Saturday, July 26, 2025

50th High School Reunion

My brother texted me a grade school friend of mine I hadn't seen in 25 years asking for my contract information. He was going to the Valparaiso High School Reunion. Did bro want to send him contact info? No, I replied. Maybe. Let me think.

Courtesy wise I should give him my phone number. Attending the reunion?  I will not attend.

For memories? I remember high school as being an experience I couldn't wait to get out of, only to find it was high school all the way down out in society. And 50 years of adulterated street drugs have definitely taken their toll. I looked at elementary scchool pictures (which is a big part of the reunion) ansd couldn't name half of them. And the ones I remembered were dead.

I know this event will remind me of how stupid and shallow I was. A callow youth, I was. How I was autistic and didn't know it, in the Honors classes with the smart alphas and popular kids. I was a beta in their world. I felt like a delta. I was ok at sports but did not get a varsity jacket. I was on the varisty teams but dropped sports to work. (The arrangement being my parents would pay half of college costs). I worked a year after graduation. I felt I needed to be held back a year, because I felt behind my cohort. (Too funny, later we found out Kurmans were thought to maybe the smartest in town). 

Thank god for pot. speed, and acid. This was the highlight of my high school experience. I dropped acid my junior year Steptember 1974, and I honestly don't think I've come down from it. 

The drug and alcohol abuse didnt do a lick to my autism one way or the other. They talk about a spectrum, but to me it is more like tribes. Geeks, nerds, dorks, dweebs, weirdos. And awkwards. I always thought I was a weirdo, but it turns out I'm an awkward.

My awkward abilities always manifest at the most inopportune time. I look like a clumsy made clownish via overcorrection  YES, EMBARASSING. But occasionally a serendipitous  awkwardness produces fucking magic, so I got no problem being an awkward.

But it did make junior high and high school unpleasant for me. Still another reason not to go.

I do applaud the Valparaiso Community School System and the teachers I had. Some of the best in the state. As my dad once said, if it wasn't for the university, we'd be just another Hoosier shithole.



Tuesday, July 22, 2025

Xenophilia and other considerations

The British SF writer Charles Stross once noticed a similarity between the existential horrors populating the works of HP Lovecraft and the Cold War nation states. Godlike uncaring entities vying for power and dominance with little regard for the other creatures inhabiting the universe.

The result of this insight resulted in an ongoing book series called the Laundry Files, a mixture of spycraft (down and dirty espionage along the lines of John Le Carre) and Lovecraftian horrors from Beyond all embedded in the usual governmental bureaucracy. 

Separately, Mr. Stross has often complained about how reality is always nipping at his heels when it comes to near future fiction. Lately he has been complaining about how current affairs are increasingly looking like the macabre fictions of his Laundry Files. Our government is increasingly looking like a Lovecraftian horror. I would go a step further and suggest that perhaps Mr. Stross is manifesting his own work.

It reminds me of a casual observation I made between the Marvel Cinematic Universe stories about Thor the God of Thunder and my own situation. In one movie, Thor loses an eye. I lose an eye. His compatriot Valkyrie loses a kidney. I lose a kidney. Please, writers of the MCU, stop maiming me.

Mr. Stross produced a novel which posited that the US Government was now possessed by Cthulhu, and I can't untangle this from our current administration. An idiot god ready to consume his humans just to be in charge of the world, or our portion of it. So I am putting out a special plea to Mr. Stross to stop, just stop. While we are all of us still here.

Of course this is sillinesss and yet there is truth to the idea of governmental and corporate superorganisms as massive slow AIs having little regard for the people that consitute them. 

I am currently reading Empire Of AI by Karen Hao. I've skimmed through the sections about the big players and personalities involved in the development of AI and their power stuggles because these are boring people. Interchangeable personalities spouting equally boring bullshit. (No question, there is a ton of money in Narrow AI, but these people aren't helping any in their quest for AGI).

