I’m rambling, and I’m well aware of it. Can you believe it’s been months, again, since I blogged about anything? Life is rolling right on along. I’ve been visiting all sorts of family and spending quite a bit of my spare time outside. Not to say that I have too much spare time…

Minnesota was gorgeous nearly the entire time that I was there. I bought one of those fancy state-park passes for a meager $25. The view from a 100-foot observation tower in one of the state parks was worth the price all on its own. My sister and I attempted to go canoeing at one of the state parks, but upon the realization that life-jackets were required inside any water vessel… we packed up the inflatable canoe and continued on about our day. (I wonder, if we were just swimming alongside of the canoe for a few miles down the river, would our chances of drowning go up? Because then we are not required to have life vests. Go figure.)

A piece of my past decided to make an appearance the other day, which was rather startling. It’s funny how we connect things in our minds. One little memory can cause an entire avalanche of flashbacks, reconsiderations, and reflections. Luckily, things went fairly smoothly this particular encounter. It is fun how you can never anticipate when something like that might happen.

On to other news… I’ve been reading Les Misérables for a good month now and am still only about half-way through. It is an absolutely fantastic read, and I highly recommend it to you. It positively grips the soul and then proceeds to force it to submit to an entire spectrum of emotions. The book is much less directly philosophical than most of the books I enjoy, but it still leaves plenty open for critical evaluation. If you do read it, just know that it’s slow to start and littered with painfully long asides. Have patience and read leisurely – it’s well worth it.

Last, but not least, on my list of basically meaningless banter topics – I’d like to tell you that I got a new highly-portable laptop. It’s the Acer Aspire TimelineX 4830T – and it is a truly fun little machine. I’m going to post a review of it soon over at my Computer Correct website, so keep an eye peeled.

Hopefully, this new domain will allow me to capture more traffic for “Andrew Anderson” – since, I’m sure, most of those searches are in fact for me . Anyway, we’ll see how it goes.

On a side note, I want to write a little bit about the companies involved in the transfer. Especially since I couldn’t find much information on one of them when I was trying to make sure that I wasn’t being duped. OfferBase.com was where I first expressed my interest in the domain name. It allowed me to do the bidding on the name, and communicate with the previous owner. For the actual money side of things I used Escrow.com – and that all went very smoothly. So, as far as I am concerned, both companies are reputable.

That’s about all that I have to write about at the moment, but I’ll try to come up with something more soon.

For all the lack of comforts that the nomadic lifestyle offered, it had a certain appeal – a freedom that I couldn’t find anywhere else. It grew on me, to tell you the truth, kind of like strong black coffee. Saying goodbyes always got easier, so did avoiding commitments, and, somewhere along the dotted white lines, I began to feel like I belonged everywhere and nowhere all at the same time.

After about ten years of wandering, every place I’d visit began to have a common lethargic feel – people were always settling into similar routines. They’d all babble about the weather, try to convince me, along with themselves, that their jobs weren’t “so bad” and give me play-by-plays of their kids’ lives.

As for me, I didn’t have any kids and my “routine” was too unordinary to capture anyone’s attention without making them feel a little bit uncomfortable. It wasn’t that I led such an exciting life, it’s just that it was too different for most people – they didn’t care to understand it, so there wasn’t much sense in discussing it. The end result of their discomfort and disinterest, is that I talked an awful lot about the weather of wherever I happened to be.

This was probably a good thing, because in reality, though my “job” wasn’t too exciting, it was not exactly on the straight-and-narrow. Not having to talk about it probably saved me more than a few friendships. (On that note, I never could sympathize with the common Joe’s unquestioning reverence for the law.)

How I make a living doesn’t really fit in to this little exposé of mine, and, in actuality, I’d rather not tell you – I don’t want it to change the way you hear what else I have to say. And, what else, you may wonder, do I have to say…

In all honesty, I guess I’m not sure exactly even what I thought I had to say in the first place. I suppose that I wanted for this blurb to be about the advantages of living on the road – something like a modern plug for the fact that a “rolling stone gathers no moss.” I wanted to make an argument for getting out and seeing the country, embracing change, and welcoming new experiences.

But, now, now that I’ve just seen the projected gas prices for this summer, I think you’d be better off with one of those stay-cation adventures everyone else keeps talking about. That, and I suppose it’s as good a time as ever to let you know that I’m in the market for a used Prius.

