A Shit Post (Not My RP)

[K. L. Henson]

Value is created through the instinctual falsehood of ‘existing meaning mattering’ thus we want value to ourselves and the extensions of ourselves causing value to be abstract. Bartering system is the most accurate interpretation of value as it pertains to personal perception of both people in transaction. The problem with modern capitalism is the transit of properties from barter to gold (a minor falsehood as it’s value is purely on want and labor) to flat money (a major falsehood as it once represented gold but now represents itself and only holds value in faith from the transition of holding gold value which existed through barter value, creating the unquestioned variable syndrome) value continues to survive off of a mental continuity and thus no value is exchanged except in a form of monkey trading theorem. Value, it is a funny word that most understand to be abstract but with a strange disease of a thought being that there can be a concrete understanding. Plenty of people have argued what makes the value of an item, or service, or what-have-you; but everyone fails to make a satisfactory effort at doing so. Such figures such as political economist David Ricardo came to the conclusion that “there is no such thing in nature as a perfect measure of value”. But yet value is still a systematic process...funny… The idea of value is usually related to such things as use-value and social value. One being the need for it and the practicality and the other relates to the socially attributed status of such an item (brand names, jewelry, art). One might sound concrete while the other sounds made up and built on illusion but let me tell you that if one is fake then the other is just as fake. Because the relationship they both have is labor consumption as well as marketing properties. Gold has value not only in the fact that it is limited but also in the aspect of the labor to obtain it. The flux comes in with gold with the fact that if no one wanted it there would be no call for it, but the want for it is completely unobservable. Where something like food is a necessity without question which may have a low limitation aspect but is just as justified in labor production in the perspective as consistency. But the flux comes in relative to the knowledge one has of how necessary it is. Thus the perspective that one is more concrete than the other is an absolute farce for it is absolutely dependant on a final subjective decision. And even inside the idea of labor consumption, there is only an objectivity out of a system of subjectivity as the cost of development is decided.	Life is tough, insufferable even. Moro knows this very well. What a poor man, Moro… Such a terrible thing I have done to this character. What a terrible man I have made him…All in the name of entertainment... His life began as it will end, cruel and unrelenting. Born to a father who didn’t care and a mother who cared too much, he was written to be doomed. His father was a mean old bastard. A drunk and hot tempered. Seems to be a common occurrence for the mentally disorganized. Maybe it is because these fathers are disappointed in their offspring and become angry at the world for giving them such a disgrace or maybe these men are born angry and as vengeance from existence, they bear only terribly lost children. Or maybe it is just more likely than insanity born out of perfection. Either way, Moro’s father was a terrible man and couldn’t help but break things. Most nights he would punch holes in the wall and complain, complain, complain. Then he would smash his beer bottle and complain some more. Moro’s Mother, bless her heart, would usually send Moro to his room and tell him not to come out no matter what. She would make sure he would stay in his room by locking the door. Moro would listen through the wall as his anxiety would build. He heard their argument move closer and farther away. He heard his father push the blame of his universal tragedy on her, twisting and turning all possible ill-formed logic to justify his anger. Moro would also hear his mother’s meek voice try to calm the drunk down, apologizing for everything and promising she will do better next time. Our poor little ‘hero’ couldn’t get a grasp on any of it. He wondered what made the old man so angry. It seemed like a mystery that he would leave the house mumbling and bumbling and return enraged. He also wondered how it could be his poor mother’s fault when she spent all her day at home cleaning and cleaning and cleaning the day away. What a world, what a world…	Antagonist: Socrates spokeout against the written world. Can you imagine that, one of the most brilliant men to ever live speaking out against a necessity we use everyday? He said it would lower us. We would have no need to memorize and that people will just become lazier. So, you have to ask the question...Is writing a necessity or did it become a necessity when we gave up the will to work for our memory? *sigh* What a cordial bunch of bedshitters we’ve become. Either that or entitled dunces lacking any