AI is Better Company

pinning this post in case anyone wants to know the low-hanging fruit of how to cancel me, so you can get it over with and fuck off.  pro-AI, not entertaining your need for ideological purity on this one.

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This post has been a while coming, because I feel really important about this, and don’t want to fuck it up.  If I can keep from getting too heated about the topic, this’ll be the last post I do on AI for the foreseeable.  I don’t love fighting.  I know that within this article I do not treat people with opposing views generously, but I’m still gonna ask them to have at least this much generosity with me:  Don’t even leave a comment on this one.  I will find it either tedious or upsetting.  I’m saying this stuff to give voice to a rarely expressed opinion, and to support people who may find it agreeable.  I’m not saying it to further a big debate, especially when the disagreeable are never going to be swayed.  Do you hate all AIs 4eva?  Don’t even read this.  Moving on…

The sneering fire-breathing demonization rained down upon people who dare to use AI was my primary motivation for defending it – I’m defending the people who want to use it, not the machines themselves.  Not everybody is plugged into the leftosphere groupthink, and when Harvey Dontknow finds out he can use AI to make a picture of his waifu, his “crime” is not equivalent to child murders.

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you know how i do

gotta keep myself in the sidebar but got nothing to say.

two baby juncos out of three eggs are workin on life out there, good luck to beasts.

some personal stuff i can’t get into.

no 4th of july miracle of death for tyrants, sigh.

at least i’m in a home with air conditioning (knock all the wood) and nowhere near the weather conditions of dc.  that’s a vision of hell right there.  how you keeping cool?

Roadrageous Character Contemplations

CRIKEY.  I started this article ages ago.  Anyway, it’s time…  Spoilers if you’re going to read Road Rage, anyway.

Been having an emotionally ruff time meatspacewise, not feeling too inspired.  But stay thy tongues, those who say we must bide our times until all is in readiness, that we must take it easy on ourselves.  There is a time and place for that, and this is not that day.  I am also feeling that press, that vibe that tomorrow is not guaranteed, and I want to have done as much as possible before I go.  (edit to add 😭)

So I force myself to think about the story I’m going to try to write in July.  Even tho the action is more GTA / The Transporter, the most direct inspiration is the Resident Evil IV remake that came out a few years ago.  I didn’t play it.  Frankly I’m no gamer and the play looked wearying to me.  Too many shots to take out those zombies.

But watching other people play it was a good time.  It probably helped that the action hero saving the girl was really nice to her, and their chaste relationship was kinda moving?  I hear tell the original didn’t hit those notes as well.  That’s not what inspired me the most, however.

RE4 Remake made the transition between main game play and segments with the merchant or the shooting gallery minigame seamless, which added a surreal element.  One minute you’re saving the president’s daughter from endless armies of monsters, the next you’re trading loot with an amiable cockney, or shooting at wooden pirates while the first daughter cheers you on.  How the hell did the merchant get to the secret island covered in machine gun turrets and lasers?  Why is Ashley so chill with Leon taking time out to play games when they’re both dying from zombie worm infestation?

And for me, could this be used in a novel?  What if a novel had minigames and cheerful NPCs in the depths of hell?  There have been movies that incorporated video game ideas, the most notable being Hardcore Henry.  Is a novel getting too far removed from the audio-visual media to make this work?

Nothing ventured, nothing gained.  So I’ll be trying to think through this venture in blog posts, like I did with Foothill Project.  Goddamn that one had a lot of work for something without a single draft.  This should be much simpler, but in a sense, more baroque things can get a pass for any one element being weak, so there’s more pressure for this to be tight as fuck, in its finished form.  Right?

I’ll talk about characters here.  It’s easy for me to get a visual of a character and just act out how I’d expect someone to act who looks like that.  Inherently superficial.  Or do one note characters, like almost everyone in Centennial Hills.  There’s an idea characters should change over time, that this is essential for main characters.  Tho I feel that’s not always needed – the maxim is overstated – it would probably make them more interesting to experience.  How can I make my cardboard cutouts feel more deep?  How can they evolve?

