Sometimes just looking at birds makes me realize how patently absurd they look with their amputated torsos. I wonder if they think mammals queer with the superfluous appendages, so useless for flight.
No legs, they walk, not ever stopping.
No eyes, they stare, the blinkless blind.
No hearts, their blood runs cold in circles.
No mind; no mind to step aside
and stop and breathe and rest.
The tourist, that most beneficial pest.
Is this to keep the bikes in or to keep the humans out? A silly question – or is it?
It is.
Draining the color is justified this time by the atmosphere of decay and lifelessness in this building. It was designed by Julia Morgan, who also designed Hearst Castle down the coast. Like all big buildings meant for large numbers, it never feels empty. Instead, when nobody is there, there is a dense crowd of nonpeople, like a Dirac sea of people suddenly drained. The long hallways will look carnivorous, the peeling, dirty paint take on a melancholy shady and reflect the words not spoken and the unheard laughter back onto the visitor.
Or so I say.
Richard Dawkins argues that religion is like biological and digital viruses, spreading from mind to mind, epidemically. Unlike science, which Dawkins likens to nonviral software, religion spreads not because people willfully accept its ideas, but because these ideas carry a “Copy Me!” command.
While I like his description of the spread of ideas as an epidemic, and the notion that complexes of ideas, just like complexes of genes, will tend to spread together if they favour each other, I think the fundamental thrust of his argument, which tries to taint religion by likening it to disease, is flawed.
As he readily admits, the phenomenology of the spread of scientific ideas is indistinguishable from that of any other belief system. The difference, Dawkin’s argues, is that science adheres to empirical testing, while religion does not. But that alone establishes a perfect symmetry, where the zealot could triumphantly cry “exactly! and that’s why religion is superior. Quia absurdum!”
The problem with religion is not that it’s an attractive set of mutually enforcing beliefs that spreads through populations of minds – that’s true for science, as well. It’s that these beliefs claim jurisdiction over empirical matters, when at their very core is a disdain for empirical process.
In short, not the viral form of religion, but its content, is what should bring us in opposition. Its virulence just makes it a more formidable and frustrating enemy.
When we moved into our Toronto apartment in early december, we found a pigeon had already moved in before. There were two chicks in the “nest”, so we decided to let them be. The quotes are there to signify to disparity between the mental image of a bird’s nest and the crude heap of birdshit, twigs and dirt that they scrambled together.
We observed the chicks growing up through a window, and it seemed that one of them was a bit stronger than the other. It started pushing the other away when food was served. The size difference grew, and one day we found the smaller one dead and pushed out of the “nest”. Which, combined with Tak’s story, makes me think that this is a fairly common occurence in urban pigeons.
We removed the dead bird (alas, no burial. Down the chute it went), and let the other one grow up before I went in in protective gear (That smell is something else) and removed the mess.
And if you’ve ever wondered why there is no pigeon babies anywhere: the young was almost fully grown before it dared the jump off our balcony for the first time. But even though it looked like a real pigeon at that point, it remained fairly clueless, as the above picture shows.
In North Berkeley, along Shattuck, stretches the collection of fancy shops, nice restaurants and upscale knickknackeries known as Gourmet Ghetto. On a normal, sunny day, the patrons of the Cheeseboard Collective will populate the grassy median of this busy road, to gobble down their high quality vegetarian organic superpizza. Even the signs they have conquered, to spell their minds.
Just across the street is Chez Panisse, the legendary and legendarily expensive upper crust cafe. Someday I will go there, to their downstairs section, where things are more moderately priced and a tad less glam.
In the meantime, I’ll get my lunch at Jimmy Beans in Haas business school, a greasy Cajun chicken sandwich with a bit of Cesar salad. And while I’m in the throng of overdressed nasties waiting for my grub, I’ll hear one of them answering the rhetorical howareyou with “Pretty well. Our clients just took us out for lunch to Chez Panisse and served some Champagne. They’re pretty cool.”
Not that I really think I’m in the wrong business, but am I?
It’s a widely held belief these days that the world we perceive results as much from objects affecting our sense organs as it does from our brain imposing preformed categories on the sensory input, according to some probabilistic or statistical scheme. So a bunch of completely independent contrast boundaries becomes an outline, because it’s unlikely boundary fragments would align if they were not part of some common shape. And once our visual system has connected the lines, the shapes resulting from that trigger yet another inference system, that supposes that anything that looks like a face in all likelihood is one. And thus a robot stares at out you from a collection of 36 image tiles that are not robotlike at all.
Nacht, aussen. Buntes Licht im Schee. Sirene.
Lautsprecherstimme: Get out of the traffic and park your car.
Ein Schnauzbartträger steigt aus der Highway Patrol Wagen. Der virtuelle Schnauzträger am Steuer des gestoppten Wagens lässt die Scheibe runter.
Schnauz: Get out of your car. You know why you got pulled over? For speeding. I need your license.
virtueller Schnauz: steigt aus. Speeding? Händigt den Führerschein aus.
S: scharf That’s what I said. I didn’t stutter. Sit on the passenger side.
V: schluckt, steigt ein
S: Where are you headed?
V: The Bay Area.
S: Do you have any idea what the speed limit is on this road under chain conditions?
V: Err.
S: It’s obvious you don’t, you don’t give a damn. What do you think the speed limit might be?
V: Well, I thought it would be whatever is reasonable to drive under these conditions.
S: You think it might be 65?
V: schaut aus dem Fenster, wo ein Schild mit einer 65 drauf am Strassenrand steht, wittert die Falle. No.
S: Have you ever been an officer?
V: ?
S: schärfer Have you ever been an officer?
V: No.
S: Well, I have been an officer for 23 years. Have you been at the site of an accident?
V: Err. No.
S: I have been. I have seen cars like yours tipped over. How fast were you going just now.
V: Err, probably something like…
S: 52 maybe?
V: Err.
S: Do you think you might have been going 52 miles an hour?
V: I guess so.
S: Would you be surprised if I told you that the speedlimit on this road is 30 miles an hour right now?
V: gulp
S: That’s right. Did you see me driving along at 40 miles?
V: kleinlaut Yes.
S: Did that make you think?
V: unverständlich
S: When I was flashing my lights at you? Did that give you any ideas?
V: stammelnd Err, I didn’t, wasn’t, I thought, err. No.
S: Nickt zufrieden That’s quite obvious. You know why we close this road? It’s because of people like you in big SUVs, who think they are safe. Caltrans wanted us to reopen the pass, because it has been closed for so long.
V: guckt wie ein Schaf I didn’t see any signs.
S: nickt grimmig Yes, they’re all snowed over. pausiert kurz If I gave you a ticket not, it’s for dangerous driving. That’s 300 dollars.
V: guckt wie eine Schafherde
S: Did I make a point?
V: Mäh!
S: Excuse me?
V: Yes. A whole bunch of points, actually.
S: I hope so. We don’t want to see you hurt, or your lady, or other people. Gibt den Führerschein zurück. Obey the speedlimit.
V: Yes. I will. Have a good night. Steigt aus und stapft durch den Schnee zurück zum SUV.
