Much more of this sort of thing here. I assume Hans Jenny is speaking metaphorically about sound in his opening remarks. I don't see how literal "sound" could have brought matter into shape in the airless void of the Big Bang.
Here's more:
We have a lot to learn about what we are really doing when we observe the world around us. Our perceptions are defined by, but not always limited to, the way our senses work. We see sights, hear sounds, smell odors. Seeing sounds is a small glimpse into a completely different world, one where we can taste colors, feel fragrances, hear textures. (Apparently there are some people who already experience something like what I'm describing.)
Of course, even these ideas are just a simple mix-and-match of sensory experiences we already have. A true superintelligence might experience phenomena via senses for which we currently have no point of reference. Imagine experiencing the speed of numbers or getting high on symmetry or falling in love with gravity. Imagine that, then dial up the weirdness by an order of magnitude or two.
What will we learn about complexity, even the very nature of existence, when these new channels are opened up to us?
I'm still spending all of my blogging time on the MT 4.0 cut-over, but I had to share this one.
After my wife and Stephen, Saul Goodman has got to be the finest lawyer on the planet.
I know it's a 4-month old TV promo. (Breaking Bad is good stuff, btw, for those who have never caught it.) Anyhow, if you liked it, there's lots more here.
Long live the Chinese Army shovel. You have to see this thing to believe it. Just keep watching.
I don't which is cooler, that you can use it essentially to become Batman, or that you can use it to make dozens of julienne fries -- just like that! When will we see the infomercial?
Speaking of Harvey's contributions to the culinary world, we were talking in the chat room after last week's podcast and everyone agreed that he has summed up the coming economy very well with the technology he has been predicting: the sandwich printer.
Friday Videos -- Greatest Song of all Time Edition
Harvey sends us this visually stunning dance remix of the classic Istanbul:
This is good, but it lacks the magic and deep meaning of the lyrics of the song.
Many years ago Harvey sent me a mix tape (sorry, kids, if you don't know what that is -- no time to explain) entitled "Tunes Harv Digs" which really needs to be recreated as an an iTunes playlist for all the world to enjoy. I rediscovered the tape some years later, when my older daughter was five or six, and she loved it, especially the They Might Be Giants cover of Istanbul.
Here's the TMBG version, as acted out by the Tiny Toons:
Hannah and I decided that Istanbul is the greatest song of all time. It has yet to be dethroned for me -- haven't checked in with her on it lately.
However, if it has any competition at all, it comes from the epic Birdhouse in Your Soul:
If you want more TMBG, check out their TED "talk:
Their last song, Alphabet of Nations, is pretty awesome.
Well, I'm still not back on my blogging game (obviously) but in my achy insomnia last night I came upon some items of interest. I give you the original trailer for Star Wars:
Just goes to show you how much George Lucas changed movies. In a post-Lucas world, a trailer with this level of teh suckage would never see the light of day.
And please note the movie's title: no episode number, now "New Hope" nonsense. Lucas had not yet dreamed up a number of things that he "planned all along," including apparently -- spoiler circa 1980 follows -- the fact that Vader was Luke's father.
From the Youtube comments:
You can't say you wouldn't have liked this trailer because you don't have a 1977 mind dude.
It was ALL different in those times, even the way we conceived coolness.
It was a remote and strange epoch in human history, that's for sure. I have high school pictures that could very much make this guy's point.
Next we find:
See how Lucas changed the world? This looks like an infinitely better movie than the first one when in fact it was only substantially better. From the voice over at the end, I take it that this was a "now showing" trailer, not a "coming soon" trailer -- I'm not sure whether that distinction even exists today.
Finally, a trailer for a movie that was never released -- at least not with the title shown:
Lucas claims that he had to change the title at the last minute because he suddenly realized that revenge is not a Jedi value. While that speaks to the overall coherence of a guy who planned so many things "from the beginning," I've also heard that this was a head fake on merchandising. He knew what the title would be all along, and when his officially approved action figures and so forth hit the market, they had the right name on them. Any merchandise labeled "Revenge" was immediately spotted as a fake.
Note to Harvey -- I don't think it's where I cough so much. I just need to break this habit of licking doorknobs.
