robotmonkeys

the monkeys know all

Category: personal

  • San Francisco is a rotten heart

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    San Francisco is the TechBro city, that maintains being the center of culture of the bay through inertia. The creativity is rotten, and what is good continues only because it hasn’t gotten the signal heart has stopped. It is the cells that continue to metabolize and conduct mitosis even after the heart has stopped.

    San Jose is what it’s been for 40 years. A bedroom community. Immigrants for tech firms and the support of people and white collar jobs. At its best, it’s granola culture suburbs.

    Oakland is rough and forgotten town. It’s where the conscious is. It’s genuine.

  • Gone Soft

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    Things have changed since my day.

    We used to have ways to handle problems like this.

    *coughing fit*

    Now they can’t even keep “Big Ballz” out of the CIA.

    *takes a drag off a cigarette*

  • It’s Not Activism, It’s Advertising

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    Ed Note: This was originally a thread on Mastodon.

    It’s no secret that I am very skeptical of protests in the United States, and even more skeptical of the Democratic Party. I’m almost 50 years old, and I think I’ve only seen lefties win two things: gay marriage and AIDS funding. That’s pretty much it, and I doubt that’s a coincidence.

    Americans voted Trump back into the White House and he’s predictably being not only openly corrupt, but illegally dismantling the government and violating court orders. That of course isn’t when ICE isn’t grabbing people off the street and shipping them off without due process to a prison in El Salvador. It’s not a coincidence that Peter Theil and Elon Musk are at the center of all of this, and every “policy” sounds like something spouted by some dipshit in a university ACM office circa 1995. Today, it’s saying that birthright citizenship isn’t real. Tomorrow, it’s saying that you can’t truly be free until we reëstablish chattel slavery. But I digress.

    On the bright side, there’s a real hunger for activism on the left and center. People are fucking pissed. The Democratic Party of course isn’t up to meeting the moment. They’re a bunch of octogenarians still shell shocked from the 1980 presidential election and Vietnam. In this vacuum, one organization has sprung up to meet the demand: the 50501 Movement.

    Now what I’m about to say isn’t just about the 50501 Movement. It’s about contemporary lefty activism in general. It’s just that the 50501 Movement is the newest and most high profile, and arguably successful group around today. They are the perfect embodiment of lefty activism in the early 21st century.

    50501 seemed to just appear wholly formed on the scene a few months ago. Fifty protests in fifty state capitals; one movement. They hit the moment. Before they showed up, I was feeling anxious as were others in my milieu. “When are we going to start protesting?” “Why isn’t anyone standing up against this?” Then 50501 made a post on Reddit and it kicked off a lot more than 50 protests. I attended a couple. I’m skeptical of protests as I said, but I was also wanting people in the streets, so go do it.

    It was so normie and safe. The first flyer I saw repeatedly talked about how it was “NON-VIOLENT” and “ABSOLUTELY NO WEAPONS“. They’re really centering on respectability. My thoughts on both have evolved in the past 10 years, but okay. At the same time. And where was this protest? City Hall? No. A park in downtown. Umm… Okay. It’s not like city hall is the nexus of fascism in the South Bay and the courthouse/federal building doesn’t have room to hold a crowd of a few thousand. Fine. Let’s go to the park.

    The two hours I was there, I kept thinking the same thing. What are we doing here? We’re walking around on the sidewalks stopping for lights with chaperones (I’m sorry, “peace ambassadors”.) chanting “WHOSE STREETS? OUR STREETS!” Are they really when we’re being polite? People were carrying signs literally saying “Thank you Rachel Maddow” and “What would RBG do?” Well, we know what she did. Knowingly dying of cancer and knowing that Senate was lost, she stayed on even after meeting with Obama who begged her to resign so they could save the seat. A 6-3 Supreme Court is her legacy. Fuck her. But hey, I heard she could draft some meaningless legal opinions, and looked good in a doily.

    Meanwhile, everything keeps going along same as before. What actions are we doing? Calling our congresspeople? Okay. What else? Because that’s working out oh so well.

