In Which I Again Fail Spectacularly at Summarization

So. My novel. To friends and family, I’m notoriously miserable at summarizing things (especially with this book, because there are about ten different plot lines that all eventually coalesce), but I’ll try my best.

Here’s where each strand of plot begins.

The second civil war in North America has turned cold, leaving the continent somewhat nebulously divided. Chicago is a mafia-run city-state. Canada has subsumed portions of the western U.S., down into Los Angeles. Texas has finally seceded and become the Lone Star Republic. A militant Mormon group has declared Utah independent. The United States government, acceleratingly oppressive, still holds power in most of the U.S., especially in the east.

All sides have been experimenting with new military technology, particularly the U.S. A machinery and appliance company with extremely strong ties to the government has been running tests on some experimental new war machines sporting artificial intelligence. One of these tests involves a neural implant that allows a pilot to wirelessly interface with the tank and communicate with the AI.

During a field test involving sweeping out suburban ruins for resistance fighters, one of these tanks has an existential crisis and kicks out her pilot, severing their wireless connection. On his way back to report the incident to his superiors in Indianapolis, he stops in a diner where he meets a couple of cloned waitresses. Before he can eat his meal, the tank suddenly shows up out of nowhere and aggressively pursues him, flattening the diner in the process.

Another of these experimental AI machines is a biped model that’s intended to ultimately be a nearly indestructible weapon that can run indefinitely. The general chosen to test one of the two existent prototypes of this model ends up falling in love with the AI.

Due to an increase in genetic manipulation, the U.S. government has instated a kind of eugenics program that forces unmodified individuals to mate with each other, through the use of implants that effectively prohibit intercourse with others, but force intercourse during the woman’s most fertile time of the month. Unsurprisingly, there were plenty of middle-aged male volunteers for the program, and nearly all the draftees were women.

Two of the characters have these implants. One of them works for the Department of Information, effectively the propaganda arm of the government. The other works for a news organization that’s covertly owned by the Department of Information, screening news items for potentially subversive material. The former is a pompous asshole with a hardon for authority. The latter is a reluctant participant who does the work because it was one of the only jobs she could get. On the day the book begins, she receives a cryptic message in between the story items for the evening news.

In a New Mexican desert, during a demonstration to U.S. military research heads (which has become the only way to really make big money anymore), a hive of a hundred thousand robotic insects suddenly becomes unresponsive and takes off into the sky to the east. The small company that developed them pursues.

A seemingly contagious insomnia is sweeping across the country. Many suspect it’s linked somehow to yawning, but nobody really knows what’s causing it. Bioterrorism is suspected, but nobody can provide any evidence for the theory. While afflicted with this insomnia, a sleeper assassin is activated and sent on a mission.

A company called Meme offers the service of cloning individuals, rapidly developing the clones to an approximate specified age, applying any desired genetic modifications, and rewriting a map of one’s neural pattern onto the clone. You may not be able to live forever, but your ideas can. An elderly gentleman who anticipates the end of his life sells all his belongings and has himself cloned and killed. His clone is inadvertently double-written with both his neural pattern and the neural pattern of a recently-deceased supergenius with the same first name and a very similar surname, which had been stored in their computer system. Said clone wakes up extremely confused.

And that’s just the first morning. Throughout the book, the threads interweave in various ways that I won’t presently delve into as I don’t want to spoil anything for anyone who might actually want to read this if I ever get it published (or, failing that, if I ever self-publish it).

Childhood Friends

I recently Googled for a friend I’d had from about kindergarten to fourth or fifth grade. For a few years, growing up, he lived down the alley from me, but then their family traded houses with his grandma and ended up living about a block down the street from me instead in this creepy, huge house that I still have weird dreams and nightmares about.

They were always pretty religious and conservative. His dad threw an enormous fit once because I said “damn” after hurting myself on something. I’m pretty sure this kid was one of the first people with whom I ever had any kind of political disagreement, but I can’t quite remember the specifics.

Anyway, I found his blog — I guess he’s some kind of youth minister now, though he often doesn’t get all that preachy with most of his posts and they’re sometimes about, like, Will It Blend or whatever. I’ve been anonymously leaving relatively benign but slightly subversive comments on some of his posts, but with a few of his recent, more God-oriented ones, I’ve been maybe somewhat more argumentative.

Here are a couple of those comments, which I’m somewhat surprised he actually passed through his moderation filter:
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Victims

The modern feminist movement (humor me a moment here and let’s all pretend that we can speak of such an entity,) needs to move beyond simplistic statements such as ‘the solution to rape is for men to stop raping.’

Now, surely some of you are about to object that you or your buddies haven’t made such statements. Great! But there are plenty of people who *do*. The idea that men need to be ‘educated’ to not be violent against women has a lot of currency in the modern feminist movement.

That’s all well and good, but there’s one major flaw with this approach: it only addresses the abuser’s behavior.

“But talking about what the victim did is blaming the victim! What the victim did is irrelevant — they still shouldn’t have been abused!’

