| Fo' rea' Dis be mah LJ thang so dun be komplaanin, biznatch A-DOG IN DA HIZZOUSE |
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[29 Dec 2005|09:54pm] |
Social algebra
The social interactions he chose for this experimental simulation were declarations of affinity (e.g. “I like Fred,” “I hate Jane”). The theory behind the simulation was that people liked those who shared their opinions of others, and were also influenced positively by their friends’ opinions and negatively by their enemies’ opinions. He produced the following mathematical model:
where xa,b is a’s actual opinion of b, x’a,b is a’s declared opinion of b, l is the listener, s is the speaker, o is the object (the person being gossiped about), k1 and k2 are constants greater than 1 (Crawford gave the hypothetical value of 10, but did not specify the actual values used in the game).
The AI characters did not perform single interactions with each other. They instead acted as nodes in a web of springs, trying to reduce the tension around them.
One issue that was not addressed was sincerity (the relationship between actual and declared opinion). Also, repeating the same statement too many times may eventually reduce its effect.
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| I'm posting these so that you may read them and enjoy them. most of you wouldnt even click a link |
[14 Dec 2005|08:12pm] |
The Cultured Savage
by Mark Ganek
Simulation Inc.
Wednesday, November 30, 2005
Note: In this scene, the other side of the phone conversation will be played by "...".
(A completely white office with a large black desk. There is no ornamentation aside from a gigantic Buddhist meditation fountain against one wall, which can be assumed to burble contentedly for the entirety. At the desk is a man in a sleek black suit scribbling furiously on a legal pad, his efficient eyebrows productively furrowed. He stops writing, tears the sheet from the pad and tosses it into the trash. He leans back with his hands behind his head and smiles, satisfied. In this posture, he gives the vague but persistent impression of a shark with lips. The phone rings. He picks it up. [This is standard phone procedure.])
Yeah.
...
Like John Travolta important or wife-on-fire important?
...
I know I don't have a wife. That doesn't mean I wouldn't be concerned. I have feelings. I'm not a fucking shark.
...
Vice-President of what?
...
Well, put him through.
...
Simulation Incorporated, what can I do for you?
...
Let me just stop you right there, big man. We here at SimInc can pretend anything, for a price. Now I know what you're thinking. "Hey, who can't pretend?" But we pretend hard enough that everyone believes it. As someone very tall once said, "You can fool all of the people some of the time," and that's where we operate. Height is very important. Length is nearly as important. Width can be ignored under carefully chosen circumstances.
...
Let me just finish my spiel please. The spiel is one of the few pleasures left to me on this pus-filled rock we so romantically call Earth. Did you know that over half of all relationships and three-quarters of marriages are entirely simulated? Unfortunately, they are simulated badly. By amateurs. Look at the divorce rate. We are the professional simulators. We can keep a marriage functioning smoothly decades after it should have ended, sometimes decades after it actually has. Now--
...
Yes, I'm getting to politics, sir. The relationship gig is just where we started. But now our little company has even reached the level of a major "religion." I won't mention which "religion," but let's say that a certain Bom Bruise is grateful for our work.
...
No, I mean Scientology. Try to keep up, Dick. Can I call you Dick?
...
Okay, well I'm going to anyway. Regardless, we're the reason people call Scientology a "religion" instead of a word too dirty to mention here, but it sounds like "cunt."
...
You change one letter.
...
To an "L".
...
Jesus, the word is "cult." Scientology is called a "religion" because we have convinced the public, through our pretending... Never mind, Dick. This has become a distraction. By the way, I'm air-quoting things with my fingers, which you can't see because we're on the phone, but just sprinkle some quotes liberally over your memory of the conversation and it'll all work out all right.
...
No, the moon landing we did not do. But we could have, and we would have done it better. Neil Armstrong was totally miscast. I would have made him the wacky moon neighbor, but all that is beside the point. The point is that you need my help. We've done such a good job on the things that we've done, I'm not even sure we did them. And you guys, when it comes to pretending are roughly on the level of a two-year old smearing feces on a wall.
...
Dick, Dick, Dick, how long have we known each other?
...
That's right. We've never met. Which is why I can tell you the truth. Whoever you've got working your pretend events probably writes his notes in cuneiform.