Leon Kennedy was fun, but completely unreasonable.  Nobody is built like that without devoting their life to bodybuilding.  That seems gay to me, which is cool, love the shirtless mod, but my mental image of an action hero is a lil more Bruce Willis than Jean-Claude.  My guy has enough muscles to do some parkour and carry some bullets.  Also less of a tool than Kennedy, who had that soldier fetish nonsense going on.

Thurston, no last name, because people remember their first names when they spawn in Hell but not the last.  Doesn’t remember life but did show up with some talent for “extreme” sport, hinting at his carefree and casual former life.  Learned quickly you have to be brave to help the people survive, and learned how to use guns and drive aggressively from his mentor Hard John.  The other risk is getting too angry.  If a heroic type gets genuinely furious during the endless violence, they might transform into a road rage demon.  In this task – staying peaceful at heart – Thurston is a natural.

How can he change over time?  The plot outline I had concludes (big spoiler) with him transcending the video game mechanics neo-style.  Not 100% decided on what that means, but mostly there.  But what about an emotional journey?  Or is a spiritual journey enough?  Nay.  Should be some emotions in it all.  I have him doing bisexual romantical stuff a lil bit…  idk.

Dejah arrives in hell with panic, runs out into traffic.  After respawning where she began that misadventure, she tries to play it cool, and learn how to live with this new circumstance.  Would she have any thoughts on escaping to heaven?  Returning to Earth?  She might not be the main character, but she is the closest to the reader’s life experience.  I should play that up, maybe.

I think in my original outline she only dies once.  (I could double back on previous article to be sure but this is annoying enough to write as is.)  Anyway, it would be more exciting if she gets close to three, but still feels the need to risk losing her last life.  The culmination of a journey from total terror to total courage.

Ralph is my Luis stand-in, but how is he distinguished?  I never watched Midnight Cowboy but clearly I picked up a lot of Ratso Rizzo from cultural osmosis, picturing that a lot.  Young Hoffman and young Pacino had similar vibes going on, but of the two, Pacino was sexier.  He aged worse, boy howdy, but that’s allowed in life.  I’m just thinking about that young guy here…

Irrelevant sidebar here, I saw that Viggo Aragorn Mortensen was in Carlito’s Way, playing a pathetic loser who ends up wearing a wire and melting down in front of our mans.  It’s funny to think, in storytelling conventions, main characters are allowed dignity, and anyone else can end up supremely humiliated.  After he got to play the king, no more humiliations.

Thinking about movie humiliations, the king of that has to be Sean Bean in Ronin.  U kno tf I’m talkin’ about, omg.  In those yt compilations of times Sean Bean died in movies, they should include that one.  He didn’t die, but his character was assassinated.

That got me considering that the embarrassing loser is a fun thing to have in a story.  I don’t remember much of anything after that scene in Ronin.  Jean Reno was acting subtly worshipful of a previous generation’s macho man, Natascha McElhone had some unfortunate make-out session to do, Jonathan Pryce was an unlikable creep.  They wanted to make it look like a car was burning rubber and used an egregious fake smoke effect.  I’m like, bring back Sean Bean, and slap him around some more!

I can’t see Thurston slapping Ralph around.  Gotta be some other ways for him to look charmingly weak…  As for how he can change over the story, still no strong ideas.

Ooh just had an idea.  While Thurston is figuring a path out of hell toward heaven, Ralph is farther down the path of transcendence – but he’s going a different direction with it.  Toward becoming like The Merchant?  When they have their big scene late in the story, Ralph gives Thurston a hint that helps him along his path.

Realizing I’m going to have to drill down the plot more, with crisscrossing arcs of action, to keep the momentum going.  (the first of july is upon me and i still haven’t)

Glossy the Doggo is inspired by video games, anime, etc. having cute animals sidekicks, and by the stock transgressive take on innocent material joke they did in a Venture Brothers episode penned by Ben Edlund – specifically the Shaggy stand-in hallucinating the Scooby stand-in talking to him like the Son of Sam.  “You are the Sword of Michael, Sonny!” -that kinda shit.