    We have octogenarians that refuse to stand up, because that might alienate some “independent” that voted for Trump to disappear some Hispanic guy and beat a trans kid, but hates paying $16 for an egg. Hell, the House Democrats picked a 75 year old dying of cancer instead of a healthy 35 year old that actually gets people excited to be the ranking member on government oversight. How did that work out? He’s resigning because he’s dying of cancer after four months? Mission accomplished I guess.

    People are calling their reps constantly begging them to oppose Trump instead of just keep confirming his picks, and they’re going to keep the government running so Trump and Musk and keep dismantling it.

    But finally! Someone stood up! Corey Booker makes an epic “filibuster”! TWENTY-FIVE HOURS! OF ACTUALLY SPEAKING!!! Oh my god! Someone actually threw a wrench in the works! Oh wait. He did it in the middle of night, when nothing was on the agenda? So nothing was going to be voted on? Once he’s exhausted, he sends mass text asking for money, and regular order continues.

    What the fuck?

    Why are these leaders and organizations so timid? Granted, I’m in small lefty bubble but I want, what I hear other people want is more. We look at other countries facing fascism and see their city plazas full. We see their general strikes. We look at their crackdowns, and we wonder, “Why not here? Everything feels so aimless and timid. Uninspiring and ineffective. If this is truly a crisis, then why aren’t we acting like it is?”

    I used to think that I was just had a higher desire for more direct action because direct action is fetishized. I play act, because I arrogantly assume my side will win. I am naïvely ignorant of the true reality and so I have the luxury to play act. But now, just over 100 days into this new era, and seeing how much perhaps irrecoverable damage to the government and society has occurred, it’s ludicrous to believe that these protests and phone banking is up to the crisis. “Move fast and break things” must be countered. Bullies prey on weakness. Be the change you want to see in the world. But no. Don’t do that. That’s illegal. That sounds like confrontations, property damage, in other more loaded terms, quote-unquote “violence”.

    Don’t go there. That’s illegitimate. That’s the low way. Their ways. We turn the other cheek! We’re like Ghandi or MLK.

    But also…

    But also…

    Fundamentally, autocrats only surrender when they feel fear. We must make them afraid, and no one is afraid of a monthly Saturday afternoon parade, let alone the same parade a year later when no one shows up, but more importantly the status quo is upheld.

    I thought I was alone in feeling a failure to meet the moment, but then I see people online post, “General strike when?”. Someone compares the recent South Korean impeachment protests with America’s, and find America’s lacking.

    So there are others also feel it as well. America’s lefty protest movement is timid. Sarah Jeong pointed out 1000 people sitting in the middle of the street not moving while being in proper grid, held a kind of veiled threat behind it. America’s protests are parades. The nonviolence register is different. Why do the 60s marches feel real, but today’s feel fake? Then across my feed Margaret Killjoy’s essay lands in my feed.

    Killjoy’s essay opens with a Fredrick Douglass epigraph specifically calling out people that demand the cause maintain propriety above all else. This epigraph is directly confronts quotes from contemporary lefty marches touting their nonviolence, play by whatever conditions the police set, and absolutely no guns. (No guns? After multiple instances of marchers being killed by fascists; incidents that included cops identifying with and helping the murderer? Please.) She then contrasts this poplar idea of nonviolence as practiced by groups like 50501 and their 1960s antecedents from the civil rights movement. The groups of 2025 promote safety. The groups of the 1960s promoted confrontation. They disrupted the status quo, and often paid the price for it in blood. If nonviolence’s supposed moral superiority comes from the explicit rejection to meet violence with violence, then only the 1960s protests were “actually nonviolent”, while today’s protests are “false nonviolence”.

    This essay hit a chord in me. My problem with American protest movements is that they’re ineffective, and their ineffective because they don’t disrupt the status quo. Killjoy really captured the crux of the problem.

    I see some self professed anarchist online say that anyone advocating against nonviolence is probably a cop. I point out that direct action doesn’t have to be violence or property damaging. Just a sit down protest to disrupt work could be enough.

    They called me a cop.

    I chalk it up to the professional activist archetype. They can’t ever win the struggle, because then their identity would be end.

