luka

Well-known member
im not interested in computers especially. i never thought im stuck in a video game.
 

luka

Well-known member
but just to be socialable whats the computational fallacy? ive never heard of it
 
but just to be socialable whats the computational fallacy? ive never heard of it

You get out of your depth very quickly with this stuff, don't you?
It's a common cast of mind to believe that any state of matter can necessarily be computed - either by something like massively parallel simulation or by reduction to an algorithm. Our computers are just that good, supposedly. However, the non-locality of spacetime and lack of granularity at the lowest scales (how do you compute the behaviour of something that refuses either to be in some position at a given velocity, or at some velocity in a given position). It's all of that, which would be a problem for a single, solitary electron, but scaled up to the cosmos...?

It literally does not compute. A simulation could never be made convincing to anyone with something as simple as a microscope or even basic curiosity beyond what he immediately encounters. It'd be glitched to fuck in a way that reality is not. The Matrix does nod to this though, to its credit.

Similarly, it seems unlikely that mind can be computed - reduced to an algorithm or manifested in silico. It's a 3.5 billion year old ball of cunning and biochemical who really knows what, computationists are going to really have to sharpen their pencils to get the measure of that one. Some recent research has suggested that ideas may be broadcast in the mind by actual viruslike particles that 'infect' neurons - where do you even begin with stuff like that going on?

There’s this gene, Arc, active in our neurons. It’s essential for cognition and longterm memory in mammals; knockout mice who lack it can’t remember from one day to the next where they left the cheese. It looks and acts an awful lot like something called a gag a “group-specific antigen”, something which codes for the core structural proteins of retroviruses. Like a gag, Arc codes for a protein that assembles into capsids (basically, shuttles containing messenger RNA). These accumulate in the dendrites, cross the synaptic junction in little vesicles: a payload from one neuron to another.

Pastuzyn et al, of the University of Utah, have just shown that Arc is literally an infection: a tamed, repurposed virus that infected us a few hundred million years ago. Apparently it looks an awful lot like HIV. Pastuzyn et al speculate that Arc “may mediate intercellular signaling to control synaptic function”.

Memory is a virus. Or at least, memory depends on one.


Which implies that a disease could spread around the brain through the act of thinking.

It's not important though, as you were.
 
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luka

Well-known member
has it occurred to you that i might be approaching this stuff from a different angle?
 

luka

Well-known member
to put it simply, you read new scientist and 'think' about things. that's legitimate and i dont intend to belittle you for it. it's what you enjoy and it's how you operate. i don't do that. for me it's all experiential. i intersect with god consciousness and i receive the multi-dimensional download packets.
im not saying it's better. it's just a different way of working. :cool:
you do you bro. :cool:
 

Mr. Tea

Let's Talk About Ceps
I might have mentioned this in another thread but I read somewhere that in an early draft of the screenplay, the machines were supposed to have enslaved humanity not to exploit our bodies as an energy resource, but to exploit our minds as a computational resource by linking up billions of human brains into an enormous hypercomputer, a sort of neural internet. Maybe this was intended as a reference to the work by Roger Penrose and others that suggests human brains actually work on a quantum level and are capable of performing information processing in a way that’s impossible, even in principle, for classical computers (i.e. Turing machines).

Why they would do this I don’t know, but maybe it’s for fundamentally the same reasons humans build things like radio telescopes, space probes and hadron colliders.

Anyway I thought it was a really intriguing concept and certainly far more interesting (and plausible) than the frankly braindead idea of using humans as batteries, which the Wachowskis apparently settled on because they thought audiences would be confused by the human-supercomputer idea. And which is so stupid it could be demolished in ten seconds by anyone who passed GCSE physics.
 
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Mr. Tea

Let's Talk About Ceps
There’s this gene, Arc, active in our neurons. It’s essential for cognition and longterm memory in mammals; knockout mice who lack it can’t remember from one day to the next where they left the cheese. It looks and acts an awful lot like something called a gag a “group-specific antigen”, something which codes for the core structural proteins of retroviruses. Like a gag, Arc codes for a protein that assembles into capsids (basically, shuttles containing messenger RNA). These accumulate in the dendrites, cross the synaptic junction in little vesicles: a payload from one neuron to another.

Pastuzyn et al, of the University of Utah, have just shown that Arc is literally an infection: a tamed, repurposed virus that infected us a few hundred million years ago. Apparently it looks an awful lot like HIV. Pastuzyn et al speculate that Arc “may mediate intercellular signaling to control synaptic function”.

Memory is a virus. Or at least, memory depends on one.

Yeah, I remember reading about this research when it first came out. Amazing stuff. Only a whisker away from Burroughs's language-as-a-virus stuff.

Which implies that a disease could spread around the brain through the act of thinking.

