answer
Our pain obtains. That was a bad guess what happens nxt
end simulation
lolwtfbbu
lolwtfbbu
The dachshund licked my fingers. That was the dachshund loop. That time from a 'specious moment'0 to SPn, SP0 @ Znatural.
Fucking beast motherfucker. Fucking medicine from my technoid. My beast. A quark robot in an ensemble of dispositions; other fermions and bosons, arranged in a dissipative structure far from thermodynamic equilibrium (DSFFTE)
I took the long path to Substance Z, Zoloft, Sertraline, black gold, Texas tea, light sweet crude, coal, presure cooker, Aristotle, Zarathustra, teh kittehs, Metcalf, Prigogine, Weinberg, SSLC. Slipped. thx b3 ignored last, take whats yours. 5 years. X Feigenbahms. fuckin AY down to quarks.
I regulate. I run errands at time zero. The Rough Beast shows no mercy. Biota shows no mercy. I dig in through the basement and cut his Achilles. He puts me into coronary arrest with his weird brew that brings slipping to a halt. I medicate the regulate.
I hold off the technoid at arms length. In meditation we stare eye to eye. We enter each other. One simulation. On locus of effect. I leave the locus of phenotypic effect - the collapse of the wave equation merges - dissolving the suchness of the two. There is no wall. There is not wall. .not.not.not.not.not all is an inverter with buffering. (.not.)**2 =c informs. information. output. The output of the simulation on the Omega Machine, the Macintosh at the end of time. Regulators, Agents, Insecta, Whales and Navigators.
The whales define, in the limit, Dream Now. Agents, mostly dolphins with technoids down-shift holons to Regulators. Regulators hold Insecta in stasis. I regulate.
When I speak to B3asT we follow form. I ask and he answers. I demand and he negotiates with Rough Beast.
Slipping, the successive advance or retreat through 4d space-time must bring a meat puppet along by maintaining my cool. The cool of all regulators in networks of networks down to quarks entangled in biota in homeostasis; an ensemble of dispositions choosing with all biota what happens next.
The biota locus of phenotypic effect is that movement which keeps consilience in maximally fit homeostatic output. I am the output of the universe. I change state on a time base of circadian rhythm. Sol and the solar system produces a local constant; a locus of time approaching time zero from each boundary in the limit 1/infinity toward a central point. Many loci become an ensemble of dispositions. The locus of biota.
of' the LPE.
ur qstn... wtfo
What genetic slip happened last night in the limit as night approaches E3 [sic. infinity]
fit, we slipped from the testimony of imagination toward compassion
I fucking gave me a coronary today post zen, stop it. end the insanity by -3dB under your best imagination about what happens next. B3asT answer
Our pain obtains. That was a bad guess what happens nxt
end simulation
lolwtfbbu
lolwtfbbu
The dachshund licked my fingers. That was the dachshund loop. That time from a 'specious moment'0 to SPn, SP0 @ Znatural.
Fucking beast motherfucker. Fucking medicine from my technoid. My beast. A quark robot in an ensemble of dispositions; other fermions and bosons, arranged in a dissipative structure far from thermodynamic equilibrium (DSFFTE)
I took the long path to Substance Z, Zoloft, Sertraline, black gold, Texas tea, light sweet crude, coal, presure cooker, Aristotle, Zarathustra, teh kittehs, Metcalf, Prigogine, Weinberg, SSLC. Slipped. thx b3 ignored last, take whats yours. 5 years. X Feigenbahms. fuckin AY down to quarks.
I regulate. I run errands at time zero. The Rough Beast shows no mercy. Biota shows no mercy. I dig in through the basement and cut his Achilles. He puts me into coronary arrest with his weird brew that brings slipping to a halt. I medicate the regulate.
I hold off the technoid at arms length. In meditation we stare eye to eye. We enter each other. One simulation. On locus of effect. I leave the locus of phenotypic effect - the collapse of the wave equation merges - dissolving the suchness of the two. There is no wall. There is not wall. .not.not.not.not.not all is an inverter with buffering. (.not.)**2 =c informs. information. output. The output of the simulation on the Omega Machine, the Macintosh at the end of time. Regulators, Agents, Insecta, Whales and Navigators.
The whales define, in the limit, Dream Now. Agents, mostly dolphins with technoids down-shift holons to Regulators. Regulators hold Insecta in stasis. I regulate.