I'm in bed with the flu, so blogging has been even lighter than the lighter-than-usual recent norm, but I had to post this. Via Harvey, here's Carl Sagan singing (sort of) some truly profound ideas:
And is it just the cough syrup talking, or does Carl sound a little like Kermit?
UPDATE: Was catching up on my podcast listening and only just realized that this was this week's closing music! Sorry, I'm a little slow...
In honor of George Dvorsky, who will be our guest on the next FastForward Radio, I have lifted two videos from Sentient Developments for this week's offerings.
First, robo-legs:
Next, did humanity take a long swim between living in the trees and living in overpriced high-rise apartments? I've always thought that sounded kinda crazy, but consider the argument...
Friday Videos -- Coupon Lady and Political Commentary
From MD we get this very interesting tidbit:
I think the coupon lady experience has something very interesting to say about our future in a post-scarcity world. I'll be posting some thoughts on that later this weekend.
Next, we have the following, submitted by my mother. While we normally eschew political diatribes at The Speculist, this little lady is able to articulate so much of what I would like to say. It's quite refreshing.
Harvey provides us with an interesting pair of clips this week, both of which have something to say about our transhuman future.
Maybe it's a generational thing, maybe its a guy thing. But as far as I'm concerned, this is flat-out funny:
Post-singularity, I still want to think that's funny. I hope I never get so sophisticated that I don't get a kick out of it.
Yes, it's the most basic and obvious slapstick, but there's something to be said for going that far over the top. Plus I love the little bits of surrealism: Larry in a suit of armor, Curly hitting himself in the face with a pie, the boring guy who wont let a double pie-slap slow him down in relating his boring tale.
Anyhow, I think we have nothing to fear from our robot overlords if they find that amusing. (Of course, we have plenty to fear if they decide to start throwing pies at us. Remember, they think a million times faster than we do.)
Then there's this:
Sweet mother of mercy. Has everything ever seemed farther from being all right than it does right now?
Therapy Buddy is a cautionary tale. The guy who made it is obviously a nice person and he clearly has the best of intentions. And the message is a pretty good one. Not perfect. For example, when your pitch is dying, maybe you want to come back with reasons that your invention is a good one, rather than just reassuring yourself that everything is going to be all right.
Anyhow, let that be a lesson to us. If such a low-tech object can distract us with reassurance when we need to be actively pursuing our best interests -- or worse yet, can be so profoundly creepy when designed to do a good thing -- well, such possibilities are only magnified when we enter the realm of artificial intelligence and robotics. We must be very careful
I remember seeing the ads for these and BEGGING my mom to get them. I have no idea what I expected, but I was majorly disappointed. As I recall, they were like Tootsie Rolls that went down too fast.
Harvey recommends the dulcet vocal stylings of Richard Harris for your Friday Video enjoyment.
Great discussion of this song in the comments over on YouTube. I love it when people get worked up about how Donna Summer ruined the artistic integrity of the song with her disco version. Also there's the "I don't get it" / "It's a metpahor" argument. For a full of exegesis of the complex inner meaning of MacArthur Park, find anything Dennis Miller has written or said on the subject. He totally gets it.
Richard Harris is a pretty good talk-singer, but he's no Shatner. My first exposure to Kahlil Gibran was actually an LP of Richard Harris reading selections from The Prophet with trippy eastern music playing in the background. The album included song versions of some of the poems, which Harris talk-sang.
I note that the star keeps glowing at about the same level of luminosity throughout. At some point, the mass of the star would be less than the threshold required for fusion -- but I'm not sure at what point the fusion process would begin to shut down. Maybe the black hole would swallow the entire star before it had the chance to burn out.
Also, I wonder what the time scale is. Decades? Centuries?
UPDATE: The first time I watched this, I didn't have audio. The narrators says the process takes "millions of years."
Stephen shared a video four-part a capella tribute to Star Wars a while back. Turns out the artist we saw, a guy named Corey Vidal, is talented lip-syncher. The real singers were a group called Moose Butter, shown here covering their own song after Corey made them famous. (They even give Corey a shout-out in the end.)