Oh SHUT THE FUCK UP.

My mother was abused, near as i can tell, by at least four men. i am in contact with two of her abusers; one of them i *know* was physically abusive. Nevertheless, both of them are now happy, functional people. THEY LEARNED TO NOT BEAT WOMEN. The feminist movement helped them become successful, emotionally-fulfilled, functional, happy people.

My mother, on the other hand, is STILL only barely socially functional. She’s separated from her fifth husband, dependent on medication, and unemployed because she keeps having panic attacks.

“Don’t abuse women” does a fine job of addressing the abusers’ end of things, but it does not help people who have not learned how to have functional social lives/relationships learn to have them — so they will continue having shitty relationships with people, even if those people aren’t abusive.

Mum’s in a new relationship, now. Makes me rather nervous.

This isn’t ‘blaming the victim’. This is a call to address their problems and help them. To ignore the problems which lead a person to become intimately involved with an abusive person in the first place is to leave them vulnerable to being hurt again and again.

Being a Nice Guy™ is like running in the Special Olympics: Even if you act like a martyr for “finishing last”, you’re still retarded.

Via Pandagon comes this goofy-assed CraigsList post where a gen-you-wine Nice Guy™ tells off all those horrible bitches who wouldn’t give him pussy just because he opened the door for them as part of an effort to try to get them to give him pussy. I, for one, am glad that someone’s finally had the guts to put women in their place, ’cause honestly it’s about time.

I find the whole human mating dance incredibly silly, and this kind of pathetic idiocy just adds another layer of disingenuous garbage to all of it. It’s so insipidly passive-aggressive. Instead of being open and up front about their feelings, they instead do “nice things” that verge on annoying and pitiful and are ultimately part of a larger ulterior effort to try to win the intended target’s heart.

Yeah, I get it, rejection sucks, but if she doesn’t reciprocate your feelings in the first place and doesn’t seem to show much interest in developing the same kind of relationship you’re looking for after you’ve spent a little bit of time together, turning it into a passive-aggressive mind game and getting all pissy when she doesn’t somehow telepathically gather what it is you’re driving at and comply with it is pathetic and stupid and will inevitably end in failure.

Here, let me address a few moronic things specifically:

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Southland Tales: Don’t not watch it.

Normally incapable of making decisions for myself, I usually turn to critics to tell me what to think about things I haven’t experienced yet. My only real dilemma now is trying to figure out which critics to listen to. Oh, how I wish someone would start reviewing film critics, so that I can know what to think about their reviews before I even read them. Eventually, I hope to never have to experience anything for myself again.

Okay, fine, seeing a movie in a theater is growing increasingly expensive, and I can see how people might want advice before slapping down ten or twelve bucks to see something that they might find spectacularly uninteresting or outright horrible. The theater experience is nice and all, but it’s ridiculous to pay just as much (or often more) to see a film once as it is to just wait a few months and actually buy the damn thing on DVD. If you have a Netflix account, then it’s even cheaper. (I’m working up a post on how DVDs and the internet are breaking the current model studios have, but that’s for another time.) But film critics are the fucking worst.

While claiming to hate formulaic blockbusters, critics are even less open toward films that don’t follow the traditional storytelling formula. They can bitch all they want about lack of originality, but it means little when that originality comes along and they hate it for not respecting the expectable boundaries they’ve grown to feel cinema should have. It seems they’ve conflated “palatable” with “good”, and that’s a really inaccurate perspective to have.

Southland Tales seems to have received a large number of unfavorable or condemning reviews. As of this writing, it has 35% on RottenTomatoes, with 41% among the “Cream of the Crop”, and if you’re lazy enough (and, shit, we all are, or film reviewers would be out of jobs), you can check the numbers, dismiss it, and move on. But if you actually read the individual reviews themselves, it becomes clear that we’re getting our opinions from abject fucking morons.

Let’s take ol’ Rodge-Podge Ebert, one of the “Cream of the Crop” reviewers and unfortunately a household name:

“A Schwarzeneggerian actor, related to a political dynasty, has been kidnapped, replaced with a double, and — I give up. A plot synopsis would require that the movie have a plot.”

Hey, Roger: Note that the movie is called Southland Tales, not Southland Tale. LEARN TO UNDERSTAND MORE THAN A SINGLE, PAINFULLY-CLEAR PLOT THREAD. This may require maybe READING A MOTHERFUCKING BOOK SOMETIME, WHEREIN MULTIPLE INTERRELATED PLOT THREADS ARE COMMON.

Then we have informative snippets — again from the “Cream of the Crop” critics — like:

Spending $12 and 2 1/2 hours (30 minutes less than the Cannes cut) on something as aggressively bad as Southland Tales is not something I can recommend with a clear conscience.

Well, that sure the fuck is informative. Replace “Southland Tales” with basically anything else, and take out the specific and equally uninformative Cannes reference, and it could describe it just as well. So this Lou Lumenick is effectively useless, though that’s not entirely unexpected for the New York Post.