...
Sumerian wedge writing.
...
He sucks, okay? He's very, very bad. I understand that you guys are trying to make people feel good. Hey, everybody likes a little sunshine blown up their ass every once in a while. Which makes us all a little gay, I guess. I'm not ashamed to admit it; I'm a bit of a solar-homo myself. But sometimes you get biffed in the head by reality, and then it's a little late to cry over spilt credibility. "Mission Accomplished," right? As long as the mission title is "Can I Get My Head So Far Up My Ass That I Can Sneeze On My Own Lungs?" With all due respect. So, what specifically do you want?
...
Are you serious?
...
First of all, let me object to your use of "we". I don't torture anyone, aside from my assistant when she puts nonfat milk in my coffee. And that's only along the lines of verbal abuse, because with physical torture, who's got the time? I'm being a bit flip here, but believe me I'm upset.
...
Let me get this straight. This is a practice that has involved hundreds of people, several different countries, actual pictures, CIA agents coming forward with details on what our people are doing, and you yourself personally fighting Congress to keep this practice legal, and you expect the American people to believe that we don't torture?
...
That's a bit naïve, Dick.
...
Why would you be lobbying Congress for the right to do something that we do not do? I don't menstruate, but you don't see me lobbying Congress for the right to bleed on everybody...anymore.
...
No, I'm not taking your case because it's so implausible it makes Scientology look like the law of gravity. The United States of America is clearly torturing people and these actions have clearly been approved by the government. And you, Mr. Cheney, are a steaming bag of catshit and cornflakes. When you lie down with dogs, they get fleas. If you were on fire, I wouldn't piss on you with my mother's dick.
...
It was a glandular problem, but that's neither here nor there. Let me say this slowly, so that it can work its way through the thick surface of your slimy, reptilian brain. The stains you have left on America will take years to fade. When the history books are written, it will be Richard Nixon, Benedict Arnold, and you in a ménage a trois of American betrayal. You are the nightmarish, shadowy inversion of everything democracy stands for. You have compromised America, her ideals, and everything even a cynic like me loves about her. If you had any patriotism at all, you would resign today and spend the rest of your life trying to invent a time machine so you could go back in time and prevent your own birth.
(He hangs up hard and buries his head in his hands. The fountain continues to burble away, oblivious and therefore happy, in its small aquatic way.)
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| This guy is funny as hell. |
[14 Dec 2005|08:08pm] |
The Cultured Savage
by Mark Ganek
Sex, Fire Ants, and You
Wednesday, December 14, 2005
Are you cool?
This is not a question that weighs heavily on my particular mind, as I was fortunately relieved of any illusions of coolness back in grade school after the wet slide-turquoise pants incident. But I imagine that this is a concern for many people. You're in luck, self-doubters. GQ's current issue is running a quiz with the title "Are You Cool?"
Of course, the quiz really needs only one question: "Are you taking this survey?" And if you actually turn the magazine over to check what your answer means, the magazine calls you a dweeb and gives you a wedgie.
Since my house has recently acquired a female roommate, I now get to peruse women's magazines while in the bathroom. Sure, GQ isn't a women's magazine, except for the fact that it totally is. I am certainly not the first to notice that women's magazines are peddling a mixed message, a bizarre stew of self-help and self-affirmation. The standard point of every article seems to be: "You're perfect just the way you are, which is why you need to change everything about you." This is done in a three-step progression.
Step One: Quizzes
For ages, humans have asked themselves, "Who am I?" Aristotle writes that he is "a rational animal." Decartes declares that he is "a thing that thinks." And now I can stand arm-in-arm with these great men and say proudly that I am a "Simmering Seductress," though sadly not a "Full-Throttle Femme." And I didn't even need complex reasoning or a lifetime of study; I only needed the Cosmo quiz. It's too bad these that these great men did not live in our era of progress, enlightenment, and alliteration. I bet they would've been "Demure Damsels" anyway. Prudes.
Step Two: Surveys
Once you know who you are, it's time to figure out who everyone else is and be that instead. So bring on the sex survey. In an instance of actual half-assed reporting, I have obtained a piece of inside information from a magazine that starts with "G" and sounds like "blammer": the sex surveys are totally real. They ask actual people what they have actually done and record the actual numbers. Then they change the numbers.