“And, what, tell me sir, is that?”  Dwain heard from within the woods.

“And who… tell me sir, are you?” Dwain asked into the woods.

“Someone very interested in what you have beneath your arm,” the shadows between the trees replied, “Call me Doubtful”.

“Sir Doubtful… what I have here, you’ll certainly not understand. The words can be understood, only under the lite touch of of a hand.”

“Lies will get you nowhere, boy,” Mr. Doubtful spoke, “now let me see that special book you’re carrying, so that I can decide for myself if I find it intelligible.”

Nervous, then, Dwain ran down the trail he was on for several minutes. When he could run no more, he sat on the trail in silence. His eyes darted about him, his ears strained to hear the voice of Doubtful. Sweat trickled down his brow and into his eyes. They stung.

It was then that he noticed the forest was simply too quiet. Aside from his breathing, he couldn’t hear a thing – no wind rustled the trees, no birds sang aloud, and not a leaf nor a branch cracked in the distance. It was as though the entire forest was dead.

Then the whisper came again, but more harshly, “If the book has all the answers, everything one needs to know, then I must see it – NOW!”

Something slammed into Dwain and knocked him to the ground. It only took him a few seconds to get back on his feet, but even that was too long. The book was gone.

In the distance, Dwain could hear the rustling of pages, like someone was thumbing through his book. But the sound wouldn’t stay still, it danced around him and left him disoriented.

Right as he was about to scream with rage, he heard his book flying at his face. He closed his eye just in time for the impact, and smiled as he took the blow.

The forest was quiet again. Dwain ran until he was home. He put the book beneath his pillow and began to wash for supper.

I was resolved to find sustenance, and soon. My stomach was throwing a downright miserable tantrum. And then I saw the kid, with a waffle cone and four scoops of chocolate-chip peppermint ice cream. Even my stomach paused in astonishment. This was it, my chance to feel replete – to subside the monster within. I bolted towards the child, and with all the grace a guy in his robe can muster, I swooped down and snatched the cone from the child. It let out a terrible shriek, but I was already a block away.

I dove behind a large fence and partook of the stolen goods. The minty-green coolness of the ice cream, coupled with the chocolaty-crunch of the chocolate chips, made me completely forget how ashamed I ought to have been for robbing a child of his happiness. I had only eaten three scoops when my stomach began to throw another fit. Too much ice cream on a hot day usually turns out to be a bad idea. Apparently, that day was no exception. I threw the last scoop into the grass, propped myself up just enough to fall back over to the other side of the fence, and proceeded to crawl home.

It was an embarrassing day. A few blocks had never felt so far away. I pushed open the door of my apartment, collapsed on the floor, and slept off the spoiled stomach.

When I woke up, I felt great. I fancied myself a regular hero for saving that child of a horrible stomach ache.

I got out of college, stuffed my philosophy degree in a box, moved out of my little apartment in Chicago, and hit the road with my uncle. Together we drove (actually, he drove and I rode along) all over the Midwest and some of the Southwest and Northwest. I got to see more country (and more freeway) in a short six months than most people see in a decade. I got to visit more casinos than most people visit in their a lifetime. It wasn’t always fun, and I can’t say that I anticipate missing casinos anytime soon, but it was nifty time nonetheless. There is something about living in a small camper for an extended period of time that makes you profoundly aware of everyday comforts such as well-equipped kitchens, full-sized water heaters, and plush couches. Most things in life begin to fall into place as luxuries rather than the necessities most people regard them as.

Over the course of those six months, I managed to obtain enough money to pay off my student loan debt… and am now completely debt free. It’s an awfully cozy feeling. Now, with breathing room about me, I am resolved to making a living on the internet. I have the domains, a reliable, basic server paid two years in advance, and a general direction in which I want to take things. All that I’ve got to do is make it happen.

of course it was beautiful,
it was an impossibility,
that i held close to my heart.

until it vanished, suddenly,
without so much as a warning,
i truly ought to have cried.

instead, i turned away,
an irresponsible keeper,
of my own ludicrous ideas.

i’ve not yet found another,
nor clearly recalled,
my mislaid vision.

i shall keep looking,
always for the beautiful,
struggling for the unobtainable.

