New Mix: Fort Night
Which is why the point [of Wikileaks] is not that particular leaks are specifically effective. Wikileaks does not leak something like the “Collateral Murder” video as a way of putting an end to that particular military tactic; that would be to target a specific leg of the hydra even as it grows two more. Instead, the idea is that increasing the porousness of the conspiracy’s information system will impede its functioning, that the conspiracy will turn against itself in self-defense, clamping down on its own information flows in ways that will then impede its own cognitive function. You destroy the conspiracy, in other words, by making it so paranoid of itself that it can no longer conspire.
Presumably man’s spirit should be elevated if he can better review his shady past and analyze more completely and objectively his present problems. He has built a civilization so complex that he needs to mechanize his records more fully if he is to push his experiment to its logical conclusion and not merely become bogged down part way there by overtaxing his limited memory. His excursions may be more enjoyable if he can reacquire the privilege of forgetting the manifold things he does not need to have immediately at hand, with some assurance that he can find them again if they prove important.
The applications of science have built man a well-supplied house, and are teaching him to live healthily therein. They have enabled him to throw masses of people against one another with cruel weapons. They may yet allow him truly to encompass the great record and to grow in the wisdom of race experience. He may perish in conflict before he learns to wield that record for his true good. Yet, in the application of science to the needs and desires of man, it would seem to be a singularly unfortunate stage at which to terminate the process, or to lose hope as to the outcome.
Vannevar Bush, As We May Think, July 1945
Yet just as we feel all hope is lost and we sink back into the miasma, back to the shadow world of ghosts and gods, a miracle arises; everywhere before the direction of self interest is known, people yearn to see where its compass points and then they hunger for truth with passion and beauty and insight. He loves me. He loves me not. Here then is the truth to set them free. Free from the manipulations and constraints of the mendacious. Free to choose their path, free to remove the ring from their noses, free to look up into the infinite voids and choose wonder over whatever gets them though. And before this feeling to cast blessings on the profits and prophets of truth, on the liberators and martyrs of truth, on the Voltaires, Galileos, and Principias of truth, on the Gutenburgs, Marconis and Internets of truth, on those serial killers of delusion, those brutal, driven and obsessed miners of reality, smashing, smashing, smashing every rotten edifice until all is ruins and the seeds of the new.
Julian Assange, 29.08.2007
This man clearly has a plan, as well as the dedication and the means to go the distance, whatever that may mean.
Geological Investigation of the Alluvial Valley of the Lower Mississippi River (1944)
Harold Fisk
Its easy to see we got in too far and not much is really sacred.
Every other week I realize that Stephen Malkmus is one of the most brilliant, mad and creative people I’ve ever had the pleasure of being exposed to. He merges gripping melancholy, indecipherable lyrics, downright fun instrumentation (steel drums! Accordions!), good looks, effortlessly brilliant songwriting, epic psych guitar journeys and uplifting slackerism into an irresistable body of work so amazing I’ve now spent 40 minutes trying to choose a single song to post. Impossible to pick one that could stand for and represent all the others.
Now it’s all so straight and narrow and the skeptics rule the nation
So, on a whim, here’s Witch Mountain Bridge. It has odd medieval undertones that warp into one of those previously mentioned epic guitar affairs. It has an organ that does surprisingly chirpy, cheerful things inbetween all the darkness. I have no idea what the song is about, but the lyrics are wonderful. I adore the way the song nearly comes to a halt in the middle, gets fleshed out with an unexpected warbly synth and then gradually opens up into an ever more effusive guitar solo towards the end.
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Tail section of the magnificent Soviet Ekranoplan Lun, now rotting away here. More photos here, seen on BoingBoing. Lovely shades of grey, like something out of an alien landscape.
Die Goldenen Zitronen - Mila.
Von dem Bass da ganz am Ende bekomme ich jedes Mal Gänsehaut.