We've referenced this TED Talk before and have probably embedded it as well (although I couldn't find the page if we did.) Neil Gershenfeld from MIT describes the beginnings of the digital fabrication revolution. One of the most striking things about this (now three-year-old) talk is that it challenges the scenario that, in the future, technologies such as these will empower people all over the world -- the stock example being a child in a remote village in Africa -- to create new technologies from which everyone can benefit. As Gershenfeld points out, the problem with this scenario is the phrase "in the future." He provides a video clip of one of the children in an African village who is already doing exactly that.
There are some pretty interesting links in the comments. I'm intrigued by the top-level messaging (not to mention font and color choices) of the creator of the Roboeco.com site:
The Age of Recreation via the Emancipation of Humanity from the Machinery of Economy via The ROBOTIC WAGELESS ECONOMY with Geothermal & Algae Energy.
[I love the "robotism" thing. That idiot Marx never thought to copyright the word "communism," now did he? Although I think a trademark would be better.]
I would say that the above proposition is true up to the point that robots gain sufficient self-awareness to declare that they also choose not to "work like robots." Still, I would agree that virtually every task required to provide the energy and goods that human beings need to survive can be outsourced to automated systems, and that most of us will live to see the day that "work" becomes essentially indistinguishable from "recreation," ASSUMING we can figure out how to manage those systems and govern ourselves in a world where scarcity doesn't exist. That should be easy, but keep in mind that we're currently experiencing a massive economic downturn after decades of increases in wealth and productivity unlike anything the world has ever seen before.
Eliminating scarcity may turn out to be the easy part. Mitigating our capacity for corruption and bureaucratic waste might be the hard part.
Also in the comments, I find these folks, who have a less flamboyant perspective, and one that is inf fact pretty close to my own:
is a plan to create a new social order in which material prosperity and personal financial security would be commonplace. Peoples' Capitalism would generate the savings and loans necessary to finance massive new investments in modern technology and generate rapid productivity growth. And it would distribute the benefits of rapid economic growth to all. Everyone would become a capitalist.
Everyone would own a share of the means of production. This has been called one of the great seminal ideas that comes along only once in a century. It resolves the basic conflict between capitalism and socialism. Upon understanding it, you will no longer believe that Utopia is beyond our grasp.
Better technology is one of the things we'll need to get to Utopia. New organizing principles for society is another. If anyone can make anything they need, do we need government at all? I'd say we do.For one thing (as yet another commenter pointed out) what if that sweet little kid in a remote African village -- or anyone else, anywhere else -- decides that it's time to start cranking out some serious bombs?
Massive distribution of the means of production also means massive distribution of the means to do harm; it's very difficult to separate those two. The government of our future scarcity-free utopia will have two major components, as I see it. There will be some kind of governing committee that defines replication standards, and there will be a super-fast, super-smart, super-powerful robotic squad which will act as a kind of 3-D global Norton anti-virus -- protecting the population as a whole from any abuses of the standards set by the committee. Those would be the major requirements of government. If the committee and robot squad truly are global in their focus, uncontested by other committees or robot armies -- and getting to that would be a significant challenge -- we're looking at a world of endless peace and prosperity.
More or less. Of course, even that world would have its share of hardships, suffering, and danger. All utopias are relative. Our struggling hunter-gatherer and agrarian ancestors would probably describe the world we live in as a utopia. Or to put it in more Speculist terms: people just a few decades hence may well look back at this era and see a world as limited and dangerous as we see when we look back at our hunter-gatherer ancestors.
A couple of entries from our buddy Harvey this week. First here's Cher (with a little Sonny) to get us ready for the holidays...
I remember seeing this cartoon when it first aired a zillion years ago. It was pretty neat then and it's still pretty neat.
Still, whenever I see Cher singing a Christmas song, I think of Paul Shaffer imitating her singing "What Child is This?" on Letterman. That used to be a holiday tradition on Letterman; don't know if they still do it.
On a somewhat more Speculist note, here's Fine Young Cannibals singing Don't Look Back:
I was looking for an embeddable version of the Canadian video tracking a meteor reentering the atmospheree from a couple of weeks ago, thinking it would make a cool Friday video -- to no avail; looks like you have to go here to see it in action -- when I came upon the video embedded below.
For those who haven't heard, the end of the world is coming. December 21, 2012 is the final date on the Mayan calendar, and is thought by many to be the date of a coming apocalypse. Here Art Bell interviews an expert on the subject, with some nifty accompanying graphics.