for whatever reason i am,
peddler of the impossible,
cherisher of the absurd.

the cigarette wobbled all the while
she often cackled about her youth

but her eyes betrayed her humor
for sincere regrets and shattered hope

she often slurred too much
to talk about abandoned dreams

so I would listen to her fairy-tales
wondering how much she believed

eventually she’d forget I was there
become lost in mummbles to herself

I tried to smile, but it was hard
Inevitably, I’d excuse myself…

she kept on talking, smoking, drinking
until, at last, she passed away

gone, to wherever a godless woman goes
I missed her then, that old lady… grandma

Those words shook me from my apparent dementia, and I couldn’t help but stare at the beans beneath me. Truth was, I had no idea what I was doing. I tried to tell her that, but when I looked up she was gone. That didn’t bother me so much as the fact that when I looked back down the beans weren’t black, they were pinto beans. What a ridiculous mistake – to think a pinto bean was a black bean.

I was mentally reprimanding myself for the error, when it came to my attention that rain was forecast and I had never closed the windows.

The room was hemispherical, so I can’t claim to have searched every corner of the room – but wherever I did look, I could find no windows. Which was a bit unsettling, since I remembered having built the house myself. That, and it was against the building code to have no windows. But, they really weren’t there. Not a single pane of glass to look through to the outside.

I went to fetch the broom, as I needed to sweep up the black beans, but I couldn’t find that either. I recalled having left it under my bed, but the only things under there were my alligator head and a pair of shoes.

I needed some fresh air – I put on my shoes, put the leash on the alligator head, and proceeded to the door. Which, actually I should have guessed, was locked. I went for the key, but realized it would do no good. The deadbolt was on the other side, it had always been on the other side. I was going to have to kick my way out.

For almost an hour I kicked – at one point, I even broke the alligator head when I threw it rather forcefully into the door.

It finally opened – it always did eventually. I remembered that opening the door was probably a bad idea, but it was too late.

The last thing I remember was a man in a white suite with a little needle. It pinched, burned for a minute, and then he turned out the lights, I guess.

When the lights came back on, there were no still no beans, still no windows, and the door was shut again. My alligator head was gone, my shoes were on the wrong feet, and I was terribly disoriented. Thank god the floor was soft, because I fell down half a  dozen times.

I set about finding that misplaced window. I just wanted to know what it was like out there, outside. To see if it was any different from inside.

the heart, it races quicker,
caught up in the scheme.

you hear him… even snicker,
at humor never seen.

the common-man points his finger,
at black ink upon a page.

he escapes his life to linger,
on some fantastic stage.

immortal is the bringer,
who manages to assuage…

the discontented,
with his fiction.

So, if time itself were infinite, then would right now always be the midpoint?

If time had a speed limit, it seems like it would be set by the speed of light – since that sets the limit for everything else.

Time itself may be setting the speed limits.

I take issue with infinite divisibility.

Because most things in nature cannot undergo such a division.

From here, we can see that nature gives us lower bounds on the size of things.

Time is a natural thing, right?

What is it made of? That usually determines the lower bound.

Can time exist without motion?

If not, then maybe time is made from movement – and more reason to take light as a possible limiting factor.

If so, then what might it be made of?

It won’t do to say time is made of seconds, etc.

Assuming that some class of particles x were the smallest in the universe. Then might that set a limit on the smallest movement?

We line up these x particles in front of some thing y, and we move y. on the line We know y moves because it displaces an x. If it doesn’t displace an x, do we still want to say that it moved?

If not, we have discreet steps of movement. Lower bound is the size of x.

There is nothing actual about a fraction of an x then.

Likewise with time?Eventually, there is nothing actual about a division…

Then things tick along in small steps, not in an infinite number of steps.

Infinity would be unnatural.

But is that how it is? Do these bounds exist?

I’m not sure things are any more obvious, but maybe my train of thought is a bit easier to follow. I’m going to be back here soon. If I can ever get there.

This goes back to Mike, because one of the tidbits he once left me to mull over was: “light is like a river, and nothing within the river can go faster than the river goes” – of course, he was trying to explain to a ten-year-old that the speed of light is a kind of universal speed-limit. It sounded neat, I didn’t really fully buy it then, and I’m still not sure if I do now. However, recently, I’ve been having the oddest thoughts about light-speed, midpoint paradoxes, and discreet mathematics. I’m basically under-qualified for discourse in all of the subjects, but let’s bundle them up for a bit and draw out what’s been bothering me.