I'm much more concerned about the chapters that point out the disaster capitalism involved in using up resources and energy in pursuing AI models, the massive criminal theft of creative works used in loading up these stochastic parrots, and the horrific stories of gig workers in the Global South who are both exploited and traumatized by cleaning data of all the really terrible things that humans can do to each other. (Facebook is guilty AF when it comes abusing workers to "sanitize" content). 

It would seem that the human operators of corporations eventually are subsumed by the objective functions of the massive slow AIs they work for. Note how Google went from Don't Be Evil to Enshittify Everything and the human personaliies merely rationalize the corporate behavior with a shrug of dismissal and buy another superyacht.

Unfortunately, the current US administration has embraced the notion of running government like a business with the predictable fucked up results.

I think there is another way to resolve this still before we are all drowned in AI slop and the return of feudalism. The late great David Graeber once correctly noticed that in the private sector, 90% of  the service industry jobs were actually care jobs. Not only were the best performers approaching their tasks from a care standpoint, they were also practicing the concept of no bullshit.

My brother E William once told me that he would accompany our dad, a salesman of medical monitoring devices, would often strike out on sales calls at universities and hospitals. At one convention, a biology professor tried to play my dad against a rival salesman from a competing company. That salesman promised the professor that his machines could do all sorts of things. The salesman was blowing smoke up the professor's ass. Dad was honest and said his machines couldn't do what the professor wanted, and lost the bid. But a year later, the professor called him and bought a dozen devices which produced a very nice commision indeed. Dad's moral of the story: Don't Bullshit or you will eventually be found out.

Point being Dad was not operating as a salesman trying to score a sale, but rather as a care giver identifying the needs of the customer and providing a solution to the need. I've seen this in exceptional people again and again in the service industry. Retail clerks, mechanics, you name it, they all act more like doctors and nurses to provide the need. Cost isn't secondary, but profit is. The profit is getting a bee back with the hive. The profit, many times over, but tertiary, is a productive bee.

Nowadays, in the for-profit healthcare industry, the unfortunate tendency is to bullshit to make a profit. That is not a good care strategy and people only get pissed off and cynical. But if we go back to, yes, losing money but increasing quality of life, we actually make a profit through good care. Export that model and things get better. 

It's a stupidly simple change, but it seems to work over and over. Maybe it is not too late.

Other things. We poured bronze. Mine came through and I got it all cleaned up and done quickly for a change. 



This piece, tentatively titled Zuon, is part of a series of sculptures where I asked the question How will humans treat aliens/AI/robots if we are on kind of an equal level. The answer was treat them like animals. Not always good. Sometimes bad. 

Friday, July 4, 2025

It's a Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad World

Director Stanley Kramer had come off of two dramatic films; Inherit The Wind and Judgement at Nuremberg, and wanted to do something light hearted. IAMMMMW is a chase comedy, not particularly funny, but reknowned for its casting. Every available comic talent was thrown in the picture. This 1961 movie revived the careers of old vaudevillians and silent movie stars. It couldn't revive the careers of golden age television acts like Milton Berle and Sid Caesar, but provided a boost into surf movies for both. 

The movie won an Oscar for sound editing and I got to tell you the incidental music just pulls you into each scene. The plot you can read here, but what is important with a chase plot is that everyone is going to be on their worst behavior. It helps if they start out miserable, which, being Americans, they all are. So of course there will be betrayal and abandonment, theft and deceit, property damage, and eventually assault and battery.

It did well at the box office and a sequel was planned but never happened. There have been refashioned remakes, but none as successful. Perhaps the best of the bunch was Rat Race, which scored about the same as IAMMMMW in reviews.

I think it's time for a remake but I would cast it with basically no white people.  Maybe if Adam Sandler helps produce it, he can be the one white guy (in the Jerry Lewis part, naturally) but otherwise no crackers.

What's our cast? There's an insane amount of talent to choose from blacks, latins, asians,etc.. What would be weird is to cast according to world statistics, so there'd be a lot of Chinese and Indians in the pic, but nah.