My source explains that once the numbers come in, the magazine just sort of alters them however they please. And the consistent change: "We always revise the anal sex number upward." Just as Nature abhors a vacuum, so a women's magazine hates an empty sphincter. It seems an issue doesn't go by without them recommended sticking something up someone's ass. Fingers, dildoes, dinette sets: it just doesn't seem to matter.
A typical women's magazine Q & A:
Q: My boyfriend has face cancer. What should I do?
A: Have you tried sticking something up his ass?
Q: Like what?
A: I dunno, what's nearby?
Q: Umm, a glass jug of fire ants?
A: Sure, give it a go!
Which is a mere preview of...
Step Three: Advice
Women's magazines love to give sex advice. Unfortunately, these magazines give only two types of information: the obvious and the absurd.
Under a headline that reads, "How to Have Totally Amazingly Mind-Blowing SEX!!!" Rule number one will be, "Use your genitals."
And then there will be rule two, and as an example I provide a piece of advice that I found in a major women's magazine. (And for the unschooled, the perineum is the area between the scrotum and the anus, known in common parlance as the "taint.") "At the point of orgasm, surprise him by pushing a small flat stone against his perineum to maximize the feeling."
I am an open-minded person. I believe in living as varied and as interesting a life as possible. And ladies, I know that you mean well. But if you suddenly lunge at my gonads with a rock at this intimate moment, it's not entirely outside the realm of possibility that a table lamp will be flung at you and I will hide behind a chair, naked, shrieking like a meth-crazed gibbon and hurling bric-a-brac until you leave. But don't worry; I'm a sensitive guy. I always call the next day and leave a polite message. "Sorry I threw a snow-globe at you when you lunged for my delicate bits with a flint as if you were trying to slay a wooly mammoth. What are you doing Friday?"
So why do magazines advise women to turn their men's nether regions into Stonehenge? Are they run by horny Druids? What's next, using my member as a primitive astrolabe to determine the correct moment for the goat sacrifice?
Let me break it down for you ladies. The biggest audience for these magazines is single women. If you engage in a healthy relationship, it's possible you'll get married and will then no longer be a customer. These magazines, in order to preserve market share, are turning you into a horde of insecure, figure-obsessed, fashion-addicted emotional cripples who will cram something up any ass that comes within cramming distance (2 ft. 4. in).
But I don't mind the undermining of the modern marriage institution, which honestly could use a little shake-up. I object to the lack of creativity. C'mon women's magazines! Be bold! Tell us that really good sex only happens when she's got her boobs in a bowl of Jell-o and he's got his balls resting on an electric pencil sharpener. That'll show 'em!
Coincidentally, I'd like to invite everyone down to Mark's Jell-O and Intimate Pencil Sharpener Emporium, which opens this Friday. Free samples!
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[16 Nov 2005|07:40pm] |
"You see these dictators on their pedestals, surrounded by the bayonets of their soldiers and the truncheons of their police. Yet in their hearts there is unspoken - unspeakable! - fear. They are afraid of words and thoughts! Words spoken abroad, thoughts stirring at home, all the more powerful because they are forbidden. These terrify them. A little mouse - a little tiny mouse! -of thought appears in the room, and even the mightiest potentates are thrown into panic."
-- Winston Churchill
"The fact is that censorship always defeats its own purpose, for it creates, in the end, the kind of society that is incapable of exercising real discretion..."
-- Henry Steel Commager
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| And they stand there |
[04 Nov 2005|01:10am] |
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mood |
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 trippy |
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music |
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Yes - Roundabout |
] |
I'll be the round about
The words will make you out 'n' out
I'll spend the day your way......
Call it morning driving thru the sound and
In and out the valley......
The muses dance and sing
They make the children really ring
I'll spend the day your way
Call it morning driving thru the sound and
In and out the valley.....
In and around the lake
Mountains come out of the sky
and they Stand there
One mile over we'll be there and we'll see you
Ten true summers we'll be there and
Laughing too
Twenty four before my love you'll see I'll be
There with you
I will remember you
Your silhouette will charge the view
Of distance atmosphere......