The midpoint theorem is simple enough, to get from point A to point B on a continuous function you must pass through the points on the function between A and B. There are more rigorous definitions available, but that one should do for now, I hope. So, you walk in a straight line from point A to point B, and you must pass through the midpoint C. The paradox arises that you can never get to point B. There is always a point half-way between wherever you happen to be on the line and where you want to go; you must always get halfway before you can get where you want. You can always get to the midpoint, but you can never get to the end.

Now, here’s the catch, or so I think… for the paradox to hold, there must be a midpoint at every one of an infinite number of divisions. I do not believe that can happen. I’m highly suspicious of attempting to apply the conceptualization of infinity to the actual world. (Calculus is nifty and useful, right, I know… and I don’t think that I take issue with the use of infinity in that sense… as a symbol, or a designator of a mathematical process…) I’m thinking that the world does not have the kind of domain that permits of infinite divisions.

Naturally, things appear to have bounds… movement is bounded by the speed of light, the physical dimensions of objects by the size of atoms (or components thereof)… so that at some point it makes no sense to talk about dividing a step along a natural function. Maybe everything moves in discreet steps, with the number of possible divisions bound by the speed of light. When you try to divide time itself into a segment smaller than light can travel, maybe that just doesn’t make any sense… perhaps it’s an impossibility… and if it is – then maybe the paradox is misleading about the way the world is.

More than that, maybe the idea of infinity is misleading about the way the world is. Maybe the idea of continuity as applicable to the natural world is nothing more than a pleasantry…(though, would it make any practical difference if we changed our way of thinking about the number of possible midpoints on our walk  from our front door to the mailbox?) If we can’t divide time into infinity, then I don’t think we can divide anything else into infinity. It’s like time is the river, and everything that can happen can only happen as fast as time will permit.

Using Mike’s analogy: the speed of time can only bound by the speed of light (because, mustn’t time itself be in the river… or could it be the river?) – and then that’s our actual continuity stopper. We’re not moving continually, we’re taking a bunch of really, really small steps. Really small, but not infinitely so.

What happens at 299,792,459 meters per second? Nothing…? And light’s speed is constant… so we know where it must be at each time between any A and B. Take that with the limited dimensions of the light particle itself… and you have all the bounds you need to prevent the infinite division, or not? We can’t divide to any point that would make that little light particle move faster than it can move. Dammit, is time bound or not? I’m regressing into confusion…

What do you think? If you’ve read something somewhere that would help me think about the issue further, or have personal insight into what I’m confusing myself over, then please leave a comment and let me know.

It was a damp spring day and I was on my north-facing porch admiring the fog between the trees. Amidst the familiar sounds of nature, I heard a kind of muffled chuckle. It startled me enough to grab the spotlight and grant the direction of the auditory intrusion a closer look.

I only had to step a few yards into the wood to see what was so unnatural for the forest: a group of little green men, a golden horse, and the end of a rainbow. It was as colorful as it was unusual, and it must have been the gasp that gave me away. Forthwith, I was spotted by the little green men and immobilized by their expressions of astonishment directed towards me.

I began to wonder if I had not disturbed some ritual or intruded upon some important holiday… for their disgust was as clear as their surprise. As a matter of fact, I began to feel a little ashamed of myself and turned around so that I could get back inside my cabin.

My first step in that direction, however, set off a terrible cacophony amongst the green men. I was disturbed… not quite sure what to do. So I stood, looking back and forth between my familiar cabin and the strange congregation of little green men. I stood for quite some time.

Eventually, apparently aggravated with my incompetence on how to handle the situation, two of the men walked up to me, took me by the hand rather forcefully, and shuffled me over to the golden horse. I stood there, rather perplexed on the significance of the gesture… and curious, too, about the horse before me.

I reached out to feel it, but was halted by gasps from the strange men. I was at a loss for how to act, or what to do. I wondered why I was brought before the horse if not to touch it. A green man walked in front of me, emitted some vocal gibberish, and then grabbed a stick.

