Monday, May 27, 2024

Kitty, I Farted

Hello Loves

In France, ChatGPT is phonetically similar to Chat, Je pete, which means female cat (kitty), I farted. New programs are worrying over jobs being replaced by kitty, I farted. 

Appropriate seeing as AI is a gas bubble. I and many others called it. The bubble won't pop until the ruling class gets their money back and unloads on the suckers. It's not going well, with Google turning into Trump, more or less advising them to drink bleach. The hallucinations will continue until we fix it, goes the publicity, so we will slap "experimental" on it.

The tech is unimportant. Or rather, the tech is important, but the business I slap onto it liek a parasite is not. Take the jet pack, the equivalent of the vaunted flying car, but for real. Turns out it was only the one jetpack all along, in all the movies, TV shows and commercials. The inventor flogged that deadly thing wherever he could. But it had inadequate tech to be other than a stunt. The minute you think of the entire American economy as a carnival, the less of a chump you are. 

Jet packs. Flying cars. Self driving cars.  Bitcoin. NFTs. AI, step right up and win a prize.  

It seems the only way to make money nowadays is fraud, but that's capitalism. Force and fraud is the salient of capitalism. The only reason it works is a thing called science. That's where the material progress comes from, the Great Acceleration we are experiencing that is undeniable. An acceleration that now threatens to eat the world.

I know such a statement is exaggeration. We humans may experience a Soylent Green collapse of the good times, but the planet won't give a shit. The quadrillions will out last our mere billions.

On that note of mortality, my current situation is now blood pressure. Eyeball is also continued fucked up, which I now realize is for the rest of my life. Each decade has tried to kill me, and my 7th secade may go the Kurman family tradition of stroke or heart attack. Given I've also inherited my maternal grandfather's weird head pressure problems. If I can sail through this , I'll hit 85, otherwise, my 18 year plan becomes my 7 year plan.

Regardless, my death will be glorious.

Wednesday, April 10, 2024

A Foundation of Joy

Two years and I've lost count of how many times my eye has been operated on, either beating the fuck out  of the tumor, or reattaching that slippery eel of a retina of mine. 



Maybe 8? 9? times? A lot of needles in the eye, way too often to make my mother cry.

The last surgery in March was supposed to be the last surgery, but the bottom quarter of my retina decided to go wandering, not unlike the way doctors thought a woman's uterus would wander around her body and make her hysterical, and have to be brought back under control with the use of bad smells, thus smelling salts.

So the doc fixed it yesterday, and here I am. Abiding by the grim northern version of machismo, I suffered in silence without having to, but hey, I don't know, can you call it brave? At this point no, just endurance. Patient plodding andjust keep going.

I was supposed to stay home today, but I got bored and went into teach at the college. Apparently that made me a badass. Giving demos like a patch eye pirate. Well, I am a Viking. I know that because when I brag, its always about stealing something.

All vision is gone now in the right eye. The doc was diappointed and I consoled him. Hey you saved the eye. Again. Can't win em all. 

Not feeling sorry for myself. My stage of grief for my beloved right eye is now at acceptance. Acceptance, as in surrenduring to pain, the joy of life shines through. If this is a biological adaptation, beyond mere pleasure or pain,, then nice. Makes sense that enjoying a universe is of evolutionary advantage. I'll call it joy. The joy of being fucking great to be alive. 

And keeping the eye. 

Tuesday, March 26, 2024

A City On Mars

I think one of the reasons Boomers, Gen X, and Millennials are so pissed off is we were promised adventures in space that we never got. We were ripped off in our most hopeful aspiration along with all the other stuff that seems to turn to shit around us.

Short term, at least. But is that true long term?

Consider: if we set off every existing nuclear warhead all at once - in the worst possible way, some 4 gigatons of ground bursts - the resulting Earth, cold and poisonous, would still be better than any other place in the solar system. If somehow humanity made a comeback, and got a mangled Earth back to some semblence of our current pretty sweet environment, it would still cost way, way less than terraforming Mars.

A City on Mars is a book about all of what it takes to establish a permanent off-world human presence. The authors, space horny like me, talk to the experts, and get bummed out how Not Ready we are, but a hopeful consensus is Go Big or Stay Home

Go big also means go long; timewise. Go deep; as in research and experments on contained ecology and repair here on Earth. Go broad; figure out how to repair Earth systems before worrying about space.

But we are not ready. Forget about living up there, its the getting up there that is still a problem. Chemical rockets are not enough. You send cripples and corpses on a 2 year voyage to Mars with our best, which is Starship, if it were working, which it ain't. And the Earth to LEO dollar numbers (99% of your cost for your ticket to the solar system) are just not there. Reusable Starship and booster, Elon Musk figures down to $10 a kilo, from the Bullshit Cinematic Universe he inhabits. Without nukes, you'll never get less than $1-2 grand a kilo. Elon don't care. All SpaceX has to do is crank rockets out like sausages, plus network effects even better if SpaceX offers franchises to manufacturers to crank out those sausages.

No darlings, Elon wants the orbits, and he's getting them with a third of all active satellites being Starlink. Elon is Elon, and if someone comes up with a fusion rocket, his ass is saved. Otherwise, he must realize that 99% of existential disasters are exta-solar. That "carrying the light of consciousness" bullshit is just that.

On Earth, geology gets cranky and the Sun shoots deadly farts at us, but we live on with free air, water, a radiation shield (free!), a stable and realtively pleasant if not downright gorgeous environment. Surprise! we can start doing that right here right now!