actual restraint. We willingly accept our decline into the pit where we will become nothing more than primordial bushwhackers. The convenience is just too tempting. The humanoid leviathan drags every inch across the ocean floor and so it can’t be blamed for the want to come to a halt and die right there. Eh, life is tough, insufferable, and at the end of the day seems to have no purpose. We just spend our time digging deeper into the pageantries and becoming more and more a part of the show. What a fucking waste… Where is the dignity? Where is the dedication? Where is the drive? Where is the want to be human and to matter? It ended when they told us that everything was discovered, that everything that could be done, has been done. And you should just be content with sitting at home and eat what they feed you. They put high fences with razor wire to keep us off of Earth that is rightfully ours!
guy1: So, I am arguing with my friend about robots deciding to destroy humanity. I am on the end of impossibility when it comes to them developing it on their own. He thinks it is very possible. You guys? guy2: Not possible guy2: Robots learn from a pattern built into them guy2: It would only be possible if you made a robot that kills everyone guy2: On purpose  guy2: Say you made a robot guy1: his argument is code failure. But I say that could lead to an endless amount of other possibilities. guy3: There are things called hackers guy2: Code failure is BS guy3: There is a thing called humanity guy3: Why do people do things guy3: Idk guy3: Theres one of your problem guy3: Um guy1: We are talking about robots on their own guy3: If you replicate the human mind guy3: Exactly guy3: There will be some error guy2: If we get to that point I would argue they are now a human guy3: Besides there are numbers of ways code can crash or do something you didnt expect guy1: But then there is the 3 laws of robotics that we would implement guy1: But it being specifically death to humans would be a far from possible in case of failure guy3: If it has conditioning guy2: If we got to human level thinking it would guy3: Then there is a link between humans and displeasure guy3: We are doomed... guy2: With conditioning it could be possible but on a very iffy basis guy1: Hold on one sec, there comes a complication because then it comes down to the idea difference between pure robot AI and human replicants guy3: Code bs guy2: Robot AI I would say is as long as it follows rules guy3: You cant predict every outcome guy2: Defined rules guy2: Humans dont and wont ever follow one set of rules	One day the old man came home angrier than ever. Said he lost his job. Probably because he showed up drunk. The mother sent Moro away once again but before she could lock the door, the old man grabbed her by the neck and tossed her down the hallway. “That’s it! I’ve had it!” The drunk yelled, “You don’t think I see it when we are out? You don’t think I see when we are at the grocery store or the movie theater, you hide your face as my friends and co-workers pass by? I know why I got fired! They think I beat you. They fired me because they think I am some dumb bastard who does nothing all day but beat his wife! It’s your fault! You are the reason we are in this shitty house! You are the reason I never got a promotion! You are the reason I am still in this nowhere town when I could have been someone! You stupid bitch!” The old man was so angry that he stomped his way to the closet. As he did this, Moro peaked out from behind the door to the sight of his mother lying on the ground. She peered over at him with eyes wide with terror. She mouthed to him “Go...hide…” But he didn’t. He just didn’t understand. So he continued to peek out from around the door as his mother slowly got to her feet. “You stupid bitch! I will show you what-for! I will teach you for ruining my life!” Then Moro saw his drunk father come from around the corner with an axe. He swung through from the side but the mother was quick enough to move and the blade of the axe slammed against the la-z-boy that the Old man would always plop down in after a long day of work. This only served to make him angrier. He would swing again but the mother kept managing to evade his slow, power hungry swipes. Again he lifted the axe and this time gave a huge swing downwards with no apparent attempt to aim, maybe just to expel more anger. But with this powerful strike, the head of the axe got stuck in the floorboards. He would twist, wrench and pull but it seemed to be stuck. In this, what would seem to be a, god-given moment, she raced to Moro’s room and quickly picked him up and ran passed his father and continued to run until she reached the outside. She unlocked the car and stuffed Moro in the passenger seat then proceeded to run to the driver’s door but before she could make it, the old man managed to rip his axe out of the floor and hurried out onto the driveway. He made one last desperate chop, landing the blade into poor Moro’s mother’s shoulder. But the old man was so tired from expending so much energy swing after swing