He took the stick to the horse. As quickly and with as much force as he could seemingly muster, he swung right at the horse’s belly, releasing the stick just before it hit. The horse hardly flinched, and the stick fell to the ground, but it was different now… the man picked it up and handed it to me.

I immediately noticed what a terrible mistake I had almost made moments ago. The stick was no longer organic… it had been transformed into a golden rod! I was delighted, sick, relieved, and terrified all at the same time.

How was this possible? What should I do with the situation that was before me? The little green men, as though they could read my mind, pointed to the rainbow, then to each other, and lastly to the golden horse.

My interpretation of their charade came from child-hood stories of gold and leprechauns. I was filled with a nostalgic awe, and thought it quite ironic that I had never believed in leprechauns my entire life. Now, here they had practically sought me out to certify all the lore I once dismissed.

I threw a pebble at the horse, and watched a golden nugget fall amongst the trees. It was perfectly intoxicating, and I began to feel utterly avaricious. I hurled more stones, sticks, leaves, and flowers upon the horse… until, in a moment of apparent insanity I tossed a little green man at the golden beast. He was a horrific statue of gold in an instant.

The others moaned, cried, and screamed with rage and fear… they all fled to the woods. For the first time, the horse began to move… he trotted slowly, and the rainbow moved after him as though bound by some invisible chain.

Frantically, I tried to calm the horse, but it began to pick up speed. I pursued it steadfastly for about a quarter of a mile, when I was struck on the back of the head… and the world went dark.

When I came to it was almost dusk, and I was terribly sore. I peered into the murky sky for any sign of the rainbow that might reveal the whereabouts of my lost opportunity. There was no such band of light.

I ran back to the place where I had transformed pieces of the world into a fortune, but all was lost. Nothing sparkled there, but for a tiny golden nugget. I was certain that the damn green men had stolen my gold as retribution for my greed-fueled act against them.

I sobbed like a child. I was embarrassed because of my stupidity and my poverty. Before the sun set, I packed my bags and set about finding the potential for unlimited gold at the end of a rainbow.

“Indeed,” he replied. “One size fits most,” he went on.

The fat little man was the proprietor of the only box shop in America. A cousin of that notoriously lanky and clean-cut Sam. In fact, the fat little man used his cousin extensively for advertising. “In a box!” He would hand write on the front of those iconic pointy posters. It was a sleazy marketing scheme, but the proprietor certainly had no qualms with being sleazy.

His shop was littered with boxes, some of them hardly extracted from their packaging. The boxes came in a standardized shape that vaguely resembled a coffin, but sported myriad accessories and customizations. Some were gold and silver plated, others had diamond-studded seams, sun roofs were optional, and the color was completely customizable. Many people opted to have their names engraved on the inside, apparently fearful that they may forget themselves once inside. Special requests were permissible, even encouraged…. anything to get you into a box.

Box shopping, you see, had become a kind of adolescent right-of-passage. You’d go alone, but when you left, you were part of a worldwide community of box-dwellers. It was an important time for all young people. A potentially life-long commitment to a certain way of life. It was expected, most often desired, and generally acknowledged as something to be content with.

Now, amidst all this discussion of form, I’d not like you to believe, even for an instant, that the boxes merely served as some consumerist fad. Quite the opposite, in fact, these boxes were timeless classics, remnants of antiquity. History stood as some makeshift testament to the fact that it was wise to dwell within a box.

Besides, the boxes always had real functions… important functions. They were basically required for networking, coming standard with the necessary fibers that comprised the world’s networks. the boxes were also required for high-rise apartments and skyscraper offices. Indeed, many were required… the ones at top needed something to rest upon.

Boxes always offered potential; the possibility to take advantage of reorganizations and move up in the world. They were the building blocks for society’s most admired landscapes. You needed one before you could even consider taking part.

So, it was mildly startling to the fat little conformity-peddler when the young lady asked about box shopping. She was supposed to know all about it at her age.

“Well, now, tell me what you’re looking for in a box,” he squealed.

“One with infinite volume, limitless area, and invisible walls,” the girl said as she stared into space.

“I’ve got a spacious enclosure right here, it sports an all-glass construction with four slide-out sections and all the latest technology,” he said as he pointed to the shimmering box. “It’s probably as close as your going to get to you dream-box,” the man said rather sternly.