    It’s this set of vibes about protests and activists never crystalized into a coherent structured in my head until while listening to a related Acid Horizon episode on technofascism that everything collapsed into a single theory.

    America’s lefty activist cadre aren’t in the business of politics. They’re in the business of advertising.

    Previously.

  • Felt Witchy, Might Delete Later

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    I don’t know why I made this, but I felt a compelled to make a box covered with magical symbols.

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  • Polish Notation

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    Jan ?ukasiewicz

    TIL prefix notation (aka Polish notation) was invented in 1924 by Jan Łukasiewic, who apparently just dropped it in an article not about the notation at all. Which is a pretty ballsy thing. (Actual quote: “I came upon the idea of a parenthesis-free notation in 1924. I used that notation for the first time in my article Łukasiewic(1)”) That also seems par for the course for mathematicians.

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  • Asteroid Blues (2032)

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    It’s 2032. Astronomers confirm that asteroid 2024 YR4 will impact the Earth unless a diversion plan launched immediately.

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  • Drunk Billionaire Drama

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    An HBO prestige drama where a family struggles for control over a vast fortune and/or corporation. The patriarch that’s currently in control of the company is so fearful that he will accidentally authorize something that will result in him losing control, that he maintains intoxication throughout his waking hours.

    He’s literally intoxicated 24/7.

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  • The Shocking and Forgotten Suicide of Don Knotts

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    On June 30, 1963, comedic actor Don Knotts shot himself in the head with a .38 caliber revolver during the live airing of The Ed Sullivan Show.

    Ironically, at the conclusion of the opening monologue, Sullivan remarked, “I’m really excited about tonight’s show. I think everyone is going to be talking about it around the water cooler in the morning.” At the time, everyone that heard the words simply thought it was just vapid self-promotion. Everyone that is, except for Knotts, listening to a feed of the show backstage in the green room.

    The show began normally. The first segment featured, a trained poodle act from Waukesha, Wisconsin that performed various flips, ball tricks, and riding tricycles while Stars and Stripes Forever played.

    Witnesses said they saw Knotts out of the dressing room, pacing around backstage chain smoking. When asked if something was wrong, Knotts just called it “anticipation”, saying he “just want[ed] to get on with it”.

    Knots was scheduled to reprise his Barney Fife character in a skit where Ed Sullivan gets stranded in Mayberry, followed by a brief interview.

    Coming back from commercial, the show opened with a whistling bars of the Andy Griffith show, and a facsimile of police station set from the show. Knotts in his Barney Fife costume sat with his feet up on a desk and his hat pulled down over his face. Stage left, a door opened and Ed Sullivan walked in. Sullivan delivered his first line, “Excuse me. My car has broken down, and I was wondering if you could help me.” Knotts simply stood up and walked over to Sullivan and muttered something that the microphones couldn’t catch.

    Sullivan looked a bit confused and repeated his line. Knotts looked disinterested, delivered some setup lines, allowing Sullivan to cue up the first big joke of the skit. Instead of delivering the punchline, Knotts said, “I’m not a clown.” Sullivan, visibly confused, repeated his line, and again, louder this time, Knotts said, ” I am not a clown.”

    Sullivan, now angry, demanded Knotts say the scripted line. Instead, Knotts drew the revolver he had as part of his costume. He unbuttoned his breast pocket and pulled out two bullets, and proceeded to load the revolver.

    Everyone in the theater was quiet. Sullivan eventually asked, “Are.. Are those real bullets, Don?”

    “Oh yeah. Bought them myself. They’re the real deal.”

    Sullivan put his arms out and tried to calm Knotts. Saying that no one was hurt, so everything would be fine, if he’d just put the gun down.

    Instead of calming the situation, Knotts became more agitated. “I am not a clown. Do you understand that? I AM NOT A CLOWN!”, Knotts shouted.

    The camera zoomed in on Knotts. He said he was tired of everyone thinking he was just a bumbling idiot. People on the street confusing his characters for him. Casting directors constantly casting him for the what is essentially the exact same role: The Clown. Tears welling up, he said he wanted to do drama. He wanted respect. “I did Shakespeare! Not Malvolio or Dogberry! I was King Lear! I was a good King Lear.”