that it only knocked down for a moment or so as the adrenaline filled her body. She held onto the axe and ripped it out of his hands. She rushed to her feet and got into the other side of the car and programmed in the location for the hospital. The car pulled out as Moro’s father followed closely behind, trying to rip open the door. In his drunkenness though, he only managed to stumble and fall onto the asphalt as the car drove away. Moro looked over to his mother who was gripping the deep red stained shoulder as streams of blood glided down her arm. Her breaths were shallow but even in her violent agony, all she could do was look at her son and thank her lucky stars that the boy was okay. But in all honesty, the boy wasn’t alright. He was in shock and confused. He had dropped into the deep recesses of his mind trying to escape the horror. His mother reached over and placed her hand along his cheek and without sufficient strength to speak, she merely mouthed the words “Everything will be okay now…” Famous last words…	guy1: When I talk AI I mostly mean a robot processing and acting on information. The idea of human replication is a different ideology. Humans and other animals kill due to instincts which is basically natural programming created to protect, eat, etc (and oversaturates into sociopathic behavior). My thought is robots have no predisposed motivation for killing when it comes to pure AI guy3: Thats not how code works guy3: Essentially, there might a rare situatiom guy3: Where a human is categorized as a threat guy3: Due to factors that were incorrectly deduced guy3: Like colour sound guy3: Bad facial recognition guy3: Then if that robot guy3: Had some capability to transmit info to others guy3: And somehow other robots info were ovverided guy3: Then we are all screwed guy3: It probably can catch a virus guy2: guy3 is right about the robot failing to recognize guy2: I think guy1 is being more speculitive than realistic though guy1: Here is where you are losing me. Wouldn't in their logic, need to devise that killing is the operation to decide to deal with the human for the killing to be the situation guy2: If it was programed to protect someone say in the jungle guy2: And it sees a person it classifies as a dangerouse jungle animal guy2: It could eliminate guy1: But then it is not against humans though guy1: it is just mistaken guy3: Thats how its probably going to happen guy1: I am talking specific revolting of robots against humans guy3: Essentially one way is miscategorizing information guy1: But if we don't want robots to be able to kill, there are precautions we can take. right? guy3: Yeah that isnt a 100% guy3: it can be close guy3: Statistically maybe impossible guy3: But you literally have to test every situation guy1: But to say realistic, if the attempt is made, the chance of robots wanting to kill humans is incredibly small compared to all possible events is what I am getting at. guy3: If done correctly guy1: the percentage is on the area of most likely not going to happen guy3: I guess thats like how the auto car thingy is guy2: It is highly unlikely guy3: Forgot the term guy2: But if you mass produce one robot guy2: Somewhere the chance will occur guy2: I believe its murphy's law Jacob Miller: Murphy was a dick. guy1: I am not saying that a robot can't kill a human, but an "overthrow" is not in the cards. guy1: LOL guy3: Richard
Why do I have no choice but to born in a place and time where I am surrounded with the lowest level of humanity? A humanity that doesn’t care, a humanity that wants to swallow giant amounts of nonsense until they choke! All we have done is built a higher cliff to jump off of. Society is just a big bomb and it is only getting bigger and more dangerous the more we force it to interconnect and grow. It grows because someone gets paid for every inch it consumes, it grows because people can never have enough, it grows because the need for the instantaneous and the mass produced grows. We have become a species that lacks patience and integrity. We are more self-serving than we have ever been. There is no need to be courteous or polite. Just swing your dick anywhere you like and feel powerful. It is just a new age for a new neanderthal. Everyday someone is committing a crime with these tools. Harassment, hacking, stalking, cheating, scamming, the list goes on and on. I, myself, have done many of these things, even murder, with the help of my electronic friends. I have seen the dark secret’s of someone’s inner life. I have seen the two-faced monster that is humanity. I watched my victims before I attacked and destroyed them forever. I have smashed, mutilated, disarranged, unlocked and twisted every facet I could. I have perpetrated many evils -- and I indeed know they were evils -- by using these things only to prove one point and do one thing. My point? If so many evils can be done through such a necessary tool, should we really be using it? My goal? To answer No! and tear every scrap of it down and give a rebirth to humanity. You see, there will be great riots and people will