“Unless, of course, I just leave,” the girl quickly replied.

“Take a look at this government brochure, or this corporate statement,” the man yelled, “only a fool would deny the benefits of a box!”

It was then that the little lady walked right out on the chubby fellow.

The next youngster eagerly walked right on in. Box sales were steady. The advertising and brochures remained the same. There is no doubt that the shareholders, the box endorsers, and the fat little man went on with their routines… albeit with one fewer box beneath each of their own.

And the girl? Well, it’s always harder to know exactly what becomes of those that choose to live outside of a box.

I wonder what road you’ve walked
To what odd men you’ve surely talked

I contemplate just how you came to be
A person so much worse than me

Set in stone by some chance combination?
Determined by adolescent recreation?

Whom to blame for what you are?
By what fate you’ve come so far?

To cross my path and make me see
Just how miserable a life can be

I stare into your abyss of a soul
Grab my walking stick and off I go

Each step widens the gap between
What I can see and what I have seen

Some place down the road I may recall
You weren’t really so bad after all

Two weeks of the good life passed and my other uncle called. Two days later my two uncles and I were in Chicago. Me, back in Chicago. I haven’t been gone long enough to feel nostalgic about my return… or to mentally prepare myself for another bout with the nearly-intolerable weather here.

There’s really no telling how long I’ll stick around the midwest, but I’ll try to keep updating. At least mobile internet works well here.

Last Tuesday, moving my things went well – the thunder storms abated a bit and that was certainly a welcomed change.  The entire farm was unkempt and somehow a poor bird (actually two birds, but one was deceased) had wandered into the house. When I noticed it, I didn’t even take it to be real. It was eerily still and staring out the window. I grabbed it, brought it outside, and gave it some water. It was so weak it hardly tried to get away from me. That was basically the only noteworthy part of my move. Well, ok, the oats were really nice too, but I think they flooded the day after I left the farm.

Two days later, Thursday, the flight I was taking out of Chicago was originally scheduled to depart at 1930, but ended up being delayed over three hours. I was fretting that the unfortunate delay might be a sign of things to come. Really, things since then have been pretty good. I didn’t get the promised tour around Seattle, but it is still scheduled for the weeks to come. Instead, I was treated to a midnight Jack-In-The-Box hamburger and a half-day long drive from Washington to Idaho the next noon. The drive was peaceful – there are so many trees and mountains in Washington that one cannot help but feel calm.

Somewhere between Seattle, WA and Coeur D’Alene, ID – after the Washington mountains – the beautiful scenery abruptly becomes a desert. It’s strange just how sharp of a transition it is; luckily it just as quickly reverts to greenery.

So, for the next week (or possibly more), I’ll be around northern Idaho. If I see anything noteworthy I’ll make a point to blog. Maybe I’ll even take a few pictures worth sharing.

Specifically, if you are already rooted and looking for this EASY way to get tethering online see the thread here: moment wifi tethering how-to

I’ve personally followed the instruction and everything works without a hitch, although it is currently being *tested* so… ymmv. Many thanks to the guys over at SDX!

In the first place, we should insist that if the immigrant who comes here in good faith becomes an American and assimilates himself to us, he shall be treated on an exact equality with everyone else, for it is an outrage to discriminate against any such man because of creed, or birthplace, or origin. But this is predicated upon the person’s becoming in every facet an American, and nothing but an American…There can be no divided allegiance here. Any man who says he is an American, but something else also, isn’t an American at all. We have room for but one flag, the American flag… We have room for but one language here, and that is the English language.. And we have room for but one sole loyalty and that is a loyalty to the American people.

-Theodore Roosevelt 1907

It is unfortunate, I think, that this quote from Theodore Roosevelt is being forwarded without any kind of discussion or close interpretation. It does not simply stand in support of immigration reform (and I only guess that was what the forwarders’ intended) – if interpreted as appropriate for modern times, as I doubt it should be, it has much stronger implications for all modern American people.

How would you identify someone that was “in every facet” an American by Roosevelt’s definition – one with no divided allegiance and complete loyalty to the American people? Would they buy only American products, speak and think only in English (do you get to pick the language you think in?), invest only in American companies, burn their family heirlooms wherever another flag was present, disassociate themselves with their family history – for, seemingly, these are Roosevelt’s prescriptions.

