ca. 1850s, [daguerreotype portrait of a morose violinist]
ca. 1850s, [daguerreotype portrait of a morose violinist]
*google searches “how to make new friends without talking to people”*
Reblogged because my Twitter account is leaking into Tumblr I guess.
Speaking of which, I want to do a 2-part analysis of my one-joke-a-day project. (If you’re not familiar with it, I’ve been posting one joke a day to my Facebook account as an experiment in discipline/creativity. I’ve done it for almost a year straight, with one week left to go.) I have a bunch to say about it, plus I want to do some Natural Language Processing analysis using my jokes as the corpus. I want to split my analysis into my feels and my thinks.
I still haven’t decided whether to post my analysis to the audience, my Facebook friends. After a year of doing this every day, I still haven’t figured out my relationship with my Facebook friends — are they my confidants, or simply my audience? I shouldn’t say “simply” — an audience is a crucial part of a performance.
However, my philosophy has always been that whatever I put out on Internet, I put out for myself. I have always been neglectful of the audience. The thing is, though, that my philosophy might be changing.
At my job, the customer is always king. Everything we do starts from the customer experience and works backwards. And what is the audience if not the customer for the performance piece? But I’m a customer of the piece, too, though. As I said, I still haven’t figured out my relationship and my work’s relationship with the audience and with myself.#dude what are you even talking about #jokes project
#natural language processing #computer science #toys #this is a good thing““Bots like this show you that you exist,” says social media theorist and sociologist Nathan Jurgenson, who studies the interactions between our digital and IRL selves. (He’s also pretty well known for his job as Snapchat’s in-house sociologist.) “You’ve posted all these status updates, they really did matter, they haven’t gone away, they were recorded, and they say something about you. It’s the same thing people said when Friendster came around: We want proof that we exist.”
Jurgenson says that’s the most basic impulse behind our desire to engage with and share these reflective tokens, but the reason they actually succeed in entertaining us – why we find these statuses hilarious enough to share with our friends – is a little more complex. According to Jurgenson and other social theorists, “apps” like What Would I Say? (which isn’t really an app, but it interacts with Facebook’s API as such) mimic human behavior, but not quite perfectly, which also makes it less unnerving.
“It’s an uncanny valley situation, where [the app] reflects the self, but not too well, and not too poorly,” he says. “It’s enough of you that you recognize yourself, but it’s a distorted-enough reflection where it’s not creepy.”
Beautiful and necessary meditation by Andrew Sullivan on what happens once we concede that our memory (and our selves) will belong to the cloud.
(Source: , via explore-blog)
Most things are lies.
One jump ahead of the breadline, one leap something or other, something about stealing cus im hungry
#jokes project #joke formats
YOU GUYS! I figured out the best kind of joke! I’ve been workshopping this bit for the past few months and when dropped into casual conversation it has never not received an overwhelmingly positive reaction. I do not think I am overstating things when I call this ever-adaptable joke structure the very best kind of joke there could ever possibly be. Since I am nothing if not generous I now give this bold new style of joke to you, the world. Have at it! Enjoy being hilarious!
#washington #mt. rainier #pacific northwest
Photo by Brandon Yoshizawa (Gardena, CA); Mt. Rainier, WA
#why did i get choked up at this
WOULD ANY SANE PERSON think dumpster diving would have stopped Hitler, or that composting would have ended slavery or brought about the eight-hour workday, or that chopping wood and carrying water would have gotten people out of Tsarist prisons, or that dancing naked around a fire would have helped put in place the Voting Rights Act of 1957 or the Civil Rights Act of 1964? Then why now, with all the world at stake, do so many people retreat into these entirely personal “solutions”?
Part of the problem is that we’ve been victims of a campaign of systematic misdirection. Consumer culture and the capitalist mindset have taught us to substitute acts of personal consumption (or enlightenment) for organized political resistance. An Inconvenient Truth helped raise consciousness about global warming. But did you notice that all of the solutions presented had to do with personal consumption—changing light bulbs, inflating tires, driving half as much—and had nothing to do with shifting power away from corporations, or stopping the growth economy that is destroying the planet? Even if every person in the United States did everything the movie suggested, U.S. carbon emissions would fall by only 22 percent. Scientific consensus is that emissions must be reduced by at least 75 percent worldwide.
Or let’s talk water. We so often hear that the world is running out of water. People are dying from lack of water. Rivers are dewatered from lack of water. Because of this we need to take shorter showers. See the disconnect? Because I take showers, I’m responsible for drawing down aquifers? Well, no. More than 90 percent of the water used by humans is used by agriculture and industry. The remaining 10 percent is split between municipalities and actual living breathing individual humans. Collectively, municipal golf courses use as much water as municipal human beings. People (both human people and fish people) aren’t dying because the world is running out of water. They’re dying because the water is being stolen.
…Personal change doesn’t equal social change.”
Where I went to college in the purple valley of northwest Massachusetts, there was a fellow in my class who used to drag a brick around by a string. He called it his “pet brick.” Every night he would drag his brick into the campus snack bar when the snack bar was most crowded, and order two vanilla milkshakes—one for himself, one for his brick. The first time I saw him I laughed at the absurdity of the proposition. A pet brick! A brick drinking a milkshake! The subsequent occasions of my seeing this fellow and his brick made me respond differently. Often I was angry, thinking he dragged the brick for just the clamor that will always attend the outrageous. Sometimes, when I could convince myself that he and his brick were actually a charade protesting technology gone wild or man’s inhumanity to man, I could feel the pleasant twinge of belonging to a fraternity of hoodwinkers. But when I saw him in the early morning, dragging his brick through the empty quad, my heart would fill with the silent despair that rose from the strange interplay between them. Just as it was impossible to know exactly how he felt about the brick, in those days I never knew how I should feel about anything. Only one thing was clear. He did not love the brick. Nor did the brick love him. This fact became my reference point in all matters of faith.
My one-joke-a-day-on-Facebook project is nearing its end. My last joke will be in 27 days. I’m gathering my thoughts on the whole thing, and this quote resonated with me.#jokes project