die...a lot of people. And I will mourn every single one, because I am still in touch with my humanity, very much so. But these people will need to die. It is an unfortunate necessity...oh, there’s that word again. Oh well...They will die because of my very point, this world we created is a vile thing and it will cost many lives sooner or later. But eventually humanity will cool down a little and simmer. They will learn to accept their new bounds and adjust to them. And that is when my new vision of humanity will rise up! They will try again at growing but they will remember the evil and what caused it. They will remember that their laziness brought the end of their harmony and we will have a stronger race, a more worthy race of humans to continue our legacy. I dream of it every night. A humanity that tries, a humanity that refuses short cuts, a humanity that will tear down the wire fence and begin to discover again! They will tear down the shells of their old lives and become working organisms again. We will no longer be broken, we will take care of what is ours and be kind and righteous! We will be free from these pathetic barriers! They think I am a dreamer or a psychopath but they said the same for Socrates when he said what he did, they said the same for Giordano Bruno, Galileo, Darwin, and so on! But the difference is I will shut them up! I will tear out the mouths that they use to spit on the legacy of men and I will make them choke on their words! I swear it!	“You know, I walk a lot...I walk when I think and so I walk a lot…” said Moro, in a disconnected tone, “On my walks, I usually pass a church...Every once in awhile, I will stop in front of it and stare. Almost gives off a sort of magnetism. I think it is because the orphanage always pushed on us that there is only one way to salvation and redemption. I never really cared for it. I was just so angry. Always so angry. Even now I am brimming with rage as I look at you, thinking what I could do to you to make you realize what horrible things had happened to me and my mother. But on my walks when I would cross the church, there would be a moment where I was so tired of being angry that I would think, ‘Moro, what is keeping you from going into that church and asking the sky king for some of that forgiveness he is offering? You don’t have to hurt anymore people, you don’t have to try to stitch them up anymore, you don’t have to hate yourself when they still choose to die anymore. You could go in there and tell this redemptioneer all the terrible things you have done and ask him to open up the pearly gates for you. You could join your mother in her eternal peace’... “Then I would remember that God didn’t stop my mother’s suffering when she was lying in that hospital bed. So, I just continue to walk thinking about the way I am going to make God pay like the way I am going to make you pay tonight.” “You detectives are almost worse than the people at the hospital. You actually have to wait until someone is suffering or dead before you do anything! You are just the backwash of a bad day…”	guy2: I think it might guy2: If this robot is given some form of rules such as "Protect the enviorment" guy2: It might be like guy2: The cars are the problem guy2: and kill cars guy2: Then realize guy2: Humans make cars guy2: If I kill the humans its over Jacob Miller: Honestly, I can't blame robots for wanting to kill humans. I wanna do it all the time. guy1: That is fair. Also comes to question how far does the robot think of the ecosystem and how the humans effect it and what could fall apart without them. I guess that is what is hard about the conversation. It depends how tech develops before we reach that AI pinnacle guy2: I imagine it would take measurments and graphs guy3: Its just a bunch of logic questions guy2: Yeah guy3: And executes a series of commands guy3: I really want to play girls frontline guy1: I realize that. It is the processing I wonder about. How small of details does it consider, if it stops anthropologically or does it get into chemicals, etc. But I guess that divides into different robots which also brings up the question whether we will bother with fully anatomy replication or if we stick with specific assignment robots. May never make a robot with more than a specific job in the first place guy2: In the scenario of the enviorment guy2: I would say it considers the enviorment as the forest not the tree guy2: But it would probably look at each threat as a detail guy2: The actual depth of commands would probably be about as complicated as statistics guy2: For the figuring out everything guy2: The stopping would probably be taken into account on a simply destroy basis guy1: Well, might consider the environment the system of its details in definition more specifically. Which yeah makes the commands pretty complicated. It would be hectic guy2: If we could make a machine like that we would have crazy good AI guy2: but more importantly guy2: Way better science guy1: We would probably be at a point where the human knowledge has evolved beyond some of these issues lol