And if that is what it took… then how many Americans would Roosevelt commend – certainly not the foreign-product-buying kind, employees of or investors in Toyota, Sony, et al., or even customers of American companies that outsourced jobs to reduce costs for the America consumption-addiction. All of these actions, and others, ingrained in modern American life, are certainly highly suspect for anyone claiming to be a Roosevelt-approved American loyalist.

Of course, we must ask ourselves, how many of these (apparently loyalty-subverting) activities were even possibilities over 100 years ago when Roosevelt spoke these words? The answer, certainly, is “very few of them”. The world has changed and America has changed with it. Looking to hundred-year-old quotes for normative advice can only go so far.

If you found these words to be compelling instructions, I am afraid it was only because you did not realize that they do more work against all supposed “actual Americans” than they do in support of tougher immigration laws. If you, in fact, did realize that broader implication, then I am sure you see we have much bigger issues in modern America than how to think about immigration.

I, personally, think that the quote is only worth interpreting within its own time – which leaves it normatively neutered and of simply historical value.

–
Andrew D. Anderson

http://www.AndrewDAnderson.com

The people would be taxed using a flat sales tax for necessary government services, but extra projects would be funded by inflation-indexed rate-capped government bonds. This way debt would be more fine-tuned by individual communities – and the nation would have less chance of overspending (especially on a national level).

Because communities would own patents collectively (granted by the national government), to foster innovation and productivity, large one-time cash awards and honors should be given to innovators. Say 10x the median income. This would ensure people were still excited about innovating, but prevent multi-billion dollar entities, groups, or people from concentrating power. Because local governments and people would benefit from innovators, they would be highly sought after. The local governments would set wages accordingly to keep and attract promising people. This would ensure that mediocrity didn’t run rampant.

Everyone would own arms, and participate in government/community at some level (even if it was just picking up trash in the park). This would make people feel connected with their community, and likely lead to more voluntary government involvement. Decisions at the local level would be made via direct democracy. State and national decisions would be made via representations. The overarching system would be a republic.

Governments would not be able to turn people away, but they could have policies in place to provide very low wages to new members of the community. Children would also become new members of the community when they were able to vote (which should require some type of national test, rather than an age requirement). This should lead to relatively normalized living conditions, and starting wages would not go too low (to deter new members) if people knew it would also affect their children.

I think that under a system like this, people would be guaranteed basic wages, but innovation would still be highly prized. Communities would become meaningful and cohesive, and people would not be making as many decisions while being removed from the effects of those decisions. Power would be with the people – political and economic power, both.

tattered dreams began to creep
i could scarcely think of sleep

i looked about and was not alone
everywhere lie a restless drone

pain escaped in troubled breathes
dismantled wills must acquiesce

told to work and to procreate
distempered men we incarcerate

fear subversion, but not of self
distraction successful, ideal of wealth

failure impossible, self medication
easier to swallow the external delegation

lie still and they will lie too
it’s what society requires all do

eyes closed for restless slumber
just until they call my number

I’m not sure that this makes talking about artificial intelligence more difficult, but it may confuse the picture if not mentioned at the onset of a discussion. It can make the term “computer” somewhat ambiguous to the modern mind – and the object of artificial intelligence potentially elusive. If we inspect the hardware of a machine apart from the software, say, powered off – there would be very little of interest going on. If we took the software apart from the hardware, say, printed out – I think we’d have a hard time finding signs of intelligence then too. Only when the software is coupled with the hardware do interesting things become possible. Even when software can be embedded into hardware, it is easy for the concepts to admit separation. This may simply be due to the familiar organization of modern computers, but it may also be indicative of something more interesting – we should at least keep it in the back of our minds.

For now, at least to start, when discussing computers in relation to intelligence, it seems clear to me that we would do well to always discuss them as a bundle of software and hardware to avoid confusion. Despite the fact that one may install some “intelligent” program along many other programs, every program requires hardware to run. It is all too easy to think of the program itself as the sole cause of certain behavior – it should not be forgotten that the hardware is no less important in manifesting that behavior. So we are on the same page, in all that follows, unless I specify otherwise, when I talk of computers or computing machines, I am referring to a hardware-software couple. I am regarding the machine then, in that sense, as indivisible as a man.