"An erection is often an indicator of asphyxiation."-- Chris Meloni, no tattle here on gay marriage.
One learns not to make too much of anything, and of course the poor tattle site has its problems, but all my comments may only be viewed under pending approval while those who need to be Nixonian freely post fuck and bullshit. This a scrabble hardened woman doesn't quite comprehend. I am not a requisite Kantian saboteur just for the purpose of being one, although maybe this ties into Gawker contributors?
The balance, between that of strength and entropy is often astonishing, but I suppose this has much to do with the DNA of Southern European peasants who cannot quite break their station. Slowly, as I creep toward Friday, we may go on a ride about poets, writers, and the excessive power of ostracization. Before this city takes my carcass, I am going to war with graduate writing systems, but the air is seasonal, and I'm in great pain, even holding in the purple in the clench of my jar as father and sister lie about finding me a new "place,"; not sure how I can bring you in on why we hate the ambulatory world.
Showing posts with label gawker. Show all posts
Showing posts with label gawker. Show all posts
Saturday, June 25, 2016
Wednesday, June 22, 2016
The Love of Theoretical Constructs
stop cursing everybody-- unattributed
I worry a great deal about Palantir. Peter Thiel commands in his online captions "let's change the world," but this facial recognition software and complex data analytics contravenes the very notion of personal liberty, and seems less innovative than simply more of the same. Asimov predicted, rather uncannily, where global conglomeration is taking us, long before David Mitchell earned a tsunami of critical acclaim with Cloud Atlas, as early as 1952, with Foundation and Empire. The protagonist, whose name is beyond recollection, discovers at the close of the novel that robots--for all intents and proposes androids, have programmed absolute control of human destiny, an ending more chilling than Mitchell's grim predicate of our decline and fall as a species, and here we are with these massive monopolies to which we've already ceded our lives, today nearly a prerequisite for existence, barring a reversion to a nomadic existence. Examining Thiel's media hostility under another lens, however, Thiel's destruction of Nick Denton's business is eerily similar to what Ayn Rand's mogul publisher Gail Wynand does by silencing a columnist who has co-opted his paper. Wynand cannot stop the man from preaching to his readers, so with an improbable ruthlessness, Wynand simply shuts down his presses, giving The Fountainhead a spiritual stridency for which Rand is often criticized. The Fountainhead is Rand's best polemical writing, undoubtedly, but she eschews the media because journalists, by definition, are shepherds, trying to penetrate, reform as much as inform upon its audience. It points to an old fashioned conceit about gay men and lesbians as a class, a retentive prudery.
I worry a great deal about Palantir. Peter Thiel commands in his online captions "let's change the world," but this facial recognition software and complex data analytics contravenes the very notion of personal liberty, and seems less innovative than simply more of the same. Asimov predicted, rather uncannily, where global conglomeration is taking us, long before David Mitchell earned a tsunami of critical acclaim with Cloud Atlas, as early as 1952, with Foundation and Empire. The protagonist, whose name is beyond recollection, discovers at the close of the novel that robots--for all intents and proposes androids, have programmed absolute control of human destiny, an ending more chilling than Mitchell's grim predicate of our decline and fall as a species, and here we are with these massive monopolies to which we've already ceded our lives, today nearly a prerequisite for existence, barring a reversion to a nomadic existence. Examining Thiel's media hostility under another lens, however, Thiel's destruction of Nick Denton's business is eerily similar to what Ayn Rand's mogul publisher Gail Wynand does by silencing a columnist who has co-opted his paper. Wynand cannot stop the man from preaching to his readers, so with an improbable ruthlessness, Wynand simply shuts down his presses, giving The Fountainhead a spiritual stridency for which Rand is often criticized. The Fountainhead is Rand's best polemical writing, undoubtedly, but she eschews the media because journalists, by definition, are shepherds, trying to penetrate, reform as much as inform upon its audience. It points to an old fashioned conceit about gay men and lesbians as a class, a retentive prudery.
The Nine Tenths Aspect, Dowager Version
In light of Gawker's battle over the Terry Bollea sex video, I did some research on Thiel. Some. I did not scour every link, nor do I know the entire story of the trial Gawker Media's lawyers lost to the powerful venture capitalist's investment in painting a man like Bollea as a victim, but here is a surprise for you: I like Gawker. This comes late, admittedly, and I wish I could make corrections to their platform editor after I hit publish, but anyone who can run a headline asserting Zuckerberg is a paranoid fuck has my admiration. If I make threats against my disabled community, I come under intense pressure from Blogger and twitter, but Zuckerberg has a high bar to meet as a public figure to go after Denton. I also followed Thiel's ominously quiet twitter account and used "faggot" like a whiplash noun, so is this not suspiciously against my libertarian vibrations?
Even Reason Magazine might hesitate to applaud Thiel's wealth as weapon against journalism. I'm a writer; it is what I damn well do for Christ's sake, and if Peter Thiel doesn't want to be outed as a stool softener, he should not be a public figure, but that ship has definitively sailed due to Ebay, Paypal, which I use, reluctantly, and had to use for Examiner's chump change, however many years it's been now. I am too ashamed of the fact that I bowed to Examiner's cut rate foreskin content aggregation to include it on my resume, but it consumed nine months of my life and added up to fifteen dollars. Whatever depression may have done to my Harvard acumen, I am still better than that.