    He collected himself, took a deep breath, and then simply said, “I am not a clown.” He quickly raised the gun to his temple. Off camera, a man shouted, “Don! No!” Knotts repeated, “I am not a clown,” and pulled the trigger.

    The crowd screamed, and camera spun and tilted. Quickly, the camera returned to Knotts’s body lying on the stage. Sullivan was standing next to him looking on in shock. Stagehands quickly gathered around Knotts’s body. After a few seconds, someone in a headset stepped in front of the camera while brandishing a clipboard in like a shield. As he moved towards the camera, he angrily shouted, “Turn the goddamn cameras off!”, before pushing the camera off from the image. The broadcast switched to a silent still title slide for the show. The smiling of caricature Ed Sullivan a gross mockery of the nightmare that has just unfolded live on national television.

    Across the Eastern a Central time zones, CBS affiliates struggled to fill the dead air. Some stations tried to find kinescopes of literally anything. Cleveland’s WOIO aired an episode of the Dick Van Dyke show. Boston’s WBZ ironically aired the Andy Griffith show. New York’s WCBS just ran the silent slide for the rest of the hour. By the time the show was scheduled for the Pacific and Mountain time, a previous episode of the Ed Sullivan show was prepared and aired.

    That night, CBS chief Hubbell Robinson ordered the kinescope of the episode destroyed. Without recordings, and general shifting of social tastes, Knotts and his suicide was forgotten.

    The episode was considered lost until 1996, when surviving kinescope film was found in an attic in Saugatuck, Michigan.

  • A Concept Album For My 11 Year Old

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    My 11 year old son is learning the guitar. He seems to like this teacher better than his previous one, because this one is focusing on whole songs, rather than musical notes.(When I was studying with my son over the pandemic, I liked learning notes, but it was frustrating to go forward, and honestly, the teacher was a bit of a square.)

    Anyway, this teacher has been teaching him classic rock, which is awesome. When he starts practicing a new song, and I name it, he’s proud. For example, for the school talent show, my son played Deep Purple’s “Smoke on the Water”, while everyone else played violins and flutes, and boring stuff like that. My son also learned, “Back in Black”, and now “Enter Sandman”.

    “Smoke on the Water” and “Enter Sandman”?

    If you’ve been paying attention… somewhere… you might know that I own, and am fascinated with, Pat Boone’s, “In a Metal Mood”.

    I should document this here some day, but the tl;dnr is that squeaky clean Pat Boone got in trouble with his predominately older evangelical Christian audience when he promoted his classic rock cover album, “In a Metal Mood”. It played out exactly like how you’d expect it you even half an interest in contemporary American politics — where “contemporary” is defined as the ever damning, past 70 years.)

    He already has two of the twelve down and everyone one of the ten remaining are right in the teacher’s wheelhouse of 70s – 80s hard rock. It could happen! My son could learn all twelve song of “In a Metal Mood”, and then I could record him, and make my own legitimate family memory, that just happens to a contain private joke just for me.

    I was going to ask if this was too bizarre, or somehow creepy, immoral, or something even legitimately esoteric talk, but now that I write it down, I’m convinced that I should definitely do this, but not tell the teacher my plan, because I’d come off super weird as soon he’d ask the obvious, “But why this album?”

    The world is not nearly cool enough for the teacher to note the tracks, and then make an idle — or better yet, probing — noting the similarities to the album. To which I could only stand beaming ear to ear, while saying, “Wow! What a coincidence!”

  • At Long Last…

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    Back in the mid 90s, my friend Brad pulled out a strange small brass contraption. With a few slides and pulls, it transformed into an awkward pipe.

    It was exquisite. A door covered the bowl. It had a pick to stir and clean it that was kept in tube on the side. It even had a place to hold unburned weed. It was the perfect hash pipe.

    I thought about that pipe for 30 years. I couldn’t tell you anything else about it until a few weeks ago, and now I own one.

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