So what is space for? Science! Robots! Robots throughout the solar system. I did a term paper on robot farms back in college and  it was not promising. von Neumann self replicating machines look good on paper, suck on the Moon.  Even today, with solar powered AI on the Moon's Peaks of Permanent Sunrise, stinky humans would do better.

Besides, the majority of people don't give a fuck about space.

Everybody loves plucky space robots, though. That's the angle. Like Voyager 1, an old gobber, trying to Phone Home. That is where the sentiment is, so throw monies at that. Put in a dollar for an old interstellar robot? Change jar for the good robots in your market store. 

Who knows? 2060, way past my dead time, might be pretty fucking sweet.

Wednesday, March 20, 2024

Non-exciting update, I promise


Little by little I am getting ready for mass production of the turtle. I could send the shape to a aerodynamic analytic bot and it would say A-OK. If it looks good it will fly.

The 3D print negative mold for a silicone rubber positive mold is a dream. Plaster molds almost demold themselves. What a happy material partnetship I've found.

Silicone rubber is fun stuff actually. I honestly can't praise it enough. Such fidelity!

On a reality note, hopefully my last eye operation to save this valiant brave eye. My right eye is thirty years older than me, and it shows, but I will have no secessions from my Union. Keeping the eye, godammit

Wednesday, March 6, 2024

You Should be Afraid of Your Government

The more I complain about not wanting to do anything, the more shit I end up doing. Imagine Frankenstein Happy. 

But that's not what I want to talk about. I'm reading A City On Mars and the topic that is screaming to me is infrastructure. Plenty of energy out there, same as here. Ah, but infrastructure, like we have on Earth? That costs a lot of money.

Not just money, lives, little bees what live in tomorrow's trees and make the honey money; us busy little creatures. How are you going to get a million people on Mars, like Elon Musk wants? (BTW, a viable Martian colony starts at 100 million people, assuming one person can wear two hats).

Material, wanted material, needs to be gathered and distilled same as down here. We have the same infrastructure problem as here, but you are doing it out there; in a Solar System with no free air, water, gravity, radiation shield, a microbial ecosystem of unknown benefactors?

The thing on Earth is the distilling and transport of materials -  since the Modern Age -  been energy cheap, but still material scarce. Or rather, the right kind of material. Before modern times, we were energy scarce but materially wealthy. Slaves extracted and distilled the material  from vast sources. Not so much now. And, what good is a ten million trillion dollar platinum asteroid? Except maybe as a threat to drop it on someone?

The infrastructure problem of space for space is just too big, because space is too big and spread out. You need big, huge infrastructure to do the job. The argument is but we will have so much energy. Yes, you'll need it. Even though E=mc2, you need infrastructure to do that. Big time, long term, and the only way that happens is to involve government. That should worry you. As I've argued before, governments are the AI we've been worrying about, and corporations more limited version of these monstrous.. monsters. 

The objective function of your government may not coincide with your comfort zone. Most educated US citizens are well aware of the horrific beastly shenanigans of our adolescent corporate self, a 360 million cell slime mold living on a globe of slime molds, each snarling and snapping at pseudopod limbs.

What to do about this big kaiju? Become a virus, I guess.


Friday, February 23, 2024

Peach Tree Dish


Working on weed pipe prototypes has not helped my fitness profile one bit.

I have moved into aeronautical surfaces and its a literal romulan space force of weed pipes you can get just by dial fiddling with unseen hyperparameters that my brain interprets as "looks good, feels good, smokes good". Like this pineapple cutie.


I got into a bad habit since the January polar vortex of not walking. I can feel the difference, back problems, knees hurting, sleep and concentration down.

So, in this gorgeous spring weather in February, I went for a walk. One the usuals routes at 2.5 miles.  Along this route is a playground, which I stop at to stretch and also use the equipment. I tried the monkeybars and nearly tore my arm out of its socket. How do little kids do that? They have my grip strength and don't weigh 225lbs. And are 64 years younger.

I think I'm out of shape. I know people around me, I find out, think I'm a viking and kind of scary, like fun scary I hope. I do the fitness exams and I rate excellent for my age. So why do I feel out of shape? Appearance? The image of our body from when we were 19. peak ape?

Well, how about not being able to use the monkeybars? I really should change my workout from bed rotting to actually working out. 


I saw an article about reversed aging in mice, turned back the clock from 80 to 20. Affordable whole body rejuvenation. If true, you should be terrified.

Immortal slaves of an objective function.

Speaking of which, ChatGPT went berserker for a little bit, just a little bit. What would you expect? 95% of content is bot generated and scraped back in like fish eating chiken poop. I got some eggs, hard boiled them. When I cracked them they smelled like shit. I threw the carton away, but wondered if this was spoilage or the chicken were being fed pig shit.

Chat GPT ladies and gentlemen

Friday, February 2, 2024

Texas cannot secede.


Why pick on Texas? Because they are the whiniest bitches of all the Fifty Nifty States.

I don't know who needs to hear it, but this article from the Texas Tribune spells out why Texas cannot secede. There is going to be no fucking divorce; we are stuck with each other. Libtards and commies get to live in the USA same as everybody else. And like Hotel California, you can never leave.

As a matter of tact we should have been expanding, and would have, if werent for the brown problem. Hawaii and Alaska made whyte people go "heennnghh, I don't know".

(As a sidebar, I am a Gatekeeper of whyte people. Viking on all sides. Inbred as fuck. Lots of people think they are whyte but they are just white*

*white: white people were invented 7,000 years ago, that being the trifecta of  least melanized in skin, eyes, hair. Parallel evolution have produced one or the other, but not all three in the whyte walkers)