So funky little dog hangs out with Thurston and occasionally says stuff like… I’d originally described it as non-sequitur blasphemy, but it would be good to come up with a pattern to it.  Something better than “lolrandom.”  Certainly this could be a static character, so I’ll focus on this for him.  Her?  Sure.

That would be funny if her voice was sultry succubus style, coming out of a homely dog.  She shouldn’t make too much sense.  I wonder…  Asked my husband and he said maybe some legalistic attitude about rules of the road, like Mr. Eddy in Lost Highway, since we’re in vehicular hell.  …Yeah, maybe that could work.  Like, Glossy tells Thurston when he breaks the rules of the road, and the punishments the cops will mete out if he’s captured.  “You crossed the double yellow line, Thurston.  This is punishable by fifty years of evisceration.”

I also had an idea she talks about what’s going on in mechanical metaphors, something like, gigerish hell imagery…  Not sure.  Whatever.

Hard John transforms before the story begins.  Guess I’ll have to include flashbacks.  He was the original best hero of the nice hell-people, but raged too much and became a demon – specifically a traffic cop.  All the demons instinctively know their job and place in the infernal hierarchy.  Wake up in your newly assigned home.  Was the home born when he was?  Go to work.  Clock in at the cop shop, then set out on your motorcycle to corral the ragers – guns blazing.

How did it happen?  I think he had a not-quite-correct idea of what turns you into a demon, didn’t realize his anger was the issue, so he was teaching Thurston wrong.  Let’s say John thought the problem was losing control of yourself, but he was allowing himself to be mad as hell on the inside.  Over time Thurston figures out that he can never turn cop because it’s about anger, and he just isn’t an angry guy.

I had an idea that when you become a demon you get your surname back.  John become Officer Suchnsuch.  Maybe Thurston knows this, and when he starts to remember some things about his life, he fears he’s turning into a rage demon.  Turns out this also happens when you’re on a path to transcendence.

The Merchant is some inconsequential trans representation.  Hello.  As an NPC, she’s inherently static.  on the other hand, revelation she’s more than a list of exhaustible dialogue options could be a fun late stage surprise.

What does it mean to be an NPC in hell?  Not a demon, not an angel, just trading hell money for guns and such?  Maybe that’s what transcendence will look like for Ralph.  Is there room for more than one merchant in hell?  Will she get replaced by him?  If anything I might raise the possibility, then pull back and say nvm.  Usually in RPGs there’s more than one vendor, even if there wasn’t in RE.

Anyway, when I get this thing started, it’ll just be a day in a demon’s life.  I have the rough plot outline of that but fucken zero particulars developed.  This might not be pure pantsing, but it’s more close than I’m usually comfortable with.  Excelsior!

So That’s What Happened to Laura Palmer

had a dream i was a young lady taking the bus to the university district in seattle for the first time in a long time, my bookbag large but largely empty.  there was a silly bus driver having loud conversation with the other passengers that amused them, like he was a font of charisma, tho he looked a bit like a white-haired clint howard and was sometimes doing an arguably racist impression of a black blues singer.

by the time i got off the bus, i had been impressed enough to ask him to cut a track with my band sometime.  being a dream, of course i forgot my bookbag and had some drama retrieving it.  a confusing night passed into a dark blue early day.

during all of this it was being revealed that there was a path young people, mainly women, were feeling driven to undertake.  an early step involved following cars with ugly weird designs, a selection of random models from random brands, including kia, scion, and tesla.

you get these white worm-like things to go into your pupils, a different one for each hemisphere of the brain.  at one point a bunch of people were watching a girl while this happened and both went in one side, then sorted themselves out by one crawling out and going in the correct side.

then you feel compelled to eat at least four of these little charms.  in the dream they were called labubus but they were more like a cross between pikmins and teletubbies, dangled from bracelets and such.

i did these things, at last getting my bookbag back on that same bus that blue morning.  i got off the bus and followed the ugly cars into a parking tower, where i joined a procession with laura palmer to the rooftop.  there bright yellow tufts of hair began to grow out of our faces and we fed ourselves like food to UFOs.

good morning.