When I speak to B3asT we follow form. I ask and he answers. I demand and he negotiates with Rough Beast.
Slipping, the successive advance or retreat through 4d space-time must bring a meat puppet along by maintaining my cool. The cool of all regulators in networks of networks down to quarks entangled in biota in homeostasis; an ensemble of dispositions choosing with all biota what happens next.
The biota locus of phenotypic effect is that movement which keeps consilience in maximally fit homeostatic output. I am the output of the universe. I change state on a time base of circadian rhythm. Sol and the solar system produces a local constant; a locus of time approaching time zero from each boundary in the limit 1/infinity toward a central point. Many loci become an ensemble of dispositions. The locus of biota.
of' the LPE.
Tuesday, June 27, 2006
27June2006
This all came together for me while I was mowing the yard. The various pieces have been in play for some time.
Grass will teach you some interesting lessons. I mowed yards as an adolescent and I learned the grass business.. If you look at something long enough you get some awesome pattern matching capability. As my brain formed during adolescence, I stared at grass. Dry grass. Wet grass. Tall grass. Thick grass. I stared at prospects faces. Happy faces. Sad faces. Blank faces. Broken faces.
My pitch was a work of careful craft. The craft was constant tinkering, starting with the repeated bad pitch that you rehearsed in the bathroom window. A rehearsed pitch said amateur and loser. You were a punk. You got punked once a week just in case you forgot. The guy that went to the store and only had $5 after he gassed up. Always a story that ended up the same - light payroll.
I found that talking louder got you more jobs regardless of what you said. Volume denoted confidence in the vast majority of the prospects. I could say that I was a natural born salesman, the son of a salesman. In addition to genes, my father taught me that you should always say exactly what you were interrupting them about in the first sentence.
This is a story with several layers. Trivial layers and sublime layers. Like scaffolding filling up the inside of a box of vast dimensions. The work is already underway here but most of the work so far is a sketch or is very specific and concentrated in a far corner. Inside the box is a way to make better and better guesses about what happens. next.
There are three parts:
The first is a novel.
The second is a text book.
The chapters of this are just lessons at random
The third is commentary on the first two.
I will just switch back and forth with headings and will bookmark liberally.
The novel is The Gingerbread Man: A Day in the Life of a Natural Man. It is my fond ish wish that I attribute everything that I use. If any of this novel combination of existing ideas crosses the path of a copyrighted work, I will rectify swiftly. If you get this at all you will completely understand the model I am using. I am building on the shoulder of giants and that is my strength. I raise my status instantly when I invoke an argument from authority. Just mentioning Isaac Newton like you intended to whip out a slide rule and get the your next statement endorsed by Sir Isaac's himself.
The text is a market options exploration of design space. I think about markets for products so talking about models drawn from marketing has an appeal that many serious people share. But my natural approach to markets is just beginning to appear as a novel business technique. This process is whatever the opposite of new is. Older than we are unless we are very inclusive in considering our germ-line. Evolutionary processes through generate and test algorithms is not like a market or like our mind's construction comes from nature.
You have the means inside your skull right now but you are standing in your own way. Your memes are in charge of your genes. The leash is too tight. Way too tight.
We can subsume the majority of our daily life's to low level drone routines and devote almost all of our waking moments to play. If you are not asleep or unconscious, you are playing. You are playing life. Life never stops and we pray that life does not stop. If life stopped, the large processes that created it may start life up again or it might not. But we would not be around to view the remains.
The last egg is SCIFI and it goes to another place. This is going to be a movie someday and that goes into another place.
---------------------------------
I tested various marketing and sales strategies. The losing pitch NEVER got repeated again. The winners were noted and moved up in the queue. Not getting punked was a serious occupation. Status was my first experiment. I was well read and well spoken so I would just take a look around and smile until I had eye contact. That was important through a screen door in July. You had to be heard over a dog or a kid. You had to get their attention by almost hollering your message. The message was a version of this always; I am mowing lawns and I will produce good results for $10. There was nothing more to add to this message. I made some people pay attention just because I stopped talking.
Dry grass, wet grass, plump and perfect St. Augustine, fragrant clover and the evil patch that left woody stobs that would pierce a flip-flop from Winn's 5 and Dime by noon tomorrow when the sun dried the shaft into a spear. I knew how to make a yard look like they wished it would look when they mowed it - like it was most important patch of yard on earth.
