Universalul "Om"

Cand ne uitam la un cadavru, am putea sa vedem in el un vas reciclabil care, pentru o foarte scurta perioada de timp, a fost umplut de un sistem genetic foarte complex. Prin intermediul acestui om "universal", conceptul universal de "om" a facut un mic, moderat sau mare pas inainte.. relativ. 
La invel ideologic, acelasi cadavru poate fi vazut ca un agent dezactivat, un soldat cazut in lupta pentru avansarea unui anumit sistem filosofic ce a avansat si el in functie de abilitatea agentului de a-l promova.
Aceste sisteme (atat genetice cat si ideologice) isi vor continua evolutia prin intermediul altor si altor agenti si al altor si altor soldati, de care sistemele se vor folosi si descotorosi in cursa lor catre suprematie.  

Fun Killer

It is dark, Stewart is driving slowly, holding the wheel with his left hand while gently pressing his wife's hand on his right knee. The headlights can barely penetrate a few meters through the thick curtain of rain. 

"We'll be there in no time, darling" he says while looking at her and squinting as though he couldn't recognise her. 

"I just think that it's very unlikely that Timmy broke your glasses, Stu.. he's such a good boy"

"Well, he's definitely being spoiled as one.. All I know is that he likes playing with the hammer" he says and starts laughing. 

"Anyway, my sister did offer their guest room, I don't know why you insisted on leaving tonight. We could have bought some contact lenses for you.." 

"You know I can't wear those things.. Besides, your sister was only bluffing. She knew about my job interview at 10 A.M.. I can't risk the morning traffic. After so many years with this bloody company, I could finally get a promotion." 

"I just hope that we won't miss any turns in this storm"

"Don't worry, Clare. I'm driving slowly and I am not completely blind, you know.." 

"Not far from it either, Stu.. what we're doing is a bit reckless ". 

He takes his hand away from hers, places it back on the steering wheel and accelerates.  

"Well, Clare.. I wouldn't have had to drive tonight if it wasn't for you, now would I?" 

The tone of his voice was calm, almost kind. The contrast between his words and his attitude irritated Clare, who also took her hand away from his knee and replied with a raised tone of voice:

"Well, finish your thought, what exactly do you blame me for?" 
Stewart continued in the same manner:

"Oh, nothing much.. just for the fact that you insisted on coming to your sister's midweek wedding- anniversary party, that you refuse to get your driver's licence.. What else? Hmm.. It also pisses me off that you cover for that nephew of yours, whom I definitely saw playing with a hammer just minutes before my glasses apparently fell on the floor and broke."

"Well, it could have been something else.. Maybe they did fall and someone just accidentally stepped on them"

"The curious thing is that the lenses were broken exactly as though they had been hit with a metal tool.. oh, I don't know, maybe a hammer? I would have believed your sister if she had said that, I don't know,  maybe the dog chewed them up... Was she concerned that I would ask her to pay for them?"

They were both silent for the next few minutes and the storm also seemed to quiet down. Behind them, the lightnings were still illuminating the sky every now and then, but the rain had almost stopped and Stewart set the windshield wipers to perform only slow wipes. 

"See, we've almost made it. It wasn't so bad, was it!?" he said and placed his right hand on her knee again. 

She quickly brushed his hand away and looked outside the window. 

Stewart put his hand back on the steering wheel and accelerated, as he always did, when Clare would annoy him. 

He was about to say something, when his wife started shouting "stop, stop, sstooop" 

He pushed the brakes and they started drifting left and right; while he was trying to stabilise the car, she put her hand back on his knee and squeezed it tight. 

When they finally came to a stop, he could only see the blurry shape of man who, thanks to Stewart's quick reaction, remained at a fairly safe distance. 

He was still waving both of his hands, as though they hadn't already stopped. 

Stewart was about to get out of the car, when Clare caught his arm and held him back.

"Oh my God, Stu, please be careful. Who knows who this is.." 

"Yeah, you're right. I'll just drive towards him and roll down the window to ask if he's ok." 

"Stu, I'm scared, can we please just drive pass him? He'll be fine, why doesn't he call someone? Like roadside assistance maybe?" 
"I'll just ask, don't worry"
Stewart drove slowly towards the man and when he got next to him, rolled down only the top part of his window. They both said "Hi" at almost the same time, but it was Stewart who asked first:

"Are you ok there, friend? What happened?" 