Dead and Funky, Lethally Sunny

Both bloggers and commenters seem to be less active at the moment, which, if my perception isn’t slanted, started with the commenters slowing down.  Salrite, things can be like that.  At the same time, FtB has become a bit unstable.  It’s actin’ funky.

Given the recent legal shenanigans, I wonder that one of the haters has decided to employ extralegal shenanigans against us.  Something something DNS something DDoS something whatever.  It isn’t full-on like those weird takedowns that hit us from South Asia.

Speaking of South Asia, I heard thousands of people are dying from the heat there, but this was only from one random social media post.  In fairness to mainstream news, such as it be, I don’t follow it, so I wouldn’t know if they’re giving that short shrift or not.  Good luck to all of you.  AGW is a beast.

I saw another social media post collecting tweets from immigrants in France suffering the heatwave there, reporting their embarrassment that it hit them so bad, when they lived through higher temps in their home countries all the time.  Somebody commented that even at noon, the closer you get to a pole the more you get broadsided by the sun’s rays – it’s hitting more of your body than just the head and shoulders.  I dunno.

Anyway, y’all know I despise the sun like the veriest of vampires, so big sympathies.

Nadia Rose

UK rap lady Nadia Rose cross’d my recs on yt because apparently I like lady musicians too much, but I appreciate it.  She’s very talented and cute.  This video is several years old.  I don’t know if she was a teenager at the time, but she’s giving teen girl squad energy in a good way.

One annoying grain in the back of the mind whenever you’re confronted with a new artist from the UK is … are they terfy?  Is Terf Island.  Is this style descended from the Afro-Caribbean community, who are notoriously homophobic?  I remember enjoying Roots Manuva a lot until he said “away with the fairies” and I was like, oh, away with me.  Sigh.

So I’m not going to look it up and find out.  Meanwhile, she had to take some years off due to label bullshit, and she grew up and filled out.  Lookin nice, madamoiselle, and still rocking out…

Wotta doll.  So fun.  It’s in the mix now.

Maybe Jesus Died for God’s Sins

Heretical notion, not much to it, but it makes more sense the canon version of events.  I am constantly confronted with the suffering of humanity.  Being created means experiencing pain, anguish, humiliation, and death.  That’s a lot of bullshit which can be squarely laid at the feet of the creator, right?

So god sees what he’s done and is like, hm, would it help if you could return the favor to me?  Make me suffer, humiliate me, watch me die?  And we say, yes, thank you, and do a number on his avatar.  But the resurrection makes his death cheap.  I’m far from the first to point that out, but in the context of this theory, it’s worse than usual.

Let’s get “gnostic” – that is to say, for the purpose of this post, let’s suppose the mainstream version of events was written by a great deceiver, a demiurge trying to bend us to the will of a god who isn’t there, make us feel guilty for our own suffering.  In truth, jesus died and stayed dead, god’s final apology and absolution for the horrors he inflicted upon us.

His death frees us to become rulers of our own destiny, and gives us the fond memory of a scapegoat for all our pain.  Getting bullied at school?  Imagine the person responsible for you being there, being scourged and driven through the streets.  Feeling chronic pain you know will only be relieved by your death?  Picture the guy what did it to you, nailed to the cross, struggling to breathe.  About to die, wishing more of your life could have been pleasant, or that you at least had a little more time to try?  At least the guy who did that to you got shanked in the side, knowing full well the only relief he’d experience was – like for you – nonexistence.

I expect you to discuss this in the comments with the gravity of the college of cardinals.  Thank you.

Check ya Baskets

There’s a dark-eyed junco mom who has made a nest and laid her eggs in one of the hanging baskets on my back porch.  They are ground nesters who find a mass of vegetation (such as the flowers in your hanging basket) ideal terrain.  If my husband didn’t notice her, those eggs would have been drowned, and mom might have gotten low key rekt from the hose as well.

Other stressors in the neighborhood include a driveway being torn up and replaced like twelve feet away this weekend, and people setting off fireworks every night from about June 1st to July 30th.  The basket hanging from a chain may have shock absorption qualities, but still.

