Tag Archives: technology

Forget ’bout IT

The Eve of Destruction

This just in. Zombies are sweeping across America, waving a black banner reading Zombie Nation. They know you don’t want to convert, so they don’t bother trying. They just kill you. They can’t really eat you because they’re already stuffed. They just take a bite and move on. Why they do this is unknown and unknowable. Kinda like ISIS. The Zombie Faith has been embraced by millions of Americans, who vote zombies into office, buy CDs by zombies, read zombie books, and go to zombie movies. Do they believe in life after death? Obviously. But they’re stuck here on Earth; there’s no paradise, just long lines at the soup kitchens of the middle class apocalypse. Together with the pizza-faced robots of the uber rich, they pretty much control what we think and how we act, using targeted advertising strengthened by surveillance. The disguised robots are immune to the VV (violence virus), but allow it to spread because the fear factor (including Zika and Ebola) gives them ultimate control. So even the zombies have become pawns, and the invisible overseers (pulling the strings of the walking dead in Congress) will deal with them after the zombies have dealt with us.

1) Be born into the right family.

2) Be extraordinarily lucky, driven, and a sociopath.

3) Move to a country with one dollar (or kopek or mark or real) and hyperinflation.

4) Become a narcissistic rapper televangelist hedge fund manager sports god with a psychopathic urge to symbolically (or otherwise) cut off all rivals at the knees (while exploiting children and/or getting an endorsement contract from Coke and/or Pepsi.)

5) 1, 2, and 4.

6) Supply trillion dollar-funded Homeland Security with spy software that improves on existing software, and so doesn’t require them to get the FBI to ask citizens to help in identifying terrorists.

7) Start a third party that has an actual chance of winning elections, preventing the same-old-thing from happening one last time. (Emphasis on the word “last.”)

8) Come up with an actual zombie virus that doesn’t mean (symbolically) voters and politicians…then build your All-American bunker, and emerge after the zombies starve due to (double) death because they don’t (somehow) realize that they can eat animals or each other, and not just members of our Post Truth Society (run by a zombie two party system.) Note: now you’ll have piles of post-tax dollars to roll around in while wearing obscene jewelry.

9) 1 and 7.

10) †§¶®ojojo£∆∆ˆçƒ∫º∆ (Learn Ancient Alien code, and summon them to king you.)

Q: If you’re a white collar criminal, and you answer the door, which response to your question, “who are you?” would you most NOT want to hear.

a) “Hi, we’re from the church of latter day saints.”

b) “I’m detective Wilson from the bunko squad.”

c) “I’m from Frontline, and my colleague is from 60 Minutes.”

A: a) you smile; b) you smile; c) you faint.    

 

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Trans-Fat Still in Wide Use in the USA

 

food

Artificial trans fats, better known to many American consumers as partially hydrogenated vegetable oil, have contributed to a half million deaths a year, many of those in developing countries ill-equipped to address the health threats posed by a product cherished for its low price and long shelf life. It’s not just fast food giants that carry trans fats, it is also most grocery store chains. Even “Safeway” carries products that are virtual poisons to the body. Buyer beware. Read the fine print, made tiny for two reasons: they are legally obligated to “report” the ingredients, and they hope you won’t see it. Descriptions and names of ingredients are intentionally misleading, too. Plus serving size. Decrease the serving size and the amount of sugar you’re getting seems okay…if you only have a couple teaspoons and not a giant bowl. In Publix markets they have their own brand of ice cream, with both trans fat and high fructose corn syrup, Lots of chemicals on the label in tiny print. But it costs less, and is sooooo yummy! (Cheaper to make.) Which is also why Americans are the fattest, and have the highest health care costs. “More is better,” is our mantra. “Give us more! Make America Great again!” LOL> Yup…our President eats at McDonalds. Pets eat better than people at McDonalds. Pet food: “No trans fat, no grain fed, no HFCS, with added vitamins.” Now read “Fast Food Nation,” about McDonalds food, where it comes from, how the animals are abused and less healthy than grass fed (which costs more.) Money is God. (Or, rather, short term profits, as in Avatar: “The only thing the shareholders care about is their quarterly statement, not dying indigenous.”) Not only can money win elections, but promises about it can get re-elections. Trump 2020? If we don’t all blow up, first, you bet. We love bold and narcissistic, too.  (Never mind the EPA. As “Mr. Wonderful” says, “It’s all about the money. I love money. So show me the…MONEY…”) Humm. Guess the White House doesn’t believe the Bible, after all. Bible: “The love of money is the root of all evil.” Bank records, Mueller and Trump Jr.? Junior shoots animals for trophies, accepted money for access to dear old dad. Hotels, casinos, Stormy Daniels payoff. There’s “more!” There is a current battle between Lidl and other markets on the price of eggs. They undercut each other to get business. Some sales are .17 cents for a dozen. But why would anyone want to eat those eggs? There’s also a bacteria outbreak in cheap eggs. They aren’t healthy to eat. The chickens never see the light of day. Christian Chickens, too. Chick-fil-a is closed on Sunday because that’s “the Lord’s Day.” Their chickens are farmed, mistreated. Yumm? The argument I’ve heard is that mankind is made in the image of God, and so we are superior and therefore we “have dominion” over the animals, which were sacrificed in the Bible. For a barbecue? Swine (pigs) in the Bible were once invaded by demons, and there are sermons against eating something with “a cloven hoof.”  But Christian pork barbecues are everywhere at church picnics. Having studied the intelligence and sensitivity (feeling) of hogs for this novel, I can report that we do indeed share much of the DNA of hogs, whose organs can be harvested for humans, or human organs grown in their bodies. The sad thing is that they make great pets, yet are considered “food,” and so it’s somehow okay for Christians (and others) to look the other way, instead of reading all the fine print. Who reads anymore anyway, right? Ask Kanye! He’s rich. Education must be unimportant! Teachers? Blaaa. Boring. Go on AGT or The Voice, and the local newspapers will track your every word! “Have you got a minute? Give us more!” The Evangelicals don’t mention Trump liking Kanye. You can call that “Confirmation bias.” Looking only for evidence that supports your claims. Do that, and you might end up believing the Earth is flat. Coffee? We need a third party, a missing Third Man (or Woman.) Because it’s time to wake up.