The stranger looked through the 2 inch gap that Stewart allowed between them and said:

"I'm stuck, my car just quit on me and my phone's also dead.. would you mind giving me a ride into town? "
Clare squeezed Stewart's knee and he immediately understood that she was very uncomfortable with the idea. He said to the stranger:  

"Just a minute, friend" and then rolled up the window.

As soon as he did, Clare said hurriedly, in a whispered voice:

"Don't even think about it, Stu. It's almost midnight. Call someone, but don't let him get in, please!"

Stewart rolled the window down a little lower this time and said:

"Look, friend, I am very sorry, but we can't give you a ride into town. I could call Roadside assistance for you.. is that ok?"

"Ok, I understand.. Could you please do it, as I said, my phone is dead"  

"Sure thing, friend. It's just that we need to get going, I will call them on the way for you, ok." 

Saying that, Stewart quickly rolled the window back up and started driving away. 

The stranger started running behind the car, shouting something at them, but Stewart accelerated and he only slowed down when the man was no longer in sight.

Clare took his hand and kissed it; she thanked him for "making the right decision under those circumstances"

A minute later, when he reached for his phone, Stewart realised that he hadn't taken enough details to properly inform the Roadside assistance of the stranded man. 

He explained to Clare that he had never called them before, so because of all the pressure he felt coming from her, he hadn't thought everything through.

Visibly annoyed, Clare responded:

"Ah, well, I'm sure someone else will stop and help him. Maybe someone more confident or.. I don't know, less vulnerable. Someone who can think on their feet."

Stewart accelerated again and didn't speak a word until they got home, where he took a quick shower and went to bed trying to ignore all that had bothered him during the day. His focus had to be on the next day's interview; nothing else!

He did not snooze the alarm, he got out of bed at 8:15, put on his best suit, his spare glasses, gave himself the best smile in the mirror and left the house at 9:20, hoping to make it to the office at least 20 minutes before his interview.

The traffic was a lot better than expected for a Thursday morning, so in the time that was left, he decided to get a coffee from the machine and smoke a cigarette in order to calm his nerves. They were bringing the new regional manager to participate in the selection process. Stewart didn't know much about him, except that he used to be an HR director and was known to have a very strict criteria of selection when it came to selecting the right person for the job. This made Stewart slightly more anxious about him being there than he would have liked to be..  

When Stewart entered the interview room, he was pleased to receive a very warm welcome from all three interviewers; he already knew the branch manager and the sales manager. As he was being introduced to the regional manager, the firm handshake and the friendly greeting was enough for him to relax and bring out the best version of himself. 

Sure enough, Stewart's expertise when being asked the most difficult technical questions had given him a clear advantage and after he had left the room, all three interviewers were of the opinion that he should get the job. He was informed that the job was his and after he thanked them all, he went straight to the coffee room, where a few colleagues congratulated him as well. 

As the regional manager walked in, Stewart was on the phone his wife, sharing the good news and he overheard him proposing that they should celebrate at their cabin. When he noticed the regional manager standing next to him, he told his wife that he had to go. 

"You've made quite an impression today, congratulations again!". He shook Stewart's hand and gave him a pat on his shoulder.

"Thank you, Mr Lewis, I'm really grateful for the opportunity"

"Oh, please call me Phil. I'd like us to have a very close cooperation. You see, I'm trying to expand our client network in the area and I'm sure that I could use someone with your experience." 

"Sure, I'd be happy to help, Phil"  

That week-end at their cabin, while Stewart was opening a bottle of champagne, Clare was busy looking for a specific CD on which she had saved her favourite playlist. 

The promotion had come with a substantial salary increase and Stewart was being very generous towards her, so she thought of rewarding him, trying to rekindle the passion that they once had. 

When Stewart walked into the bedroom with the champagne glasses, Clare was waiting for him on the bed, leaning on her elbow, wearing nothing but her underwear. 

She was also wearing his favourite perfume , there was music and candle lights and she was calling on him to come closer. 

Stewart put the glasses on the table and started walking towards her while doing some dance moves that she was very amused by.