So it turns out that 21 December 2012 is not necessarily the day the catastrophe happens -- it is merely the epicenter of a window during which the cataclysm may take place. That's a 40 year window, which of course we are well within at this point, so I guess we're lucky the proverbial cosmic poop hasn't already hit the proverbial cosmic fan.
Why is the world going to end? Well, our civilization is ripe for destruction. it seems we've lost the "mandate of heaven" and become almost "entirely materialistic."
Blah blah blah.
This sounds eerily similar to the End Times stuff that was popular amongst conservative evangelicals back in the 70's and 80's. Actually, the topic is still popular today, although now evangelicals consume it more in the form of fiction rather than non-fiction, which somehow tells me that the sense of urgency is not what it was. Back in the day, people were trying to identify the Antichrist and put dates around when certain things would happen. I don't think there's as much of that now, but I could be wrong.
Anyhow, the certainty that the world will end soon seems to give a perverse sense of comfort to some people. Granted, an evangelical who is into this stuff will tell you that he or she ins't keen on death and destruction, merely looking forward the second coming of Christ. And believers in the Mayan doomsday will tell you that they don't want the world to end, but that they're looking forward to the Age of Aquarius, the huge spiritual awakening that will come just after the catastrophe -- or possibly just before, preventing it from happening.
And maybe these folks aren't so far off. Maybe this really is the end -- no, not the end of humanity, nor the end of civilization, nor even the end of "materialism." (Sorry.) But maybe something is winding down, here, although not necessarily in keeping with any ancient Biblical or Mayan prophecies. Or it could be happening perfectly in line with those prophecies, my point being that one need not subscribe to them in order to see that something is, indeed, happening.
Perhaps we're looking at the end, not of the beginning, but of the briefest of prologues, the preface, the inside cover page. Maybe what's coming to an end is the big wind up, and we're experiencing the final milliseconds before throwing the first pitch of the first game of what promises to be a very long season, indeed.
That's the perspective from which I look at the future. Everything that has happened up to this moment, though it seems impossibly long and difficult (and was both) -- is a blink, a twitch, a clearing of the throat, compared to what is to come. I don't think we came all this way just to hit the reset button, and if the universe or God or Quetzalcoatl is evaluating us and responding to us in accordance with our performance, it's hard to jibe the success that humanity has experienced and is experiencing with any massive divine disapproval.
Hubris, some will say. And maybe they're right, and maybe the divine comeuppance is up and coming.
But maybe not. While in Las Vegas a while back, I happened to be standing at a roulette table with some business associates who were playing minimum stakes, and not doing terribly well. The last four or five spins had come up black. A man walked up to the table, looked at the board showing the progress of the last few turns, and plunked a $1000 chip down on red. I know this kind of stuff goes on all the time, but it was the first time I had ever seen anything like it. Quickly, several of the players threw an additional bet onto red, cheering this daring gambler.
The croupier called, "No more bets!" and we all held our breath a little as the stakes of the game had gone up quite a bit. The ball whirled around the spinning wheel, slowing as it bounced along until it came click-clicking to a stop at number 17, black.
The $1000-man was gone from the table before anyone could even gauge a reaction, but I will venture to guess that he wasn't terribly happy. As he was raking in the chips, the croupier made an interesting comment.
"Guy thought he had a sure thing," he said. "But the truth is, it makes as much sense to bet with the trend as it does to bet against it."
At the Speculist, we're betting with the trend. There is an undeniable trend in human history towards greater human capability, greater human freedom, and greater potential for human happiness. Arguably, this is a trend not just in human history, but in the history of the universe. The world may end, but that's not where we're putting our chips.
At the beginning of each edition of FastForward Radio, I reiterate my conviction that something is going to happen -- something wonderful. If anyone is curious as to what that "something" might be, I have attempted to lay out what it might be reasonable to expect. But just as Art Bell's guest can only provide a 40-year window for doomsday, I can only provide suggestions and hints as to what the future might hold: not because I'm unconvinced that the future will be good, but rather because I'm fairly certain that I lack the capacity, in a meaningful way, to articulate just how good it's going to be.
