Cromwell's Invidious Frustration With The Unforeseen

For the more delicate and costly articles of food for the sick we relied mostly on the agents of the Sanitary Commission.-- William T Sherman, ushering in the modern era, p 883

In terms of its neo-realism, Surrogates has many issues. Critics ask why humans would desire to be enveloped in a body length sensory console, but as the studio FX for this Willis vehicle illustrates, our physical bodies could not long survive such extended periods of inactivity, unless one has to adapt, as Cromwell's Canter does, to being a mobility impaired tyrant. The plot is also problematic. If VSI hired Stone to kill its founder in order to prevent catastrophe, one that makes the Third Reich seem inept, then you hire a contract killer to penetrate to the source, to make sure the hit is done right. If Willis can do it as Greer in the flesh, one can assume Kodjoe's no nonsense cueball supervisory agent could have found someone methodical and efficient enough to kill Canter before he uploaded the virus. But beneath the surface of its weak story, the industry's kick in the teeth toward itself might generate rancor. Even seeing what we see, and making pneumatic blockbuster allegories reveling in the very psychosis of mortality, we cannot stop the train. We're already plugged in and enhanced automated liars, and even the dowager, courageous as she is with appalling truths about physicality, poverty, and a stacked, corrupt deck, has certain episodes of omission. I do not reveal certain things about Lakisha Doe, not because I know she is online, but because her guilt doesn't deserve that I use it to hurt her. She wasn't a bad assistant as far as really African blacks go; tried to help me, using her money to buy me clothes, but I did not want a nigger surrogate for a daughter, and booted her, doing her a favor, really. Where she is at now with her dental company is better than where she was with me on the waiver system. And I'm sitting here writing this to jack up. God forbid I stay offline for a week and prioritize my many issues. I am sure this is what many followers who've abandoned this voice think. Do what you need to do, but like Rosamund Pike, many of are infected avatars, and mine concurs with Cromwell's final, insidious, implosive, intent. In the alternate timeline of Surrogates' futureworld, Canter would have become an immortal legend, demonized in eternal infamy. The truth of the matter, however, is there are already thousands of people in an extended matrix much akin to sim operators, forced to view the world through lenses with limited periphery. Of course it will not evolve in the manner of the graphic serial brought to life like a plastic surgery bill, but the allegory already lives. Much as Black Mirror's writers already know. Humanity isn't sure what exactly it wants for itself, a homogeneous utopia which removes adversity from our existence, which is what makes us thrive, or to limit our collective altruism for individual circumstances unique to each.

Reporting correspondant spastique pour le service

"Why can't man be as free to dance in the sunlight in the time that he has?"-- Thomas Gibson

When nine eleven hit, I was here, same desk, asking my fellow writers in Speakeasy if they were okay, before my account was banned a year later. Happily, I haven't been banned from commenting at The Washington Post. I do not personalize disagreements with Eugene Robinson or Jonathan Capehart, haven't worn out my welcome, and in 2001, I was vainly attempting to hold onto my belief in independent living rhetoric. September 11 was surreal. More or less a source of dissonance, even with the knowledge that the Twin Towers was a tourist treat when I lived in Rusk Institute. Fourteen years ago it was simply shock, too much video of debris and passenger jets, and the literature of Islamic radicalism amounted to little more than the standing ovation  President Bush received before a joint session of Congress uttering the name of "al qaeda". Everything is big in the US. Big disasters, epic wars, sometimes too lengthy, blockbuster futurist parables about the dark side of perfection which do little more than announce we're already here. These days, anyone who pays attention to foreign correspondents can whip up a pate of the failure of civilization for Arabian-Semitic non-Jewish peoples.

The Paris attacks have hit me profoundly, and like the handful of Americans who volunteered for de Gaulle during the Resistance, I want to apply for a Visa and trot off to France in a fervor of retrenchment, petite ailing almost life long welfare mongrel, not quite at James Cromwell's level of horrific deterioration in Surrogates. Interesting premise, stupid movie. Even I realize we aren't turning back from this evolution to integrated cyborgs.

My sister wants me to be careful with my level of provocation, and surely, if I was confronted with ISIS, I'd fare worse than Kayla Mueller, but I cannot sit here and watch European heritage collapse and fall to its knees as an apologia for thousands of years of imperial strife. This is where I am right now. 

All Eyes on the Neurosurgeon

The 2009 Surrogates has tracer elements. Part deconstruction of Bruce Willis as the Die Hard action figure, part terminator, and playing a bit on Keanu Reeves angst with The Matrix, and the carnage of Terminator, the dowager confesses she only caught approximately 50 minutes of the second half, unaware that it was scheduled as a Saturday afternoon matinee. While not retracting that certain aspects of the narrative were nonsensical, spastic has flagged it as a non eating up my usage review, noting the shock value of its human operator cinematography juxtaposed against the perfect grooming of the androids providing the perfect vicarious extensions. Does anyone believe Dr. Ben Carson can defeat Hillary?

Spastic agrees with much of what the man says in public, despite previous spurious use of simian epithet in previous post. It was the hesitation behind the bigotry of disaffection, not that this woman has the inside skinny on which of the remaining GOP candidates will prevail. Twenty percent of me which remains committed to advocacy might wish to throw my lot behind this man, despite dowager's impoverishment. I'll have a longer post on this soon. I've come to prefer writing out my posts on Word and then augmenting them in the window, particularly when I wish to push, but like the good doctor, I have my serious, impassioned side, and truly believe, despite Tony Blair's observation about "power shifting rapidly West to East," that the time for comprehensive military engagement has come. Sometimes, civilization has its price. When Islamic State was on the rise, some of us looked on it with muted respect, but never envisioned this yellow liveried barbarity of cowardice this paramilitary force has subsequently displayed. The Iraq War may have helped IS to rise, but the Sunni's need to be punished, the Iranians defanged, and NATO needs to act, and stop playing patsy. Empathy, much as vaunted, fragile, civil liberties, isn't a suicide pact either, to pick up the post-9/11 cry.