 

Just then, the dog started barking outside and he wanted to ignore it, but the barks and the growls were getting louder and louder until a prolonged whine put an end to all the noise. 

Stewart was experiencing a simultaneous feeling of relief and alarm and he shushed Clare who looked terrified. 

He went to get his rifle which was hanging by the door and as soon as he did, there was a very loud knocking on the door which was followed by a familiar voice saying "Stewart, are you there"? 

Stewart took a couple of steps back pointing the gun at the door and asked: "Who is it? What do you want?" 

It's me, Phil" came the voice from outside.

Incredulous, Stewart looked at Clare and signalled that she should get under the blanket, which she did while asking him not to open with a very loud whispered voice. Stewart waved his hand dismissively as she hid under the blanket. 

When he opened the door, the regional manager, Phil Lewis was standing in front of him, looking very drunk.

"Stewart, dude. I'm endlessly sorry, but I saw the lights on and I thought I would impose on your hospitality.. I went to a stupid party in the area and I had too much to drink.. I can't drive all the way to town, if I get pulled over.. I'm so sorry"

Stewart, visibly annoyed, put the gun standing next to the door and said:

"Not the best time, Phil.. Did you hit the dog? Why was he whining?"

"Oh, no I just gave him some treats"
When Clare heard that, she knew that it had been a lie, as the dog would never take food from an intruder. She showed her head from under the blanket with the intention of exposing the lie but when she did, all she could say was : "Oh, my God!!!!" 

Before she could say anything else, Phil hit Stewart with his hammer over the head; he collapsed immediately and his blood started spilling onto the white, fluffy carpet. He then started walking towards Clare, who had crawled at the head of the bed, covering herself with a pillow. 

"Clare, Clare, Clare, what an unlucky turn of events, isn't it?" 

"It was you.. that night on the road. It was you!" 

"How the fuck did HE not recognize me?" Phil said, pointing at Stewart who was laying motionless on the floor. It almost made me laugh when he was boasting about his attention to detail.. or his risk assessment... " 

Clare started screaming louder and louder until her voice wouldn't help her anymore.

"Are you done?" Phil said, with a calm voice. "You see, this would have happened one way or another. Either in your car or here.. It was meant to be"

When he raised the hammer to hit Clare, a gun blast shocked Phil. He looked at his reddening chest and his hand remained suspended in the air. 

The hammer dropped and a couple of seconds later, Phil collapsed to the floor next to it. 

With his face all bloodied, Stewart walked over to the regional manager and shot him again. He then kicked the hammer as hard as he could, exclaiming: 

"I really hate these things!!!"       

Tara paduchilor

Intr-un sat de la poalele unui deal, alunecarile de teren fac sa se darame cateva case din zona afectata. Se constata ca taierea copacilor de pe deal fusese o idee proasta. Consiliul judetean, care semnase si contractul cu firma de exploatare forestiera, promite sa se implice in rezolvarea unor asemenea probleme pe viitor. Primarii tuturor satelor din judet, le impun satenilor sa semneze un contract cu o firma de asigurari. Indiferent de pozitia caselor pe care le detin, satenii trebuie sa fie asigurati impotriva alunecarilor de teren. "Avem o comunitate foarte bine sudata.. oricand poti sa te afli in vizita la cineva care are casa la poalele dealului si pac, esti tocana!"

Dupa cateva discutii mai aprinse, cei care se impotrivesc sunt numiti satanisti si reprezentatii asociatilor fermierilor din judet, in frunte cu preotul, decid ca asigurarea trebuie sa fie facuta impreuna cu rugaciunea, fiindca "Doamne fereste, cate se pot intampla".

Firma de asigurari face o inspectie in zonele afectate si decide ca toti satenii, pentru a fi protejati trebuie sa poarte neaparat casca. La magazin, la biserica, la sapa, la cosit, la birt, unde-o fi.. Se mai impotrivesc cativa, dar preotul organizeaza o campanie de vopsit cruci intoarse pe usile acestora si in curand, toate vocile care mai indraznesc sa spuna ceva, sunt unanime.

Dispar frizeriile si coafoarele, nu se mai vinde sampon, in schimb se deschid magazine care vand casti in diferite culori sau abtibilduri cu tot felul de mesaje care mai de care mai progresiste.

