Brovic - Blogging Since 1903
4.13.11
KHUK KHAK, Thailand
Facebook Question Party.
Think about that for a minute. It's a party. You're invited. It's a party where you're going to be asked a lot of questions. What kind of party is that? That's not a party. That's called interrogation.
What, something short of Gitmo? That's a party, too, they say.
Maybe it's just me, and my naturally occurring suspicious and paranoid ways. So I checked into it; I'll play your game, following the link, the pathway through the electronic labyrinth that eventually led me to a page requesting 'allow' or 'don't allow' access to personal information, ID, gender, web address, list of friends, contacts, and all other information posted to all others.
Whhhhhhaaaat?
Give 'em that right, and you can open the magic box.
I thought about it for a minute, 'Nah, I don't want to play the game that bad...got things around here I could do...' and then hit the 'don't allow' button, thinking I can contact people via another avenue to see what they want, or what they're up to. I really don't need a Facebook personal info data-dump going to someone's holding pen, a datadumpster.
'What do they want to do with all that?'
Sell it, use it against you...tell you it's for your convenience, your tailored needs, your benefit.
So, I hit the 'don't allow' button, and the same page came up four times in a row, almost insisting I change my mind and hit the 'allow' button. Seeing no change in the program's behavioral response, and provided no other choice, I exited the site, my suspicions further substantiated, my paranoia compounded and reinforced by the programs' catty intransigence.
It's a game. It's a game. A fun game. Lighten up, wouldja? Millions are playing it. Play along.
I can see where a person might be coming from, saying something like that. 'Don't be so daggone paranoid,' but seeing how there's so little out there in the consumer/marketing world that would be trustworthy or reliable to convince me otherwise...
hunter/gatherer, hunter/killer, gatherer/killer. we haven't moved too far in 7 million years. ever since Lucy learned how to do 'The Locomotion.'
Lucy, then Little Eva, Grand Funk Railroad, and Kylie Minogue, all hits a decade apart after that long stretch following Lucy.
'You can't walk like that
talk like that
go on the attack like that
Share something with you; a partial something, and then maybe tell the whole story later, but a portion of it involved a dream resulting from an inquiry about a certain artifact, a stone, an atlatl point, to be precise, of speckled Jasper. In the view presented, two cave people were sitting around a fire after an apparent dinner, joking around in an extremely rudimentary language and working on their weapons.
There was more to it, for me to extrapolate any personal meaning relevant to the atlatl point, estimated at six to ten thousand years old, but the connection here being, that ever since Lucy and maybe before, we've been at war.
Some kind of war with something...the environment, that wooly mammoth, that big-ass boar. Then soon the arrival of the Spaniards, air raids over London, AIDS and resistant bacteria. Only thing that's changed over time is the enemy and the weapons systems.
Sure, you could say the cave people from the, what was it, upper paleolithic, only used their spears, clubs, and atlatls for hunting...like you could say the same thing about a semi-automatic weapon or a Predator Drone.
Further inquiry in the archeological academic and intelligence worlds demonstrates that even your best guess, or what you think could be real or accurate, is only a theoretical pinpoint in what could in fact be a vast universe of difference and erroneous to what the truth is. Erroneous intelligence. Erroneous targeting.
Are you sure?
Give me a Ballpark Guess. Ask any cave man, shaman, priest or general.
Good news is, everything is becoming more refined. Everything. Your phone camera, more pixels till they flip it over; your personalized nano-doctor; our view of distant worlds; the laser-guided, real-time, smart bomb; your dining habits; advertising.
Sittin' in the drone zone
waitin' for a ring tone
should have kept your ass at home
and now they gonna make a crater
on the news we'll see it later
you and your meeting high command
composed of
disposed of
terminada
eliminada
from a console in Nevada
It's a game! A fun game. Millions are playing. Come play along.
- end