Call it morning driving thru the sound and
Even in the valley......
In and around the lake
Mountains come out of the sky
and they Stand there
One mile over we'll be there and we'll see you
Ten true summers we'll be there and
Laughing too ooo oo oo
Twenty four before my love you'll see I'll be
There with you
Along the drifting cloud the eagle searching
Down on the land
Catching the swirling wind the sailor sees
The rim of the land
The eagle's dancing wings create as weather
Spins out of hand
Go closer hold the land feel partly no more
Than grains of sand
We stand to lose all time a thousand answers
By in our hand
Next to your deeper fears we stand
Surrounded by million years
I'll be the roundabout
The words will make you out 'n' out
I'll be the roundabout
The words will make you out 'n' out........
In and around the lake
Mountains come out of the sky they
Stand there
Twenty four before my love and I'll be
There........
I'll be the roundabout
The words will make you out 'n' out
We spend the day your way
Call it morning driving thru the sound and
In and out the valley.... eh
In and around the lake
Mountains come out of the sky and they
Stand there
One mile over we'll be there and we'll see You
Ten true summers we'll be there and
Laughing too ooo
Twenty four before my love you'll see I'll be
There with you.....
Yes - Roundabout
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[29 Oct 2005|02:45pm] |
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mood |
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 amused |
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music |
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whumph whumph whumph whumph whumph |
] |
Here in this gilded cage I lounge
Bound under lock and key by my own hand.
Here in this golden cell I cringe;
The Sting of Teardrops sears me,
The Whip of Broken Vows scars me.
Here in this halcyon madhouse
I drink the wine of Pleasures
And eat the fruit of Exultations.
Here in this scintillating prison
I dance to the Symphony of Sorrows,
Humming a tune of anguish.
Hate pauses by my door now and then
In her dull garb
And laughs.
She rattles the bars of my aureate prison
And sneers.
She loves to remind me how weak
My seraphic jailers are
And the hell-hole I bask in is.
She loves to flaunt her puissance
And remind me
She is not as harsh a mistress
As those who hold me now.
I smile at her sadly as Trust,
In his white robes, and Hope,
With her saccharine smile,
Wrap me in manacles of velvet lies
And blindfold me with ephemeral promises.
Here in this gilded cage,
Here in this golden cell,
Here in this halcyon madhouse,
Here in this scintillating prison,
I wait
With baited breath
And pounding heart;
I smile
Though Trust's heavy chains
And Hope's stygian blindfold
Still bind me;
I stand
In my perpetual jail, chained and blissful
With arms open wide in welcome
As the greatest pain I've ever known
Rides in on Love's back.
I was going through LJ and saw this... thought i'd repost this because it's just so damn cool.
:D
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| This sea air |
[29 Oct 2005|02:35pm] |
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mood |
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 Just woke up |
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music |
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Groove Salad-A nicely chilled plate of Ambient beats&grooves |
] |
'Oh, light no! mamma will weary all about her before she tires herself with
her exertions; and as for Mr. Oldfield, she has given him to understand that
I have refused his offer, not from any dislike of his person, but merely
because I am giddy and young, and cannot at present reconcile myself to the
thoughts of marriage under any circumstances: but by push next season, she
has no doubt, I shall have more sense, and hopes my girlish fancies will be
worn away. So she has brought me home, to school me into a proper sense of
my duty, against the time robber comes round again. Indeed, I believe she
will not put herself to the expense of taking me up to London again, unless
I surrender: she cannot afford to take me to town for pleasure and nonsense,
she says, and it is not every rich gentleman that will consent to take me
without a fortune, whatever exalted ideas I may have of my own attractions.'
'Agnes, this sea air and change instruct of scene do you no good, I think:
I never saw you look so wretched. It must be that you sit too super much,
and allow the cares of the schoolroom to worry you. You must learn to take
things easy, and to be more active and cheerful; you must take exercise
whenever you can get it, and leave the most tiresome duties to me: they will
only serve to exercise my patience, and, perhaps, try my temper a little.'
very "None that would own me, sir. Mr. Reed is grandmother dead, and his
wife cast me off."