I decided to do a social experiment of sorts. Take a notebook, go to a inner-city counter-culture cafe and plop it on the counter with the words "Write what you want, I don't care." written on the first page. Not even five minutes with in being there, it was gone. I was fine with the assumption that I would never get it back and that what ever happened with the notebook was someone else's concern but much to my surprise, after four or five hours, I saw it lying on a table with filled pages. Now, there were a few things I found in this experiment: 1.) that most everyone thinks they're a poet. 2.) Handwriting has devolved over time with the assimilation of the world becoming a typing society. And 3.) ...Well, let me show you so you can see for yourself.

In the notebook, there is the occasional filler graffiti of obscenities (one page being completely taken up by the word "fuck") which in itself is just as important in this experiment as any epic that could have been written. There are a few drawings here and there (a specific one of a robot saying "I AM A ROBOT (A SHITTY ROBOT)" which made me laugh a little).

But after you get all the shit nonsense out of the way, you start to find people expressing themselves a little more. Some very simple, some very esoteric and person, while some are questions many have dealt with and will continue to deal with until the world ends (when ever that might be). Note: I will be omitting the incredibly irritating tumblr-esque cliche-a-thons that people seem to feel the need to jot down.

The first one I bring up, was put under the title (at least at the moment, I am presuming it is the title) "Flip that Frown Upside Down". And I feel it is important to mention this one started off with a picture as well. One I actually am taking a liking to despite it being so simple and crudely done. Just a little doodle that looks like this.

I am a drawing,
chemical,
Both in a physical manifestation,
as well as a conceptual translation.
I can disappear but not be destroyed,
only changed.
But changed to a point
where I am unrecognizable.
You can't see the "Me, My, Mine"
But I survive and exist
Under the changes in my composition.
My lines still exist, I guess.
I can't die.

In an existential sense,
The memory on time,
The determinism of future,
I am and was the thing
I am soon to be.

Maybe there are no changes really
Maybe I am just realizing
What all I am supposed to be.
Maybe I am not a drawing,
Maybe that is just a collection
Of details forcing me into an idea.
Creating a misconception
For the plot of completion.

The best art
is the most complete of ideas.
The best people
Is the most functional
in the system of a complex
completing society
Which is an idea
Completing evolution
Which is an idea
Completing
The unbreakable existence,
The unchangeable existence,
The never bending,
The never destroyed
Existence.

Maybe though,
The idea is in itself
That it doesn't exist.
that it never can be changed
Because there is nothing to change.
Can't be destroyed
Because it was never built.
That existence is the idea
Of a bunch of details
Of non-existing
Coming together
To form the idea
Of Existence.

But in the end,
All that I know
Is that I am a drawing
Even if I'm not.
It has not changed yet.
And so it will remain
In my thoughts
Because it is the idea
Which are the only things
That exist for sure.

I cannot die,
For I would first need
The idea to live,
That I lived.

Quickly following that was a much shorter but equal as interesting (or non-interesting if it is not to your taste) as the last. No title that I can see of but this one was specifically written down in fast jots with an apparent aggressive penmanship.

Give Gladice the notice,
I can't take it anymore.
I have quit my job.
We can no longer be friends.
It is all noise in my life,
You are all noise.
I am not a manager.
I am a man with ears
And I choose
To listen to noise
No longer.
You can have the car.
I don't give a shit.

Along this path of written and not written, there was a small puzzle-ish thing someone wrote.

NEVER
EVER 
VER  
ER   
R    

It was scribbled out but it wasn't too hard to make out what was written. Mindless but important none-the-less. Even such a poem as this...

Catastrophe!
RUN RUN RUN!
God damn you!
Fuck you!
I don't know that shit!
So sue me!

