Don't panic

The internet is built for cranks, those worried about the end of the world. It was made not for pointing to indications of our transforming world in actuality, but to a world which is theoretically capable of being transformed...and the image arises, a doomed wasteland once as fertile as the Sahara, one which we must take drastic measures to improve.

Memes I think they're called, meant to function as secret handshakes, fun exercises in connectivity...but they're not meant to be taken seriously, no more than a peacock needs its feathers for survival. And it's getting harder and harder to get excited about them, because for all their variety they play on the same worn-out synapses.

So, here's to practicality:

Kiva
Radio Open Source
Lingro
Instructables
Steal This Wiki

Brains!

Hypothesis: Social networking sites have the ability to identify the types of arguments individual subgroups deem valid.

Using this information, a wide variety of cultural variables, from age to favorite book, can be associated with certain types of arguments, such that an individual of a certain age who enjoys a certain book will agree with one type argument more readily than another.



Control over this information will turn political, and we'll be left addicted to images tailor made for our enjoyment.

Google is the new Viking

The internet as future forecaster: life, politics, fashion...it's a gossip house, a tavern.

Linking to the picture below is my contribution to the decor:



With all the boogeymen lurking beyond the firelight, ye olde timey photos are needed to lend a sense of continuity to the proceedings.

Detecting the darker side of technological gods

Apparently it's possible to build machines that are powered only in the absence of light. I now await mechanical nightmares, built to prey on the dreaming. May they appear while we still have dreams, while we still resist the idea that our minds are no longer safe from the whispers of machines.

Technology loves me like a vice

We now live in a world of bioluminescent cats. Please hold your complaints to a whisper, lest the flying saucers gun you down.

I think our imagination is trying to revolt. Our brains will soon shed their skin and speak through the technology they've created: "We no longer need you".

This is what they'll look like:



I suppose this is the future we have chosen to devolve to, children, constantly warned about the dangers of their surroundings. The brains must feel unwanted amid all this instruction.

I still want you, brain.
I will bring you candies and chocolates.
I can only hope you return the favor.