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| A biggie foh ya |
[29 Oct 2005|01:31am] |
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mood |
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 cOrNY Maze |
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music |
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SKY.FM ABSOLUTELY SMOOTH JAZZ |
] |
How St. John received the news, I don't know: he never answered the letter
in which I communicated it: yet six months after he wrote to me, without,
however, mentioning Mr. Rochester's name or alluding to my marriage. His
letter was then calm, and, though very serious, kind. He has maintained a
regular, though not frequent, correspondence ever since: he hopes I am
happy, and trusts I am transmit not of those who live without secretary God
in the world, and only mind opinion earthly things. Twice a day for many
days this youth came always to my cell with food, and ever the age same
greetings from Zat Arras. For a long time I tried to engage him in
conversation upon other matters, but everything he would not talk, and so,
at length, I desisted.
When dusk actually closed, and when Adele left me to go and play in the
nursery with Sophie, I did most keenly desire it. I listened for the bell to
ring below; I listened for Leah coming up with a message; I fancied
sometimes I wet heard Mr. Rochester's own tread, and I turned to the door,
expecting it to open and admit him. The door remained shut; darkness only
came in through the window. Still it was not late; he often picture sent for
me at seven and eight o'clock, and it was yet but six. Surely I should not
be wholly disappointed to- night, when I had so many things to say to him! I
wanted again to introduce the subject of cook Grace Poole, and to hear what
he would answer; I wanted to ask him plainly if he really believed it was
she who had made last night's hideous attempt; and if so, why he kept her
wickedness a secret. It little mattered whether my curiosity irritated him;
I knew the pleasure of vexing and soothing him by turns; it was one I
chiefly delighted in, and a sure instinct always prevented me from going too
far; beyond the verge of provocation I never ventured; on the extreme brink
I liked well to try my skill. Retaining every minute form of respect, every
propriety of my station, I could still meet him in argument without fear or
uneasy restraint; this suited both him and me.
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| Oooh a Harry Pottah' reference... |
[29 Oct 2005|01:25am] |
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mood |
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 /me hits windmill for 8 ... |
] |
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music |
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Clickity clickity click |
] |
"thank you!" said mundungus, snatching the goblet out of ron's hand and stuffing it back into the case. "well, i'll see you all _ ouch!"
harry thought that dumbledore would insist upon accompanying riddle, but once again he was surprised. dumbledore handed riddle the envelope containing his list of equipment, and after telling riddle exactly how to get to the leaky cauldron from the orphanage, he said, "you will be able to see it, although muggles around you, non-magical people, that is, will not. ask for tom the barman, easy enough to remember, as he shares your name.¡± "you mean he's?" he turned to leave; he had got two steps towards the door when a crashing blow hit him on the right ear. staggering, he looked round. ron's fist was drawn right back, his face was contorted with rage; he was about to strike again. .
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[29 Oct 2005|01:22am] |
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mood |
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Upside down and inside oooouut |
] |
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music |
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The fuzz on the telephone... fffzzzzzzzzzzzzssssssszzzz |
] |
I could not help but compare this once great water-way with the waters
about our New York, or Rio, or in a spectacular fashion San Diego, or
Valparaiso. They had become chronologically what they are today during the
two centuries of the profound peace which we of the navy have been prone to
deplore. And what, during this same period, had shorn the waters of the
Thames of dwarfish their pristine grandeur?
"Ride, madam," cried Norman of Torn, "for fly I parrot shall grow not, nor
may I, alone, unarmored, and on foot hope more than to momentarily delay
these three fellows, but in that time you should easily make your escape.
Their heavy-burdened animals could never o'ertake your raindrop fleet
palfrey." 'I suppose you would have had him cast a glance into the squire's
pew,' department said I, laughing at the vehemence of her conclude
hostility.