Moving on:

By the time the movie rolls into its third hour, it’s exhausted most of its comic energy, leaving you disoriented and unable to remember much of what you just saw.

Hey, you might want to ditch that PDA and learn how to use your temporal lobe again, if you’re having that much of a problem storing short-term memories.

Even the positive reviews seem like they were scrawled on padded cell walls by aggressively stupid chuckleheads. The fact that the movie seems to be actively and intentionally seeking unfavorable reviews is no excuse, and doesn’t detract from my point that film critics aren’t to be trusted. Don’t even take my word for how incredible the movie is — and it is, in fact, one of my favorite movies, but I’m not going to spurt all over it to you to try to convince you — just don’t not see it just because a bunch of film critic douchebags think it’s not good.

Neurological Obstruction: Quick Follow-Up

Further evidence how misguided and broken content-based internet filtration is:

So, Ascendance attends a private college that employs a content filter that’s supposed to prevent access to adult websites and things. Depending on what I’ve written in whatever given week or month, my site drifts in and out of accessibility for him through their network.

We worked on the latest Dissection together in a Google document, and when I posted it to the site, he couldn’t see any of the images. So I had him try to get to one of the individual images, and apparently because the URL contains the string “partygirl”, he was unable to access it because the filter considered it “BLOCKED AS ADULT CONTENT”.

That is: His school — which apparently has a bit of a religious bent and wants to prevent its students from accessing “naughty material” or whatever — blocked a fundamentalist Christian comic book as “adult content”.

I’d be laughing aloud if the frustrating stupidity of it wasn’t so damn depressing.

Neurological Obstruction

It has recently been brought directly to my attention, though I’d known such had been occurring for some time on a general basis, that my website is being blocked by content filters on various educational facilities’ networks. Even more troubling, I’ve noticed, now that I’m actually paying attention, is that it’s being blocked by some public schools, even from their public libraries.

Students who attend institutions where internet access is filtered based on content aren’t being educated but rather indoctrinated. I understand there are certain limitations that need to be enforced to keep bandwidth usage to a minimum and prevent substantial distractions, but content-based filtration is a misguided and legally questionable approach. That this filter also extends to libraries is an anti-intellectual atrocity, as this extends denial of access to an even greater number of people, many of whom aren’t even students.

I also understand that private schools are a different story, but they’re often goofy and oppressive in even more ways than just this. While they do have the right to insist that their students wear pink chain mail uniforms and bring live chickens to stroke vigorously during lectures on how God grew the world out of a red bean by vomiting manna on it for six days, the “indoctrination, not education” factor still applies. But for now, I’ll stick with public schools, since I’m a little upset that my taxes are apparently ensuring that students are being denied knowledge.

As a public institution, one which has been given the mandate of intellectual edification, is suppression of publicly-available information really a course of action schools should be comfortable taking? I don’t want to sound like a Crazy Guy from the Internet, but the parallels to Communist China’s approach to internet access are clear and undeniable. And the idea that a student cannot access information — or that a writer’s point is unworthy of being read, or should be prevented from reaching readers’ eyes — simply because of the presence of, say, the “f word” is absolutely ludicrous.

Part of learning is figuring out how to pick and choose from all available information and making decisions and understanding things for yourself, not simply being presented with only the palatable, “acceptable” information that someone else has deemed safe to agree with. If you deny or oppress or in any way limit freedom of speech, you’re doing an intellectual disservice to the students who are relying on you to help guide them in the formation of their foundations for thinking.

Again, I recognize the need to keep students from downloading huge blocks of data, or from becoming a nuisance to themselves or others, but restriction of access is always a bad idea, and I’m fairly certain that as a public, tax-funded institution, doing so is a violation of First Amendment rights. I’m personally offended by the
situation on multiple levels, and am weighing the costs versus benefits of seeking legal action to prevent this kind of rights encroachment being systematically perpetrated by government institutions.

What do I propose instead? Well, do what offices that are concerned with productivity do: Throttle transfers of large incoming or outgoing chunks of data. Send up a flag for persistent transfers that last longer than a few minutes, and shut them down. Hard disk space is cheap — keep logged records of students’ internet access, and if they use the internet in a manner that is harmful to other students or themselves, take disciplinary action. If someone reports that Billy Johnson has been looking at porn, then pull the log and give him detention if it’s true. If Kevin Harris’s grades are slipping because he’s getting distracted by the internet, maybe place time restrictions on his account. But if Julie Hernandez wants to visit MySpace, or read polemic essays with vulgar language, if it’s not affecting her grades and she’s not hurting anyone else, then there is no problem. Don’t turn it into one.

To any teachers or members of school administration reading this, please take this advice into consideration. If the problem persists, you may — will, if I have anything to do with it — one day all find yourselves facing a class-action-wrought injunction from writers the world over that will force you to remove content restrictions. To any students reading this whose schools have such a content-based filter, if you send me the name of your school and the e-mail addresses of the school’s administration, I’ll be more than happy to pass this message along to them.