Sympathy for the Devil

An Article on psychopathology, specifically proposing that psychopaths may not be the cold killers they're believed to be... well, OK, they are, but because they have a deficiency in information processing.

OK, no, I'm just using this as an example.

OK, yeah, it's an Article sniping at World of Warcraft, and yeah, maybe there's a lot to complain about. That's not really my point. My point is that I really don't like this kind of snark. taking pot shots at people because they're different, because they like and do things that don't interest you or (worse) you don't understand. And really, it just reminds me of when I was picked on in middle-school. Which puts my smartly in the sights of anyone aiming this kind of snark, but I'd argue most of the people behind the trigger were the same kids. "The abused becomes the abuser," and such like that. And I don't like that because it seems like a metaphysical backslide.

Yeah, I think a lot of the culture around WoW is pretty ridiculous, and I was on the inside for a while (though it seems to me that those who have the most vitriol were once the most ensconced), but I don't think this kind of sardonic lashing out is called for. It's the sort of 'humor' I don't find amusing (which says something).

Update: I do admit that sarcasm has it's uses in assailing things which rightly ought to be assailed. As an example, there was once someone who refused to defend his position because, he 'argued,' if I agreed with him there was no reason to explain and if I disagreed there was no hope of changing my mind, so any discussion would be fruitless. I applauded him for his enlightened view of discussion, and he wasn't sure if I was mocking him or not. I was, but rightly so, I think. It wasn't a petty, "OMFG you like elves!" It was commenting on a very close-minded and faulty belief system. If I'd really wanted to have an effect on him (and I admit, I didn't care enough to expend thatr energy) a better tactic would have been to actually engage him on the issue. The fact that the issue was that he refused to be engaged didn't make that a desirable option.

That Which Does Not Kill Me

We're an over-medicated society, and I've never thought much of drugs. Here's Another Article about drug pushers in America. I always wonder exactly how effective drugs are on an individual level, and this adds fuel to that wondering.

DaVinci

Leonardo DaVinci is one of my heroes. A fellow southpaw, he was also (forgive the pun) a true Renaissance Man; it's a shame, I think, that he's pretty much only known as a painter. He was also a sculptor, a mathematician, a swordsman, a scientist of several stripes, and an inventor. Mercifully, he's often recognized as designing helicopters and tanks and other things far advanced for his time. Here's an Article about how his magnificent Mona Lisa is even more magnificent that we knew.

(no subject)

I can't watch This Video here at work, but I'd like to see it once I get home. As horrible and depraved a game GTA: Vice City may be ("I'm going to have to talk to your dad about this game."), I still believe it's a stretch to base anyone's actions on video games generally, let alone a single game itself. Their are, I think, deeper forces at work.

The Artificial Touch

The most difficult thing, Lisa thought as she reached for her soda, was having to think about it. Up, out, grasp, in; there was so much added thinking since the operation. Lisa had lost her left arm in a traffic accident when her VT-230 was sandwiched between an industrial transport and the inner wall of the downtown tunnel. The actual surgery was the easy part; sleeping for two and a half days didn't take much effort, especially when you were heavily drugged and low on blood anyways. It was the year and a half of therapy afterwards that was hard. Even now she wasn't quite used to her prosthetic. Down, out, release, she set her glass back on the table infront of her and folder her arm in her lap. They said it was fully bionic, which means that the arm's electronics met with her natural nerve endings somewhere behind her shoulder blade. This let her control her mechanical arm as well as her biological one, at least in theory. It seems she thought a lot more about her mechanical arm. It even looked mechanical, though less in the pistons-and-struts ways some old '90s films showed and more of a molded plastic, in shades of blue and purple. Developers had given up on making 'realistic' looking prosthetics after patients started being repulsed by the almost-human parts, a phenomenon that researchers called the 'uncanny valley.' She was running her left hand over her right, feeling the play of plastic against flesh. They said there would be no sensation of touch in her left hand; 'research into the proper receptors hadn't advanced,' they said. But they were wrong, she thought. She could feel her arm, he fingers, the smoothness of the glass and the subtle textures of the table. It was a different sort of sensation compared to her biological hand, but it was a sensation nonetheless. She sighed and stood. It was time to pick up the kids.