Psychopene: Future Pharmaceutical

Science Fiction

Kid called the drug Psychopene. What began as a pharmaceutical for clinical depression got cooked in his Tempe condo into something more third eye interesting than any previous indy variant. Thing about it, though, it put you to sleep. Only in your dreams could you fly new skies of chance, like trance. No side effects like LSD, either. Kid figured the molecule might be just the thing for nerds whose other escape was first person shooter immersion or Star Lord movies. Except he needed help, and vetoed telling his father for fear of being cut off.

Kid Holler was Hank Hollowell, a geek pothead biomedical major whose dad mined rare earths like Xenotime in Brazil. We’d once shared a dorm room at ASU until we graduated to beta test and market his creation. Me? I’d been a journalism major with a minor in business. Unemployed too, until my very first dream dive, an hour into which I envisioned a flotilla of revelers depart a dying city that resembled Phoenix, selfie drones angling to take vid snips to be stitched and stored should the realistically devastated alternate world I’d visualized be magically repopulated. Vivid? Imagine Coachella and Burning Man at the end of time, and you might get a gist of it. It was beyond wild, this deep REM stuff, no doubt tricked from my subconscious by the drug. Somehow I knew citizens had refused cybernetic immortality to join these caravans of “Freebirds” which navigated the oceans, farmlands and deserts in seeking out final festivals of human experience. Some pretty heady philosophical backstory might explain this awareness. But I didn’t know what the frag it ultimately meant, because I couldn’t vis it all.

Ecstatic as the drug initially made him, Kid soon became flummoxed by my reaction, since I wasn’t gaga about his plans for patenting or going on Narc Tank. Sure, our highs were better than VR and more visceral than any rave mood drug could induce. The visions felt like stepping into movie star roles, too. Still, as a portal, Kid’s dreamtime white powder scared me: unique, as a ticket to a new playground of art and orgy, yet ominous in a way I couldn’t explain. If Holler shouted about gleefully endless orgiastic scenarios, mine were ever more inexplicable, evolving into something recurrent, like dictation. Like a gaming script programmed by a disembodied intelligent machine. “What the hell,” Kid said when I tried to describe them. For him it was like the exploitation gaming scripts he’d dreamed of producing—a drug runner mini series featuring lots of guns, girls, and virtual gambling. Occasionally he got to play the lead role, full of mindless banter, petty jealousies, and threats of violence on steroids. A theme he enjoyed. But the rush left me exhausted and confused upon waking. So sketching ideas for ‘package and sell’ seemed premature.

“I think you should let some girls try it, before proceeding,“ I told him. “Call it something more appropriate, too.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know. How about REM ROD. A hot rod for some, divining rod for others.” I pantomimed potential promo covers. “The life you want and can’t have. An adventure inside your own head.” I paused. “Or just describe it as a date drug with benefits. One girl takes it as another watches. She wakes and reports. Then they switch roles. We don’t even need to be there. Just keep a camera running, and get them to report what happens, too.”

“You crazy,” Holler said. But he liked my idea, as he always had. Then he repeated the name, as though he’d just seen the future himself.

RemRod.

We did it. Kid told girls they’d get to be the date rapists. I filed their releases as notary in my safety deposit box. Then, after it was over, our beta test girls raved. Dreamland, apparently, was whatever you brought to the party. Or didn’t. Upshot is, Kid got an investor and Big Pharma sponsor after showing them our vid and providing samples. Soon after that he got new threads, hotter wheels, and a swankier crib. In short order.

Still, I declined another go, myself. Channeling courage from some inner ether, perhaps.

“Why you acting like this?” Holler asked over coffee, six weeks in. “Tactar Pharmaceuticals is taking over testing. Clinical trials with patent pending on a class seven recreational. You’ll get a nice bonus, buddy. Guaranteed.”

Kid had fronted me ten grand, and signed me to five percent of future company profits in exchange for occasional business and marketing deeds.

“It’s not that,” I said. “It’s just, we don’t really know what’s going on here. You said it was partly an accident, right? Tactar said it wasn’t a hallucinogen. They aren’t sure what it is. Hell, I don’t think it has anything to do with opening up some part of the brain we don’t use, either. That’s bogus urban legend. But obviously in certain cases, like mine, it involves seeing stuff beyond the pale. Not with superpowers, but with extra sensory perception, maybe. Like remote viewing.”

He just blinked at me, forehead crinkling.

I continued. “Listen, they still don’t know how consciousness works, or why we dream. What if it’s to sort out our reality from other timelines, from some other stream of…”

“Parallel universes?”

(Continued in Judge Jury. Ebook at iTunes, BN.com, Amazon.)