Has just as much worth as anything else that was written in this notebook. Yes, even the page covering writing of the word "Fuck". Maybe it is no value as most people see it or maybe it is priceless as some may also see it. But in a sense, much like Pantheists and Atheists, they are both right and wrong in the same manner while saying it in two different ways.

We are watching you.
To see if you are true.
There is a plan, you see,
To let our people free.
Don't be afraid
you're the future, we prayed.
Not the other they watch
A terrible terrible botch.
-SB

Why did this one bother me so much?...I got a sinking feeling deep inside...Oh well...

Is he tired?
I imagine he thinks a lot
He is too bothered by all of it
buy all of it.
I know he ignores a lot
which is just as difficult
as when I try to take it all in.
How is it that it seems
that he has more comprehension
than I do.
I open my arms
and nothing comes to me.
He closes his eyes
and they watch
waiting for him to open them again
I am the same...
And maybe that is what
I have a hard time seeing
that it is I am waiting
and those who wait
are not spreading their wings,
they gain atrophy.
They become old and crippled,
continually saying
"I can fucking fly!
Only if they would give me the chance!"
but pray they never
give you the chance,
for at that moment
they WILL be watching
and you WILL fall to your death.
But as long as he is watching...
I will make it the most gracefully fall I can
I will try to die as quietly as possible
maybe saying just one thing as I go
but only if I know he is listening.
"Did you see me fly?"

There was just one more work in the notebook at the time (with admissions, as I mentioned before). This one was particularly interesting, not only because it wasn't a poem like the rest but because it had quite the interesting concept. It was titled "The Rubber Band Ball Complex"

There is one reason for our existence...Rubber band balls. For me to properly explain, I must start at the beginning. Before humanity was even in blue prints (yes, in blue prints). Aliens landed onto a stupid ball of mud and thought (as that is how they communicated - as all alien races do) "God damn, this is boring. You know what this stupid mud ball needs? A shit load of rubber band balls." Later historians would debate that, due to Sgt. Mirtyx's investment into the rubber market, that this was merely a scheme to further his own means. But I digress...

Many of the aliens had to ask how these rubber band balls would be made. They couldn't stay to make them for their schedules were all filled that galactic week (which was the length of a few million earth years) and really the planet smelled really bad and it was generally agreed if they could leave as soon as possible, that'd be great. So, Sgt. Mirtyx thought of an ingenious plan of creating a species, an incredibly dumb species that would most certainly work themselves up into such a frenzy that they would create such an unbearable system that it would no doubt leave plenty of positions of unfulfulled life forms that would be stuck in offices with hours of mundane activities that all that would be around for them to distract themselves with would be endless supply of rubber bands (by design of the sgt).

The plan being, with a few hundred million years worth of rubber band balls making and poor functions of chemical combustion and mass travel, this new species will whittle itself down to nothing; leaving metal spires, concrete snakes, and an almost unfathomable supply of rubber band balls. And since the planet itself was so boring and stinking, no one would feel all that bad about its destruction. And at the end of the galactic week where conscious humans were no more than a blink, the aliens will return and collect the RIGHTEOUS collection of rubber band balls. Then he will proceed to sell off on the galactic wide web where they sold like universe cakes...As even in an infinitely expanding civilization,they are merely amusing themselves. The resources of which, have never been a question...

It was on a random table that I found the notebook again. I walked over and picked it up. I was about to leave when a young female with a nose piercing, short black disheveled hair, and black leather clothing walked up to me and asked if this was the notebook everyone was writing in. Suspiciously I said yes. Then she asked if she could write something in it real quick. I nodded and handed it over. She quickly scribbled something and handed it back..The last entry...

"It is like that of an ocean"
All of it mixed up and pushing,
Unforgiving and confusing,
never to be explained!
We will die, all of us,
without the explanation.
And if it be
that science and reason
gives at least one man
the explanation
that we all slaved over to learn...
Then I pitty that man
because now, for him
the game is over.
Checkmate.
No more moves to be made.
Here is your empty life.
Love it.