I don’t want to connect my coffee machine to the wifi network. I don’t want to share the file with OneDrive. I don’t want to download an app to check my car’s fluid levels. I don’t want to scan a QR code to view the restaurant menu. I don’t want to let Google know my location before showing me the search results. I don’t want to include a Teams link on the calendar invite. I don’t want to pay 50 different monthly subscription fees for all my software. I don’t want to upgrade to TurboTax platinum plus audit protection. I don’t want to install the Webex plugin to join the meeting. I don’t want to share my car’s braking data with the actuaries at State Farm. I don’t want to text with your AI chatbot. I don’t want to download the Instagram app to look at your picture. I don’t want to type in my email address to view the content on your company’s website. I don’t want text messages with promo codes. I don’t want to leave your company a five-star Google review in exchange for the chance to win a $20 Starbucks gift card. I don’t want to join your exclusive community in the metaverse. I don’t want AI to help me write my comments on LinkedIn. I don’t even want to be on LinkedIn in the first place.
I just want to pay for a product one time (and only one time), know that it’s going to work flawlessly, press 0 to speak to an operator if I need help, and otherwise be left alone and treated with some small measure of human dignity, if that’s not too much to ask anymore.
Seen here which is not a real "weblog", but takes you to the most recent content, not February 22 entry shown here.
February 22. Two similar quotes on metaphysics. From the novel Lanark by Alasdair Gray:
God, you see, is a word. It is the word for everything not speaking when someone says 'I think.' And by
Propper's Law of Inverse Exclusion (which enables a flea in a matchbox to declare itself jailor of the universe)
every single 'I think' has intimate knowledge of the surface of what it is not. But as every thinker reflects a
different surface of what he isn't, and as God is our word for the whole, it follows that all agreement about
God is based on misunderstanding.
And from Lore of Proserpine by Maurice Hewlett:
Who knows what his neighbor sees? Who knows what his dog? Every species of us walks secret from the
others; every species of us the centre of his universe, its staple of measure, and its final cause. And if at
times one is granted a peep into new heavens and a new earth, and can get no more, perhaps the best thing
we win from that is the conviction that we must doubt nothing and wonder at everything.
The latter is a strange 1913 book by a novelist who claimed to see fairies. It's a great companion to Dora Van Gelder's The Real World of Fairies, and I've just added it to my books page, along with Michael Talbot's The Holographic Universe, which I'm now reading for the third time
Written by Albert Einstein at the invitation of a German magazine, 1921:
What Artistic and Scientific Experience Have in Common
Where the world ceases to be the scene of our personal hopes and wishes, where we face it as free beings admiring, asking, and observing, there we enter the realm of Art and Science. If what is seen and experienced is portrayed in the language of logic, we are engaged in science. If it is communicated through forms whose connections are not accessible to the conscious mind but are recognized intuitively as meaningful, then we are engaged in art. Common to both is the loving devotion to that which transcends personal concerns and volition.
(From Helen Dukas and Banesh Hoffmann, eds., Albert Einstein, the Human Side: New Glimpses From His Archives, 1979.)
One sticks a finger into the ground to smell what country one is in. I stick my finger into the world — it has no smell. Where am I? What does it mean to say: the world? What is the meaning of that word? Who tricked me into this whole thing and leaves me standing here? Who am I? How did I get into the world? Why was I not asked about it, why was I not informed of the rules and regulations but just thrust into the ranks as if I had been bought from a peddling shanghaier of human beings? How did I get involved in this big enterprise called actuality? Why should I be involved? Isn’t it a matter of choice? And if I am compelled to be involved, where is the manager — I have something to say about this. Is there no manager? To whom shall I make my complaint?
— Kierkegaard, Repetition, 1843
Peace brings riches; riches bring pride; pride brings anger; anger brings war; war brings poverty; poverty brings humanity; humanity brings peace.
Peace, as I have said, brings riches and so the world’s affairs go round
– Luigi da Porto, Sixteenth Century, author of Guillietta e Romeo