Like any casting director, I am aiming for specific talent, like say, Denzel Washington in Spencer Tracy's role, or Keenan Thompson replacing Jonathan Winters.

It doens't have to be black people but I think if the movie is a chase action movie with comedic elements, I think it would work quite well with this demographic.

I am also open to casting all adult performers (porn stars) in a remake. Why not?

Thursday, June 12, 2025

Update on my degenerated lumbar spine

Sam Altman of OpenAI has put out some whoppers on energy and water use of his AIs. Perhaps even hallucinated the source of his unsourced figures. Still, he claims one-fifteenth of a teaspoon of water is used for the average query, and only .34 watt hour of energy. "The price of inteligence will soon be the same as the price of electricity". (That's not intelligence, honey bunny, it's an 80s style expert system running on stuff that can finally handle it. But the quote is also to mean AI will become as invisible as electricity, if that is a good thing).

Narrow AI tasks are tremendously successful and centaurs (people armed with AI) are beating the pants out of physics problems. Literally brute forcing their way though sample spaces like a slimemold to find the optimum stuff (ala Hollander's evolutionary algorithms from the 90s). Coming up with solutions that are hard for our little pink brains to figure out. Superintelligence? Only in the sense that Nature is superintelligent.

Keep in mind these LLMs and machine learning algorithms and neural nets and what have you are all reverse engineered from brains because we couldn't figure out how to build a mechanical brain. So we scraped our biology knowledge base and in turn replicated what the bots do, statistical inference, to approach brain. 

But one human brain makes AI run on GPUs look like poop in terms of performance efficiency. The human brain runs on 20 watts, a dim incandescent bulb, that can process an exaflop: 10 to the 18 mathematical operations per secomd. So there!

Anyway I got the neurosurgeon to look at my back today. I set up the appointment in March. Damn our healthcare system is broken. It seems I'm not the only who notices getting specialist care is harder and harder to get. This feels like the socialized medicine horror stories conservatives tell of social democracies, but of course this is the privatized version which is even worse. 

Anyway, no surgery. If I need to I can get the injection to reduce inflammation but the plan is to continue with the physical therapy exercises I have learned. I'm fine with that. I asked if I could ever get the pain down to zero and the doc was not optimistic. On the other hand, he said I was young and fit, despite the arthritic lumbar spine and stenosis, there was no need for surgery. Young and fit? I'm 68. I know, he said. Well, he has a point, but I wonder if he is biased? Compared to his other elderly patients, I looked like Superman. Fat old Superman.

I don't look 68. Stay out of the sun, kids. And the past athletic performance reviews I've had at the college gym? Rated me from excellent to superior (for my age). I decided a long time ago, looking at all my decrepit relatives, that I didn't want to be an invalid when I was elderly. Stay active. So far, so good. I guess this is just part of getting old, gettng used to the mileage.Get used to the pain, the constant burning pain in the legs. Weird thing is, I have had brief moments of zero pain, and those are good enough because I'm used to the pain. But moments of less pain are almost as good as zero pain. 

It makes me wonder if I have a berserker gene, if such a thing exists. We Kurmans do seem to be able to take hits, major big hits, so you got to wonder what is in the genertics of haplogroup I-1A, the Northern Barbarian, is more inured to pain? Inbreed enough and maybe. 

Anyway, I am doomed to eternal excercise for the rest of my life. That's fine.

Oh yeah, the art show. That was my public transportation adventure and the gallery is in Bucktown.

Mark and his wife Terry (or is it Terri? regardless she's vivacious) visited and were a welcome addition to the opening. I knew maybe two other people and I am not good at interacting with strangers. 

Thank goodness Mark's brother CJ showed up with them. I was substantially less awkward. We went to a Thai place, they bid goodbye, I took the train home. 