Gawker is too, and I like it's meanness, Fleet Street bite. Thiel sets a dangerous precedent. I'm an individualist. I hate the New York Times, but if I had Thiel's money liberals would set me up for target practice if I sued Carlos Slin to decouple him from one of the most powerful newspapers in the US. I also shouldn't be paying Blogger for this domain name, assiduously applying myself, three bucks in a dead Adsense account, money which I actually need, as my budget is that bad, but I'm aging, frightened of that, and bitterly wronged.
Is media as an enterprise deplorable? Yes, and even Woodward and Bernstein should be challenged and deconstructed, but without narratives, we'd be murdering each other in crocodilian riverbeds.
Even Reason Magazine might hesitate to applaud Thiel's wealth as weapon against journalism. I'm a writer; it is what I damn well do for Christ's sake, and if Peter Thiel doesn't want to be outed as a stool softener, he should not be a public figure, but that ship has definitively sailed due to Ebay, Paypal, which I use, reluctantly, and had to use for Examiner's chump change, however many years it's been now. I am too ashamed of the fact that I bowed to Examiner's cut rate foreskin content aggregation to include it on my resume, but it consumed nine months of my life and added up to fifteen dollars. Whatever depression may have done to my Harvard acumen, I am still better than that.
Gawker is too, and I like it's meanness, Fleet Street bite. Thiel sets a dangerous precedent. I'm an individualist. I hate the New York Times, but if I had Thiel's money liberals would set me up for target practice if I sued Carlos Slin to decouple him from one of the most powerful newspapers in the US. I also shouldn't be paying Blogger for this domain name, assiduously applying myself, three bucks in a dead Adsense account, money which I actually need, as my budget is that bad, but I'm aging, frightened of that, and bitterly wronged.
Is media as an enterprise deplorable? Yes, and even Woodward and Bernstein should be challenged and deconstructed, but without narratives, we'd be murdering each other in crocodilian riverbeds.
Saturday, June 4, 2016
Simenon's Shrews
"I don't know who Donald Trump represents, other than himself."-- Gwen Ifill
I came on to research Thiel's battle with Gawker, and had previously supposed the outing issue had died a quiet death with Law and Order serials, and tend to believe there is more to it than that, even if a California leftist asshole like Mark Johnson doesn't make for much of an enemy does he, with sop driveling posts like this, linked twice for your edification. He's not much, in terms of an intellectual challenge, and attacked me personally because I gave him access to my work. I can assure you that the cliche about angry liberals having a terrifying mien holds true when it comes to this deadbeat want to be Beverly Hills shuttle cock, a lightweight not even worth the pleasure of a snapped vertebra, so linear and literal minded.
A broken bone must not make for much of a sound effect. Other than radicalized surgeries, I dislocated a knuckle and popped it back in on my own. I am not interested in writing about Thiel and Gawker. I'm not even positive I'd be the type of tattle writer who could offer Gawker any relative value, as I can't pitch my way into City Paper, and I live here, but billionaires having absolute media control troubles me, none the less, much more so than tabloid tactics toward content generation, so, if I have picked a side, learning that writing with passion, from the heart, earns the disenfranchised the wrath of giants, seems to me a cause for concern, even if I'm a hate crime in waiting not exploiting the sick and the deaf, using ALS and spina bifida and the autistic and addicts as shields. It runs through the blood of every procedural, from Poe to Simenon, Dick Wolf, Mankell, Beck. Codename Hunter, of course, puts an Ironside spin on paraplegia, but I'm not into it, just as Maigret and the Old Lady illustrates the great Belgian chaffing under his own formula, as its little more than an old woman's vanity above her station wreaking havoc on the class from which she climbed. I am caught in the middle, not knowing how to play powerful interests to end my life with the quality of peace I feel I deserve, but despising the radical left Johnson professes to espouse while revealing in misogyny toward me because I'm neither pretty, nor placid Ideologues are rarely what they appear to be.
I came on to research Thiel's battle with Gawker, and had previously supposed the outing issue had died a quiet death with Law and Order serials, and tend to believe there is more to it than that, even if a California leftist asshole like Mark Johnson doesn't make for much of an enemy does he, with sop driveling posts like this, linked twice for your edification. He's not much, in terms of an intellectual challenge, and attacked me personally because I gave him access to my work. I can assure you that the cliche about angry liberals having a terrifying mien holds true when it comes to this deadbeat want to be Beverly Hills shuttle cock, a lightweight not even worth the pleasure of a snapped vertebra, so linear and literal minded.
A broken bone must not make for much of a sound effect. Other than radicalized surgeries, I dislocated a knuckle and popped it back in on my own. I am not interested in writing about Thiel and Gawker. I'm not even positive I'd be the type of tattle writer who could offer Gawker any relative value, as I can't pitch my way into City Paper, and I live here, but billionaires having absolute media control troubles me, none the less, much more so than tabloid tactics toward content generation, so, if I have picked a side, learning that writing with passion, from the heart, earns the disenfranchised the wrath of giants, seems to me a cause for concern, even if I'm a hate crime in waiting not exploiting the sick and the deaf, using ALS and spina bifida and the autistic and addicts as shields. It runs through the blood of every procedural, from Poe to Simenon, Dick Wolf, Mankell, Beck. Codename Hunter, of course, puts an Ironside spin on paraplegia, but I'm not into it, just as Maigret and the Old Lady illustrates the great Belgian chaffing under his own formula, as its little more than an old woman's vanity above her station wreaking havoc on the class from which she climbed. I am caught in the middle, not knowing how to play powerful interests to end my life with the quality of peace I feel I deserve, but despising the radical left Johnson professes to espouse while revealing in misogyny toward me because I'm neither pretty, nor placid Ideologues are rarely what they appear to be.
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