In studying human behaviour and its relation to higher cortex functions two schools of thought have developed. Those adhering the connectivism school believe that the actions of all living things are determined by the networks between separate “units” or compartments within the brain, and given the right amount of neurons between them distinguishes the activation of certain functions. This reduces complex human behaviour to little more than a series of predetermined and limited actions. Given the proper amount of neutrons linked in a certain manner- x, y and z will occur. On the other side of the argument are the computationalists, who believe that actions are determined not by an underlying brain structure, but by our manipulation of neurons to produce separate and distinct functions. In this event we can choose to allow z to follow z to follow x if we so desire.
Of course you all must be wondering…how does this relate to zombies?
It’s been argued for a while now that zombies are subject to coarse intrinsic brain functions which propel them to eat human flesh; it would appear that most people who consider the science of zombies are in fact connectavists. I too held this line, but extended it a little deeper to incorporate allowances for other emotions, or “emotion like” phenomena, subject to a limited and decomposing instinct. However modern zombies now have a tendency to exhibit other manifestations of more refined cybernetics, comprising of systems control (most notably visual, auditory and olfactory systems) and logic modelling (determined task orientation). For this to be true there must be a sort of internal manipulation of separate brain function to produce varied outcomes dependant on the circumstances.
It is common for zombies to continue to associate in some manner with their past life; this routine behaviour is the bread and butter of the connectivists. However the ability for a zombie to use old tools in new and gory ways is an argument for computationalism. A zombified baseball player who uses a baseball bat which they utilized in life, to pry open fences in order to get at fresh human tissue and then bludgeon their victim, is an example for problem solving, or taking several factors into consideration and using the means available to accomplish a specific task. The fact that the task is predetermined and that the zombie themselves has no say over the reasons for completion of the task, only the method in which it is completed, is of no concern. There still appears to be a level of computation on behalf of Scary Bonds as he attempts to gorge himself on human flesh.
So depending on what you believe will determine where you place that final bullet (before the one reserved for yourself that is) as the monstrous corpse of you college roommate bears down on you as you cower in a corner. If you’re a connectivist you will aim for the brain stem which controls gross motor skills guided by hardwired networks in their rotting brain. If you’re a computationalist you will fire into their frontal lobes to splatter their reasoning and decomposing faculties all over the wall.
I guess you only get one chance to prove which one is right….better choose wisely, that is of course if its not already pre determined for you :)
Yeah blog metrics
Building on the success of my girlfriend who authored a genre-bending report about female participation on the blogospher, I thought I’d dissect my own readership. There’s a couple of interesting things.
They hate reading on weekends. I think that most of my readers must work because they log on during work hours throughout the work week. I guess I’m okay with the fact that I can’t compete with their leisure time, but boy am I stoked about being viewed at the expense of their employer! Take that companies!
24.08% of my readers are pissed off by the fact that I don’t report on up to date El Chupacabra sightings. Too bad for you suckers! If you’ve already seen one and are searching for others with similar experiences you’re already dead. Because if Chuppy doesn’t get you, it’s a bad omen of things to come.
0.18% of my readers were searching the word “labia” on google and came across my site. That’s the same percentage of viewers who found my site by searching my best friend’s name. Also interesting, my best friend searches for labia all the time, and sadly he gets it zero percent of the time.
My profile pic of little kids smoking is almost as popular as anything I write. 46.72% of those who view my sight is because they did a google images search of that pic. Take that little kids, as if the lung cancer you’re bound to get by smoking at age 7 isn’t bad enough, people like my stupid blog more than you.
I’m a hit in Latin American countries. Well sort of….actually I’m bigger in Europe, to be honest, but those stuck up fucks are visiting for the wrong reasons, like whenever I post about enlightenment philosophers and talk about feelings. Who searches that shit? Type in “giant douche is always confused” and you’re bound to find my blog. Those vatos down in Latin America got it right; they find my blog when I talk about monsters and human sacrifice, that’s my best shit anyways.
Only one person has ever found my blog by searching zombies, I’m disappointed to be honest. As the worlds foremost expert on the paranormal, a lot of my time is spent discussing the Undead, and unfortunately I attract these pissy Europeans looking for advice on love, or people who misspell parts of the female anatomy.
Maybe this is premature
I was wondering what is to become of our soul when we die.
Now this isn’t the same Dogma argument that Ben Affleck and Matt Damon went over, like how much of myself will I retain and what will actually accompany me to heaven. It’s more through out the history of man kind when we all, on the day of rapture, arrive in heaven how will the lapse in time effect us.
So say the most primitive of humans wind up in heaven, they should retain their soul, after all it was the goodness of that soul that got them there in the first place. So that soul, unique to them, will in theory be vastly different from the soul of a yet to be born futuristic do-gooder who also makes it into heaven. What happens to our souls as we wait for heaven? Tones of time could pass; do they evolve with the current state of humanities soul? If not, will we be confronted in heaven by souls so vastly different from our own so as to be unrecognizable as human?