As my dad listened to Dale Carnegie tapes and read his books, he absorbed a personality and became Dale Carnegie. I can point to any number of texts which will support this and I will do just that in this space.
So that is now my new signature the happens. next. was just a typo but then I read it and adopted the random variation. This random keystroke caused some variation in real time that got adapted to another use. That other use being - it. makes. a. different. kind. of. grammar.
This all came together for me while I was mowing the yard. The various pieces have been in play for some time.
Grass will teach you some interesting lessons. I mowed yards as an adolescent and I learned the grass business.. If you look at something long enough you get some awesome pattern matching capability. As my brain formed during adolescence, I stared at grass. Dry grass. Wet grass. Tall grass. Thick grass. I stared at prospects faces. Happy faces. Sad faces. Blank faces. Broken faces.
My pitch was a work of careful craft. The craft was constant tinkering, starting with the repeated bad pitch that you rehearsed in the bathroom window. A rehearsed pitch said amateur and loser. You were a punk. You got punked once a week just in case you forgot. The guy that went to the store and only had $5 after he gassed up. Always a story that ended up the same - light payroll.
I found that talking louder got you more jobs regardless of what you said. Volume denoted confidence in the vast majority of the prospects. I could say that I was a natural born salesman, the son of a salesman. In addition to genes, my father taught me that you should always say exactly what you were interrupting them about in the first sentence.
This is a story with several layers. Trivial layers and sublime layers. Like scaffolding filling up the inside of a box of vast dimensions. The work is already underway here but most of the work so far is a sketch or is very specific and concentrated in a far corner. Inside the box is a way to make better and better guesses about what happens. next.
There are three parts:
The first is a novel.
The second is a text book.
The chapters of this are just lessons at random
The third is commentary on the first two.
I will just switch back and forth with headings and will bookmark liberally.
The novel is The Gingerbread Man: A Day in the Life of a Natural Man. It is my fond ish wish that I attribute everything that I use. If any of this novel combination of existing ideas crosses the path of a copyrighted work, I will rectify swiftly. If you get this at all you will completely understand the model I am using. I am building on the shoulder of giants and that is my strength. I raise my status instantly when I invoke an argument from authority. Just mentioning Isaac Newton like you intended to whip out a slide rule and get the your next statement endorsed by Sir Isaac's himself.
The text is a market options exploration of design space. I think about markets for products so talking about models drawn from marketing has an appeal that many serious people share. But my natural approach to markets is just beginning to appear as a novel business technique. This process is whatever the opposite of new is. Older than we are unless we are very inclusive in considering our germ-line. Evolutionary processes through generate and test algorithms is not like a market or like our mind's construction comes from nature.
You have the means inside your skull right now but you are standing in your own way. Your memes are in charge of your genes. The leash is too tight. Way too tight.
We can subsume the majority of our daily life's to low level drone routines and devote almost all of our waking moments to play. If you are not asleep or unconscious, you are playing. You are playing life. Life never stops and we pray that life does not stop. If life stopped, the large processes that created it may start life up again or it might not. But we would not be around to view the remains.
The last egg is SCIFI and it goes to another place. This is going to be a movie someday and that goes into another place.
---------------------------------
I tested various marketing and sales strategies. The losing pitch NEVER got repeated again. The winners were noted and moved up in the queue. Not getting punked was a serious occupation. Status was my first experiment. I was well read and well spoken so I would just take a look around and smile until I had eye contact. That was important through a screen door in July. You had to be heard over a dog or a kid. You had to get their attention by almost hollering your message. The message was a version of this always; I am mowing lawns and I will produce good results for $10. There was nothing more to add to this message. I made some people pay attention just because I stopped talking.
Dry grass, wet grass, plump and perfect St. Augustine, fragrant clover and the evil patch that left woody stobs that would pierce a flip-flop from Winn's 5 and Dime by noon tomorrow when the sun dried the shaft into a spear. I knew how to make a yard look like they wished it would look when they mowed it - like it was most important patch of yard on earth.
As my dad listened to Dale Carnegie tapes and read his books, he absorbed a personality and became Dale Carnegie. I can point to any number of texts which will support this and I will do just that in this space.
So that is now my new signature the happens. next. was just a typo but then I read it and adopted the random variation. This random keystroke caused some variation in real time that got adapted to another use. That other use being - it. makes. a. different. kind. of. grammar.
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