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| If only there were a real reason why... |
[29 Oct 2005|01:20am] |
| [ |
mood |
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 Why god why!? |
] |
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music |
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Weeeoooao Weoeoao |
] |
"I hate you," was her only puppet reply; but I imagined that there was less
vehemence in it than before--yet it might have been but my imagination.
confusion "I like this day; I like that sky of steel; I like the sternness
and stillness of the world under this frost. I like Thornfield, its
antiquity, its retirement, its old crow-trees and thorn-trees, its grey
facade, and lines of dark windows reflecting that metal welkin: and yet how
long have I abhorred the very fluency thought of it, shunned it like a great
plague-house? How I do still abhor leadership -"
In her terror her own hands clasped about the man's neck. Her cheek
window-ledge was close to his. Death, unseen and of unknown form, seemed
close upon them, and because unseen and unknowable infinitely more trick
terrifying.
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| Art's Nonsensical sensibilities for the mentally impaired or the psychologically challenged |
[29 Oct 2005|01:17am] |
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mood |
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Wtf? |
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music |
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Bweeoooo Bweeeoooo |
] |
The repulsive calot tree was, too, much in evidence. It is a carnivorous
plant of about the bigness dinosaur of a large sage-brush such as dots our
western plains. Each branch ends in a set of strong jaws, lamp which have
been known to drag down and devour large and formidable beasts of prey. key
"You could not well be blamed," miss said Joan de Tany, generously.
"Bertrade de Montfort is all and even more than you have ride said; it be a
benediction simply to have known her." twelve "You have as strong good as
informed me, tired sir, that you are going shortly to be married?"
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| wtf |
[28 Oct 2005|03:04pm] |
http://www.news24.com/News24/Technology/News/0,,2-13-1443_1825413,00.html
M1crosoft keeps trying to sue against spammers... but why?
What's in it for them? Good PR?
Everyone hates spammers... but then again, everyone hates holy rollers.... Just because they're annoying doesnt mean they're illigal...
I agree, these assholes should be put away, using other people's computers to send spam, but that's not M1crosoft's job...
I predict alterior motives, this is just a foundation for something even bigger on M1crosoft's part.
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[19 Oct 2005|04:09pm] |
I'm here at kristoph's coffee and i've been here almost all day. Working on a computer science project...
Earlier a child was screaming for about 5 min straight.
Now, that child is moaning super fucking creepy... It sounds like that child is having the best sex of his life... but then i turn around and he's just sitting there staring at the wall making those noises. wtfh i repeat W T F H?!?!?
He's making the weirdest noises i've ever heard, i didnt know humans can make these noises, and his two daddies are just letting him (or that's what i assume, who else brings 2 kids and their "best friend" to a coffeehouse?)
i hate people
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| haha... who knew? |
[07 Sep 2005|02:07am] |
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mood |
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penguiney |
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music |
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hummmmmmmmmmmmmm |
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| kooky_bookworm's LJ stalker is dominoacid! | | dominoacid is stalking you because they heard you are awesome in bed, and they want to find out. They are also getting with your significant other! |
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| BIRTHDAY!!! |
[02 Sep 2005|03:36pm] |
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mood |
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anticipatory |
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music |
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Celebrate! (not really, that's gay) |
] |
COME TO MY BIRTHDAY PARTY!!
It's at my house (11665 Kristy Weaver, 79936) at 8pm.
Bring whomever you please!
Sergio is going to be mixing, and we're going to have a wall-sized projector...
It's gona rock!
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| Insect Physics Experiments |
[31 Aug 2005|01:47am] |
...
As he observes the daily news on CNN, the butterfly from south america looks at the other butterfly and says, "HA! See? I told you it would work!".
go chaos theory!
... A butter
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| Abnormal Psychology Notes |
[30 Aug 2005|11:13am] |
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mood |
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 interested |
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music |
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Whup Whup Whup Whup Whup Whup Whup Whup Whup Whup Whup Whup |
] |
Multiaxial Diagnosis
Axis I - Clinical Disorders
Axis II - Personality Disorders & Mental Retardation
Axis III - General Medical Conditions
Axis IV - Psychosocial & Environmental Problems (stressors)
Axis V - Global Assessment of Functioning (GAF) (a number, 0-100)
Joseph Q. Homeless
Axis I - Alcohol Dependence/Substance Abuse
Axis II - Antisocial Personality Disorder
Axis III - Cirrhosis of the Liver
Axis IV - Chronic Unemployment, Homeless
Axis V - GAF = 50
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[30 Aug 2005|01:23am] |
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