I know some people will wonder how I’m mixing evolution and God in one post, but there has to be some adaptation of the nature of our souls. The earliest human had different restraints and pressure born out of an innate need to survive. Our souls succumb to different pressures crafted largely from the quest for luxury and the toll it takes on our mind body and spirit to achieve them. Are the stresses we put on our souls innately different, have we changed or conditioned them in separate ways? Are the choices we make in the face of innovation creating new paths for our souls to take, or does it always boil down to two choices; good and evil?
I’d hate to be on the forefront of human ingenuity, reveling in new breakthroughs of emotional intelligence and soul development, only to die and wake up stone aged by comparison to some futuristic individual who has perfected the cultivation of a proper soul. However I doubt there’s much room for lording over one another in heaven.
I suppose this is cyclical
So I’ve started reading about myths. Not of monsters or gremlins or my usual stuff, but myths that we as a people collectively believe about ourselves. As Canadians, for better or worse, we have them. When times our tough they’re used to galvanize people against impossible odds, rising inflation, war in far away lands, the Leafs about to get bumped from a playoff spot. We believe that we once rose above impossible circumstances way back when we were fur traders in frigid winters in hostile and foreign lands, and now we summon that same spirit to ride out tough times. We even extend it to our new neighbours, immigrants from far and wide who are now on foreign soil and in a bewildering wilderness. We are unified by the fact that we’re all newcomers and that we share a common experience. We believe this about ourselves and it gives comfort.
So I’ve started to think about the myths I have about myself, either born of my own imagination or overheard when people don’t realize I know that they’re gossiping about me. I feel that I’m caring and sensitive, enigmatic and quirky. Some say I’m manipulative and cunning, selfish and cruel. I suppose the truth lies somewhere in the middle, but often I don’t know what to believe about myself. How can someone as self-centered as myself be that genuine and caring? Or how could I be inclusive and empowering when I’m a control freak?
I don’t know what ideal of myself I need to channel and when I do it’s often at the wrong time. I’m task oriented when I should just listen, I’m touchy feely in stressful situations. I take the wrong cues from everywhere and have the exact opposite response that socialization dictates I should have. I suppose the reality is I’m confused.
Am I supposed to be at peace with that? Is certainty only important in dire situations? Or does unbridled passion and negligence allow some excitement in the face of certainty?
Google it, it's true
Ok this is weird, Bollywood actress Aishwarya Rai married a tree to overcome the astrological discrepancies between her and her fiancé. She believed that she was cursed and the only way to break the spell was to marry a banana or a peeple tree. WTF?
It gets worse; the Indian government is now charging her for participating in an ancient custom that’s demeaning to women. So on top of some nasty dendrophelia (thanks “Can’t Hardly Wait”) there’s this absurd state paternalism dictating what she can and can’t do with her body.
Because of her spiritual connection with the tree (no word on if they did it yet or not) she demanded that the tree was a witness in the case. Refusing to allow the state to uproot this “newly wed” tree they had to go on a field trip to the damn thing. Upon questioning from the prosecutor the tree plead the fifth. This infuriated the court, as money was spent on taking the judge, jury, court reporter etc to the tree.
Maybe I’m missing the cultural significance or something but why the hell did the court entertain such a request? I know she’s hot an all, but this is really weird.
On a similar note, my friend came over to my parents’ house drunk as shit. He was talking about a girl at work that was harassing him and he really didn’t like her. He said he’d fuck a tree before ever getting with this girl. Then he turned to my little bro and said “Do you any good trees around here with holes?”
Life is a highway... littered with dead cats and construction dirt
Just an update about how things have changed on the farm. Came home to visit and several things have caught my attention.
First of all my "puppy" Sam has grown like a mofo and is now a teenager and horny and wild as hell. The stupid thing started attacking me and he tripped me and I fell face first into a bush and I got all muddy. Then the asshole started biting my face while I spilled my coffee all over myself. Jerk.
Also strange is how my town is growing. They're building a new addition on my old high school, and there's model homes everywhere because of all the development that's going on. All the posted speed limits have been reduced as farm land is swallowed up by zoning changes. Its was weird to drive through and see how it's transformed.
I also got to drive my car in the first time in long while. I gave it to my little bro because I could never find parking by my apartment downtown. It was nice to cycle through the gears and let'er dangle like old times. My brother even fixed the radio and it was the first time in like three years that I could listen to music in my own car. It was great, I thought about the strange attachment of music and memory, hope, regret and especially guilt. I find it weird that I find sad songs triumphant, I guess when you come out on the other side it's sort on an accomplishment.
I wanted to keep driving, I thought to hell with the price of gas. I thought of the pace at which music is developed and how a song can go from top 40 to cheesy elevator ambience in a month. The internet can take you from rags to riches and back again quicker then my piece of shit car can hit 60. But its fun none the less, flash in pan or pushing 300k, its all good with me.