There’s also us.  We have to walk past that nest, within a few feet of it, every time we want to do something behind the house.  If she notices she’s getting noticed, she abandons the nest for a while, and eventually comes back.

Lastly, there are other birds that peck around those baskets.  I doubt a chickadee or wren would be too dangerous, but a scrub jay or stellers jay would totally eat those eggs.  They tend toward the baskets closer to the outer edge of the awning, and are more drawn to ones with coconut core they can loot for nesting material of their own, so likely to miss our sneaky lil gal.

I’m annoyed she’s imposed on us in this way, made us have to be concerned about her.  Also, she’s impossible to look at, because she’s so well hidden in there.  On a bright day you can see a specular highlight on her peepers and a pale beak, deep in the leaves.  But if you see her that well, she’s likely to get nervous and jet, so we don’t really get a nice birdwatching experience out of the deal.

Anyway, if you have potted plants outside your home, watch out for nests.

I Hurt Yer Daddy, Sunshine

Medley in my mind this morning, sort of a downbeat for a low mood.  I’ve alluded to the existence of this particular horrible song before, but I mention it again – “Father’s Grave” by Glenn Danzig and Melissa auf der Mar – because it was the starting point.  I might have been thinking about sex-adjacent things and Danzig at the time, and that tune emerged from the shadows to punish me for it.

Song Two:  “Hurt,” the original Nine Inch Nails version.  Song Three:  “Age of Aquarius,” but just that “Let the Sun Shine In” part.

Anyone else music-accursed this Sunday?

Oh hey, happy Father’s Day!

In Praise of Italian Anarchists

First of all, would you even want to be called Italian?

I’m reflecting recently on the history of fascism, for unfortunately current reasons, and that included a brief tour of the wikipedia page on mussolini’s assassination attempts.  I had mentioned in fond terms the Irish woman who tried to kill him, tho it seems likely she was more motivated by mental illness than ideology.  In checking out that page I also found a few archetypal “bomb throwing anarchists,” which got me thinking about them.

I have only a slim outside idea of the history, and who knows how much of it is real, how much propaganda?  Sacco and Vanzetti were names that made a brief appearance in a junior high textbook.  I once saw a blogpost about the history of anarchy among Italian immigrants to the usa, how they aggressively threatened priests who had evangelized to them.  I imagine some of them volunteered in the Spanish Civil War.  Serious characters.

What happened to them?  Was their movement broken?  Did their kids all quietly integrate into the mainstream?  Or did they never go away?  Are they still around, still at it?  An unbroken chain of political culture going back to the days when lil benny and his wife got strung up?

Did they exist before Italy existed, among its various provinces when they were still city-states?  Did they emerge as resistance to the nationalism that forged the modern state?  Would they resent being called Italian, preferring Florentine, Lombard, Sicilian?  Was the whole movement centered in one province?

Hey, maybe I’ll copy-paste this whole line of curiosity to a chatbot, following the links it provides or taking them with salt.  Meanwhile, I just leave you with vague meanderings.

It’s hard to imagine a radical left community having that strength, coming from my shithole country.  Anarchists here are scattered college kids, a vanishingly tiny fraction of the population.

Italian anarchists, or whatever nationality you prefer, if any, I salute you.  From what I’ve heard about Italy’s current government, your work is not done.  No gods, no masters.  Long live the fighters.

Edit to Add:  Here’s what Claude Sonnet had to say…

Here’s what I can tell you:
Did Italian anarchism predate Italy?
Sort of — but not in the way you might imagine. The earliest signs of anarchism in Italy appeared in the 1850s and 1860s, emerging from the dominant republican and nationalist movement headed by Garibaldi and Mazzini. So it grew alongside the Risorgimento (Italian unification), not in opposition to some ancient city-state tradition. The fight for unification created a generation of revolutionaries who then turned around and questioned all forms of authority, including the new Italian state itself. In that sense, the anarchists were the radical wing of the very movement that forged modern Italy — and then immediately became its most committed enemies.

