Sponcon

I don’t want the screen-and-subscription based future but do I have a choice? Today, I can still opt-out of surveillance like TSA face scans but how long before that’s mandatory to fly in the US?

N+1 Magazine Fall 2024

This stuff has been on my mind a lot lately so when I read Laura Preston’s article in n plus one titled: An Age Of Hyperabundance: At the conversational AI conference.

The vacuousness she describes alongside incredible minds is a contrast I’m familiar with. One where only positivity and impactful results are touted on PowerPoint slides and at event booths where you can also collect pens from any company in the area. Profound and mundane. We’ve seen this before now that we’re about a quarter of the way into the 21st century.

Beneath this promised future, however, was a shadow future, one that suggested itself at every turn. This was a future of screens in every establishment and no way to get help, a future in which extractive algorithms yielded relentless advertising, a future of a crapified internet, too diluted with sponcon and hallucinated facts to be of any use. In this future, if you wanted to use a product you would have to download an app and pay a monthly fee. It was a future of ultra-sophisticated scams and government surveillance, a future where anyone’s face could be spliced into porn. Our arrival in this future would be a gradual surrender, achieved through a slow creep of terms and conditions, and the capitulations had already begun.

So when will Canary Speech be rolled into Microsoft Teams so that it can monitor hundreds of millions of employees? If it is used to do a ‘health audit that breaks down the user’s mood, energy, anxiety, and degree of depression, and identify pre-Parkinson’s traits, as well as early signs of Alzheimer’s’ does that mean the software would be running in the background of every MS teams conversation? Where is that written into the Terms and Conditions? Would I even know how it’s referenced? Jesus fucking Christ.

It’s disheartening to say that least but not at all surprising based on the last 30 years of internet, big tech, legal corporate blah-dee-blah behavior and our current oligarchy. The only way to change is to pay closer attention to who’s got the biggest stake in the conversational AI game.

The author goes on to articulate what I’ve been feeling which is this:

“…(it) all had an odious whiff of physiognomy and race science. It was the same logic that compelled white men to fashion their avatar’s face as the ghostly average of non-Caucasian women, a de facto stereotype, like some Victorian eugenicist’s photography experiment.”

There are no guardrails with most technology in 2024. Sure you have accountability in the form of large settlements but that becomes the cost of doing business, almost everyone builds it into the balance sheet.

When Ms. Peterson writes: “It all suggested a future of ineptitude, where everyone was a brand instrument disguised as a resource.”, I’m nodding my head in agreement. But what do we do about the pervasive hyped-up, Uber-dude, tech show?

The good news is that this stuff isn’t quite baked but that’s the bad news, too. We become unwilling testers and the beat goes on.

OMG WTF FIX UX

If you’re someone touching the design of online privacy stuff, do not let this happen to you. This absolutely takes my breath away – and not in a #goodexperience kind of way. I *get* the intention but can anyone say over engineered? We went from giving all our data away unknowingly to giving it away out of sheer frustration.

Our policies spill out onto screens so dense that no one pauses to read – nor would it matter if one did. Much of it is unverifiable and most of our days are too short on time.

Our org charts are on every about us page known to the internet but do they actually help us? Some are actually fake and those are before OpenAI gave us Sam Altman or vice versa, I can’t tell anymore. If someone codes an algorithm, isn’t it going to reflect their – everything? It cannot be unbiased and we know that from some of the women who told us.

Strap in folks, we’re headed for some weird times. Don’t forget we’re all here, for each other, there is no god waiting somewhere else for us, it is us, we are that as long as anyone believes this guy knows of ‘god‘. Nope, no fucking way. Not when so many good guys are gone. He – god is always he – is you guys*, how about that?

RIP: Don, Sarah, Scott, CT

Take cover

Take cover! That’s what my brain told my body sometime after 1am last night. Pop pop pop. I pop pop popped into the interior hallway faster than a startled cat. Before I was awake enough to reconsider the whole situation, I peed and went back to bed. Cat came back onto the bed from his bunker underneath. This morning Reddit reminded me of the incident and confirmed it was fireworks being set off on the corner of the two closest main streets.

One thing I like about living here is the sense of community. We may not all be BBQing and drinking beer together but we’ll be looking out. Especially in my zip code. Still defiant up here on the hillside.

Take cover the bombs and the bullets, take time to heal your wounds.

Welcome to my broken car, it don’t go fast but it goes so far…

Take cover from my own bombs, my own bullets. I am not faring well in this war. The drill sergeant – JFC this guy – is terrible and takes it out on me. I’m no match for him dammit. Never really have been. The outside noise is way too much so he ends up taking over and telling me I know nothing and have nothing to offer and worse, sound like a dumb ass who has no business opening the pie hole. I bet he was even harder on my friend but I’ll never find out more, that friend died too dammit.

Take cover from the shame and the darkness, it’s time to look up, be one with stardust. The reality is, everything is fucking fine. As long as there is still money in the bank after all the bills are paid, that’s pretty much it. I do wish for a steady connection to – however menial – daily tasks that contribute to a system working better for people (aka: a job). But I do not even want to fuck with my LinkedIn or resume or website again.

Take cover in the fog, go wander in the cloud, appreciate the mist on your face, dew on flower petals and spider webs. Can’t buy that feeling. I take nothing for granted here in the 93109.

Mind tricks

The mind, mine anyway, likes to play tricks on itself. It ruminates and says silly things. It can’t absorb that some people are gone. It seems to refuse to believe facts. Death. Now that’s irrefutable.

Can’t believe you’re gone. Hate that I can’t share silly internet things and joke about things no one else finds funny.

I hope you departed knowing how much you meant to so many. I’ll only speak for myself here because you and I crossed paths when I was in a rough place, just trying to come home. I made it back because you had a soft place for me to land. I’ll never be able to express how you likely helped save my life. And that’s not me being dramatic, it’s true, I was so fucked up – still am! – and you didn’t judge, you became one of my favorite people. And I’m here because you were here and now you’re not and I’m just so fucking sad.

(I really did wanna build a tiny house on Big Lou’s property).

The socials are just bad

The bottom line is that social shit in 2024 is bad. All. Bad. It scrambles brains, revises nervous systems and has laid bare the worst of the worst human behaviors. When I extract myself fully, I’m much better off. But when I’m in an ‘active account’ phase, I feel like crap.

Active account phase is what I’ve now come to refer to it as because I’ve created, deactivated, and deleted Facebook so many times I’ve lost count, IG is an original account that’s gone through active/inactive phases, LinkedIn has been in the same mode as IG and the bottom line is: I fucking loathe them all. High school in a pocket-sized computer.

Today I popped into my current FB account and within seconds I felt like a left out piece of shit when I saw post from my first house. Someone had visited the location because it was my parents’ first home together, too. I wished I’d been included in the sharing of a picture of the tiles of the street number. Silly, I know. But I’m feeling lonely, disconnected and raw so it hit that frayed nerve.

My first street address

The real reason it hit the nerve is because I only wanted a little house here in my California location. I didn’t stand up for myself. I let other forces take me on some dumb ride that hasn’t turned out so well. I wish someone had told me it was not wrong to want the things I wanted. And to grieve them now isn’t that fucking surprising. It’s lousy that I’ve let it steal my energy, focus, investment and general level of giving-a-shit but right now that’s what’s happening. Acceptance. It’s what’s for dinner.