Tot mai multi copii si oameni cu capul mic, se impiedica de obstacole sau se izbesc de pereti din cauza castii care, fiind prea mare, le vine peste ochi.

O parte dintre satenii cu casca, continua sa-si construiasca case in zone cu risc ridicat de alunecari de teren, insa spre marea surprindere a acestora, unele dintre alunecari, inca le mai darama din case, chiar daca nu in intregime, iar daramaturile care le cad in cap, inca dor. Cazurile au fost putine, insa unora le-a fost rupt chiar gatul, cu toate ca purtau casca.. Firma de asigurari spune ca in aceste conditii nu poate sa reinnoiasca polita si propune sa fie purtata o a doua casca, cu curele mai lungi ca sa poata sa fie asezata deasupra celeilalte. Aceasta urmeaza sa fie o conditie irefutabila. Dupa un mini-vot formal, cei de la asigurari distribuie castile suplimentare prin intermediul firmei producatoare.

Dupa ce zonele defrisate sunt reimpadurite, casele afectate sunt reconstruite cu ajutorul fondurilor generoase ale comunitatii si dupa ce se constata ca nici doua casti nu sunt chiar super eficiente sub un tavan care are mai mult de 40 de kg, oamenii incep sa abandoneze casele de la poalele dealurilor, dar preotul spune ca la biserica nu se vine fara doua casti, brutarul nu vinde nici el fara, barmanu' nu-ti da nimic, bilet de tren nu-ti primesti. Prima firma de casti pentru bebelusi fusese numita "Prichindeal"

Valoarea de Post-Adevar

Am decis sa scriu acest text pentru a lansa o provocare intelectuala celor care sunt interesati, dar si pentru a-mi largi propria perspectiva cu ajutorul interactiunilor la care sper. 

As incepe cu o intrebare: Credeti ca traim deja intr-o era post-adevar, in care valoarea unei idei e direct proportionala cu popularitatea ei?
Sau ca adevarul exista doar daca e aprobat de constiinta?

Cum am aflat cu totii, omul modern care vrea sa socializeze si sa fie conectat la "realitate", trebuie sa proceseze informatiile intr-un ritm tot mai alert.  

Institutile care mediaza aceste informatii, stiu foarte bine cum sa le ambaleze in asa fel incat sa ne scoata din indiferenta si apatie.  Au reusit sa angreneze oamenii simpli in probleme globale. Cand zic oameni simpli, ma refer la cei care in general nu inteleg evenimentele din satul sau din blocul vecin, dar care sunt invitati sa discute despre ce-ar trebui sa faca marile puteri.
 
O alta conditie pentru a fi social acceptabil e sa-ti reglezi foarte rapid valorile, pentru a te plia pe noile realitati. Cei care petrec prea mult timp investigand un subiect, raman in urma cu celelalte. Creierul insusi a devenit o aplicatie care cere update-uri tot mai frecvente. Elon Musk cu al lui Neuralink o sa ocupe si de procesor. 

Suntem conditionati sa avem neaparat o parere, sa reactionam, sa devenim agenti ai unor idei pe care n-avem timpul sau capacitatea sa le digeram, dar care sunt servite zilnic de algoritmul care ne defineste si redefineste Realitatea. Tribalismul online si afinitatile ideologice tot mai cristalizate fac dialogul cu rezidentii unei alte bule informationale aproape imposibil, pentru ca nici unii, nici altii nu facem altceva decat sa reiteram agenda si propagandele la care suntem abonati. 

Prin urmare, incepem sa ne uitam unii la altii ca la niste pacienti de sanatoriu cu care trebuie sa fim foarte atenti ca nu cumva sa declansam o criza de isterie. Asteasta precautie e desigur apanajul oamenilor mai delicati.. militantii vor sa faca scantei, sa strige la opozantii reali sau imaginari, sa nege pana si valoarea umanitatii care nu se aliniaza cu ideologia pe care o servesc ei. 

Dialectica a fost si ramane o indeletnicire pentru filosofi, iar filosofatul e astazi sinonim cu a fi un pierde-vara intr-o lume alerta, in care primeaza dezvoltarea cu orice pret, fast food-ul emotional si intelectual, productia in masa si uniformizarea.   