Thursday, May 29, 2025

Grandma and Grandpa Land

The neighborhood south of my shitbox apartment is where I go for walks and rambles. I have a main route but go all over. I realized I have a fifteen year perspective on this couple of square miles. Most houses were built in the 1960-70s and almost all are two story (what I could call as a boy a rich people house two stories!) and so the neighborhood was solid grandma and grandpa land when I first looked around it. A neighborhood that was affluent to begin with and more important kept its trees.

In the 2012 election almost every yard had a Romney sign. One grandpa house had no sign but a yellow snake flag before the taller pole for Old Glory. (He had another pole for the state flag, but then eventually it was some weird Christian flag) The pole arrangment was perched in an immaculate yard, with yard art for the missus. In 2016, that old grandpa house had a Trump sign, one of only two houses in the neighborhood. The rest of the houses had no sign, or a smattering of Clinton signs. In 2020, a lot of Biden signs.

Stop there for a moment. The occupants changed, grandma and grandpa either dying off or downsizing or moving to Florida, a younger demographic of families moved in. Going about day to day I didn't notice, but from fifteen years altitude, yeah, all the play equipment in yards, not ot mention the kids who rarely were out of doors. The neighborhood got more electric vehicles. The old ICE rumble was replaced by the whine of the electric motor. Solar panels sprouted on roofs. Zero teardowns among the house sales, but quite a lot of additions. One house in particular insisted on looking like a hideous modern Jersey mob decor. Regardless, the neighborhood got bluer.

In 2020, not every house had a Biden sign, many had no sign. Immaculate Grandpa had a Trump sign and a Trump flag. In 2024, practically every house had a Harris sign. Two houses had Trump signs. Immaculate Grandpa was dead. They had an estate sale and sadly they bought cheap. Oh well. At least the lawn and garden always looked first rate.

Oh yeah I got accepted in a show. I got two pieces in.

Happy Family

While You Were Out
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The show is titled Chimera which is perfect for me as that is all I ever make. Chimeras. One person looked at my work and said there all just jokes aren't they? I said a joke is a chimera, starts out with a wolf head  or something and ends up the tail of a jackass.

Monday, May 19, 2025

Cardassian Dad


Star Trek geek time so stop reading if you ain't a geek. Star Trek Deep Space Nine had some of the best characters in the franchise.It also had some of the worst and most well written episodes. The series turned into a big smoking turd once they went to war, but that is to be expected. War confines stories.

Nevertheless there were some good war episodes and a two parter involved Cardassian former spy Garak hooking up with his dad, Enebran Tain. Paul Dooley (still alive, 97, yay) played Enebran Tain. Paul Dooley, if you look at his filmography played a preponderence of dad parts.

Of course Paul Dooley would be Cardassian Dad.

Thursday, April 24, 2025

Ye Olde Ape


I live in a universe of pain. Xray and MRI results are in and I have an arthritic lumbar spine with stenosis. We inbred Scandinavaians do seem to have the cute little buns and the narrow spinal canal. 

Its arthritis of the spine. I'm old. I'lm 67.943 years as I type this. Happy Birthday and thank you for wishing me that, next month. 68. So yes I am an old ape living in a universe of pain. Self medication helps somewhat. Weed and booze,but you can't do that and work a job. So, I get to the pain doctor. They are more than willing to give me an epidural and I'm like, pass, Send me back to PT.

Physical therapy was turning from torture into almost exercise and I know we were getting somewhere. My doctors put a hold on out of caution in case my back was too fucked up. The x-ray was this guy is a cripple how is he doing anything? The secret is the inbred part that fucked up the spine also was part and parcel for being a viking. Bred to take punishment in a grey and cold maritime climate with lots of rowing and running. 

So, I got months of rehab and it better than drugs. I have gone from 232 lbs in 12/24 to 212 lbs in 4/25. I need to be no more than 204. that 204 pounder has no overhang belly. That's where I need to be for the rest of my life. So I guess if I want to live, I have to stay healthy from now on.