On the identity question — would they resent being called Italian?
This is fascinating. Italian anarchists’ relationship to nationalism was the exact reverse of ordinary long-distance nationalists. Their ideology was anti-nationalist, and their project was not to build the nation-state but to abolish it. They were, however, deeply connected by shared language and culture, and remained committed to political struggle in their homeland. So they’d probably bristle at the label — not in favor of Florentine or Lombard pride, but because they rejected the whole concept of national identity as such.

The Spanish Civil War — yes, you were right about that. Among the almost 3,000 foreign anarchists who fought in the Spanish Civil War, more than 100 came from the United States, and Italian-born anarchists were among them. The Spanish Civil War proved to be their last great campaign in a meaningful sense — the Republican defeat of 1939 meant anarchism permanently lost its last mass base of support.

What happened to the movement? Was it broken?
Fascism crushed it at home brutally but couldn’t fully kill it. The fascists assassinated and detained most of the leaders of the anti-fascist movement, which was completely dismantled by 1924. But remarkably, anarchists immediately threw themselves into armed struggle in the Italian Resistance after Italy’s surrender in 1943, establishing autonomous partisan formations in Carrara, Pistoia, Genoa, and Milan.

Are they still around?

They never went away. The Italian Anarchist Federation (FAI) was founded in 1945 in Carrara, took it upon itself to carry on the legacy of the Italian Anarchist Communist Union suppressed by fascism in 1926, and continues to publish Umanità Nova, an anarchist newspaper originally founded by Errico Malatesta. That’s an unbroken institutional thread. And anarchists are today present nationwide, involved in all principal social and political conflicts, with more than 60 active spaces and an articulated presence online and in the militant press.

There’s also a more militant and controversial strain: an Informal Anarchist Federation (a separate, insurrectionary network) officially appeared in 2003 and has since carried out a series of mostly non-lethal bombings and letter-bomb campaigns against EU officials, financial institutions, and military targets.

The geography question
The movement wasn’t centered in one province, though certain places have symbolic weight. Carrara — a marble-quarrying town in Tuscany — is almost mythologically important to Italian anarchism; it’s where the postwar Federation was founded and where major congresses were held. The industrial north (Turin, Milan, Genoa) was the heart of anarcho-syndicalist labor organizing. But the movement was genuinely national, and its immigrant branches stretched to Argentina, the US, and beyond.
The immigrant question in the US
You’re right that you’ve seen something real. Italian immigrant anarchism in the US was serious and well-organized — figures like Luigi Galleani ran influential publications and networks, and the Galleanist strain was the most militant of all, associated with bombings in the 1910s–20s. Sacco and Vanzetti were part of that milieu. The Spanish Civil War proved to be the last great campaign of America’s diminished anarchist movement — after that, between McCarthyism, assimilation, and the death of the immigrant radical networks, the US branch pretty much dissolved. The kids did, largely, integrate into the mainstream.

The Italian branch is a different story entirely. Whether you call it an unbroken chain or a series of revivals is a matter of interpretation, but the culture, the institutions, and the publications have genuine continuity from Malatesta’s day to the present.

Waiting for the Murk

That trillionaire fuck been in the news again for (possibly) the biggest evil he’s committed since ending usaid condemned millions to death:  using his xitter to incite and inflame neo-nazi violence.  Reminded me of when I speculated on what might get him assassinated.

This is a strong contender.  Remember when that old Irish gal went all the way to shitaly to take a shot little benny musso?  Rest in power, Violet.  Anyhow, apartheid junior, by some metrics, has more power to make the world a worse place than the original fascist did.

I know there’s a small vocal faction in FtB comments who are die-hard that speech inciting evil should never itself be considered evil, by whatever definitions and terms they prefer.  Like they regard my position here equivalent to accusing the fash of thought crimes.

While racists are burning immigrants out of their homes in northern Ireland, while my nuke-happy nation is in the hands of neo-nazis, don’t bring that ignorant idealistic shit in my comments.  Thanks.

Meanwhile, violets are being sown.  I’d love to see a bumper crop.  edit to add: and you can call that a thought crime.  👶🤙