Speculez ca Judecatile apriori si concluziile nascute din premise neverificate, sunt si ele efecte secundare ale unei suprasolicitari mentale. Aceste scurtaturi ne sapa insa o capcana in care se cade foarte usor: anume Sofistica.

Daca ar fi sa o stratific in stilul lui Aligheri, ar arata cam asa: 

Stratul inferior, care e si cel mai gros, e format de cei care efectiv nu au capacitatea pentru logica. Ei sunt nascuti cu proverbele si concluziile in gura si capata migrene sau devin recalcitranti daca cineva incearca sa le deschida perspectiva.   

Al doilea strat e format de cei care, desi au discernamant,  sunt hipnotizati de personaje carismatice ce le suspenda abilitatile critice; temporar sau uneori chiar permanent. Influencerii care vand majoritatea produselor si ideilor in ziua de azi sunt superstaruri din lumea muzicii si a sportului, dar si personaje care au talentul de-a castiga followeri cu diferite forme si talente de care dispun. Politicienii o fac mult mai putin decat in trecut. 

Al treilea strat e format de cei care se conving pe ei insisi ca 2+2 e 3 pentru a supravietui in sistemul care ii hraneste sau pentru a fi acceptati in cercul lor social. Acestia aplica tot soiul de axiome si truisme, in functie de circumstante si sunt imuni la ipocrizie sau disonante cognitive. 

Un ultim strat, e format de oameni care au suficiente chei, capacitatea de analiza, inteligenta necesara sa identifice tipare si sa faca analogii corecte in orice domeniu, dar care se folosesc de sofisme pentru a-si exercita influenta si puterea asupra celorlalti. Scopul lor e puterea in sine, dar fiind competitivi din fire, ar fi mai putin plictisiti daca publicul ar fi ceva mai inteligent. Initial, sofismele sunt pentru ei o strategie, nu o capcana, dar cu cat le exerseaza mai mult, cu atat mult sunt prinsi in acest joc, pana la punctul de non-return.

Idealistii care dau share la caricatura aia in care un politician sta deasupra prapastiei pe o barna care e contrabalansata de o multime, vor sa glorifice adevarata putere a maselor in relatia cu autoritatile. Ei bine acesti idealisti nu inteleg ceva: majoritatea cazuta la fundul capcanei sofistice e sufocata de alte straturi de sofisti care creaza o delimitare insurmontabila intre ei si adevarata putere. 

Avansul tehnologic din secolul XXI a fost incredibil. Ganditi-va doar de cate ori a trebuit sa va adaptati si redefiniti in ultimii 20 de ani. Bunicii nostri si cei dinaintea lor, cu toate razboaiele si crizele economice pe care le-au suferit, au ramas mult mai consistenti de-a lungul vietii lor. In interiorul comunitatii lor, au avut linistea necesara pentru a-si defini propriile valori, au avut credinta ca si punct de reper si lumina calauzitoare. Oare suntem mai fericiti decat ei sau am devenit cumva mai valorosi decat ei, acum ca lumea e deschisa? 

P.S. Astăzi, bucuriile sunt mai diluate, nevralgiile dor mai tare, stresul e mai apăsător, rezistența la suferință e mai mică pt că suferim împreună pe internet, toți pentru unul, unul pentru toți. Francis Bacon spunea ca un prieten bun iti dubleaza bucuria si injumatateste tristetea, dar expunerea bucuriilor si tristetilor unei comunitati globale, plina de necunoscuti, s-ar putea sa aiba un efect exact invers. 

Intermission

If you get caught up in the utter Absurdity of various political scenarios for the future, you will completely lose control of your own life.

You will become just as helpless as a dreamer who has no power over the dream sequence.

When people talk about "waking up", they mostly don't know what they're saying. Waking up doesn't mean that you can wander the dreamland in search of a better dream. There is a dream machine at work and it can keep you busy processing the endless visions and dreams that it's sending your way; these are very powerful spells. In fact so powerful, that by merely acknowledging their existence, you won't be able to wake up anymore. It's like binge watching an endless TV show and being so captured by the random scenarios that you forget to do the dishes, feed the cat, see your family, call your friends, live.

Also, if someone proves to you that you are dreaming and you feel that you woke up as a result, it means that you are still asleep. It's just that you've started a new dream..

The God trade

In about 500 B.C., Xenophanes (pre-Socratic philosopher), asserted that animals, like us, would also draw gods in their own image, if they had the ability to do so. 

This was a criticism directed at the Greeks who were acceptant of the anthropomorphised images of their deities. And this has been our privileged species' bias for many millennia. 

2.500 years after Xenophanes, the deities are starting to lose their grip on humanity (thanks, Nietzsche!), but secularism has pushed more and more people on their own little ideological islands, where they rarely trade in ideas with anyone else; but they are quick to go to war fluttering their own unique island flag.

A new belief is being pushed onto us which says that no amount of diversity is too much diversity, that there is no normality, that our identities are limitless and that our billions of cells function according to the laws of quantum mechanics. We are being told that morality itself is a construct, that all values are debatable, that we've been doing it wrong for many, many millennia. 

The internet and its storytelling is expanding at a rate which is faster than any of our forefathers could have ever imagined. For instance, YouTube alone uploads 100 hours of video every minute!! 

Does this endless dilution of content, stories and heroes coincide with a richer set of values or will it lead us astray, following a personalized maze that will ultimately end up in a mental asylum, were everyone is raving about their own little philosophies and special illusions? Has it already happened with the perfection of the algorithms which recommend content for our little bubbles? 

One could argue that a limitless diversity of choice is helping all disenfranchised individuals find an identity thus spurring them on in their pursuit of happiness. 

But there are also those who see the social fabric coming apart at its seams. The super-educated youth is encouraged to roam free, away from the herd; But isn't this also an unprecedented opportunity for all sorts of predators? 

For an inquisitive mind, all universal truths should be challenged and put under scrutiny. Many of the very intelligent people, in pursuit of their epistemological Zenith will use compelling arguments against the unifying ideas of religion, even against the idea of God. They will say that believing this story has only brought misery and intellectual stagnation for "the many". Are they truthful? Humanitarians?  I have the feeling that not many wise people will agree.. 

Welcome to my pond

Dear friends, I fear that I have gone mad, so I warn you that what I am about to write could have been tainted by the machinations of a f(r)oggy mind. Continue reading at your own risk of contagion.

I don't know exactly when this could have happened, but I think I have become a frog. I am able to recall a time before this current state I am in.. but to my disappointment, I was a simple man, never a prince. This might make it a bit harder to return to my previous human condition, knowing that my reversed metamorphosis would not promise a significantly better situation. 

Of course, I have learned to be especially alert around snakes and birds, I am still developing my croaking skills and catching insects has proven to be harder than I thought. But aside from all that, the pond is really welcoming and I don't pay rent. I especially like the crickets at night.. how often does your food sing for you? 

There's a enormously long list of things that I like, but my absolute favourites are jumping and croaking with my army in the dead of night. The stars aren't so bad either and I can still remember some of the constellations from when I was a little kid. 

I'm pretty old for a frog; while I was checking my reflection in the pond, I noticed that I share the features of maturity common to the group's elders. However, they have not invited me to join them, seeing how clumsy I was at the most trivial frog tasks. If they could speak, they would probably express their perplexity at how I had managed to stay alive for so long. The same day I had joined them, a youngster had to kick me into the water in order to save my life. My skin was dry and I was choking.. I had no idea what was happening to me. To this day, I haven't been able to learn how to communicate verbally with them, but I now understand the basic does and don'ts. 

As a human, I had always called myself a night owl, the other night I was snatched by one. It let me go when I used my human voice and as I was falling from the night sky, twisting and turning through the air, I was concerned that, having heard me, my army would finally banish me from the pond. I landed in the water, next to my Lily pad. I climbed on top of it and started croaking the best I could. 

It might have been my loudest and most confident croaking yet and the others soon joined in with the same level of enthusiasm. 

No, I don't think I'm going back to being a human.. sure, I miss some people, my REM sleep and some comforts here and there, but this life is mostly better. I don't miss my stupid human brain. I now believe that the capacity to understand freedom is directly proportional with the capacity to invent reasons for slavery. 

P.S. many people I know have also been transformed into frogs and some have accepted the invitation to climb into a very very large pot filled with water. 

I sometimes miss a hot bath as well..