Heh, yeah, and I bet there's been a ton of really bad cyberpunk sci-fi about humans getting literally infected by computer viruses and all of that.
 

luka

Well-known member
our jurisdictions dont overlap i dont know what hes worrying about.
i dont want to stop him reading new scientist and watching brian cox documentaries about quantum physics.
 
our jurisdictions dont overlap i dont know what hes worrying about.
i dont want to stop him reading new scientist and watching brian cox documentaries about quantum physics.

I stopped reading New Scientist around 2003 when they cravenly backed the Iraq War. Defanged, centrist, science LARPing. It was all downhill after the Daedalus column moved from NS to Nature.

There’s a sociology of the world of scientists like of everything else. This is a cause of much confusion about biology and ideas of evolution. You think you’ve been given objective truth, but the minds of biologists are in general very limited. The truth is the biggest minds always went for physics among the sciences, then maybe chemistry. Until recently but even now biology gives little opportunity for the kind of thinking that penetrates mystery of nature, the kind of insight into physical relations that attracts the best scientific minds. They’ve been on the whole a half-and-half group in history.

Schopenhauer refers with contempt to the people who have their “catalogues of monkeys” and think they understand nature. Darwin himself, Nietzsche called him a petty mind, the kind of calculator who likes to collect many small facts and synthesize some clumsy theory. The theory is clumsy and full of holes. This is the biggest reason Creationists, who are also wrong, have been able to challenge it, where they were never able to challenge theoretical physics. There is much dishonesty and stupidity among scientists and biologists when they talk about evolution and life (and everything else).

It's fine Luka, it's good and honourable that you know your limitations. You're happy to dwell in delusion, capering monkeylike with the machine elves. Meanwhile... life thunders blissful towards death, in a stampede, as the plates grind and convulse in the vasty deep.
 
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droid

Well-known member
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Have you heard of the wonderful one-hoss shay,
That was built in such a logical way
It ran a hundred years to a day,
And then, of a sudden, it — ah, but stay,
I’ll tell you what happened without delay,
Scaring the parson into fits,
Frightening people out of their wits, —
Have you ever heard of that, I say?

Seventeen hundred and fifty-five.
Georgius Secundus was then alive, —
Snuffy old drone from the German hive.
That was the year when Lisbon-town
Saw the earth open and gulp her down,
And Braddock’s army was done so brown,
Left without a scalp to its crown.
It was on the terrible Earthquake-day
That the Deacon finished the one-hoss shay.

Now in building of chaises, I tell you what,
There is always somewhere a weakest spot, —
In hub, tire, felloe, in spring or thill,
In panel, or crossbar, or floor, or sill,
In screw, bolt, thoroughbrace, — lurking still,
Find it somewhere you must and will, —
Above or below, or within or without, —
And that’s the reason, beyond a doubt,
A chaise breaks down, but doesn’t wear out.

But the Deacon swore (as Deacons do,
With an “I dew vum,” or an “I tell yeou”)
He would build one shay to beat the taown
’N’ the keounty ’n’ all the kentry raoun’;
It should be so built that it couldn’ break daown:
“Fur,” said the Deacon, “’tis mighty plain
Thut the weakes’ place mus’ stan’ the strain;
’N’ the way t’ fix it, uz I maintain,
Is only jest
T’ make that place uz strong uz the rest.”

So the Deacon inquired of the village folk
Where he could find the strongest oak,
That couldn’t be split nor bent nor broke, —
That was for spokes and floor and sills;
He sent for lancewood to make the thills;
The crossbars were ash, from the straightest trees,
The panels of white-wood, that cuts like cheese,
But lasts like iron for things like these;
The hubs of logs from the “Settler’s ellum,” —
Last of its timber, — they couldn’t sell ’em,
Never an axe had seen their chips,
And the wedges flew from between their lips,
Their blunt ends frizzled like celery-tips;
Step and prop-iron, bolt and screw,
Spring, tire, axle, and linchpin too,
Steel of the finest, bright and blue;
Thoroughbrace bison-skin, thick and wide;
Boot, top, dasher, from tough old hide
Found in the pit when the tanner died.
That was the way he “put her through.”
“There!” said the Deacon, “naow she’ll dew!”

Do! I tell you, I rather guess
She was a wonder, and nothing less!
Colts grew horses, beards turned gray,
Deacon and deaconess dropped away,
Children and grandchildren — where were they?
But there stood the stout old one-hoss shay
As fresh as on Lisbon-earthquake-day!

EIGHTEEN HUNDRED; — it came and found
The Deacon’s masterpiece strong and sound.
Eighteen hundred increased by ten; —
“Hahnsum kerridge” they called it then.
Eighteen hundred and twenty came; —
Running as usual; much the same.
Thirty and forty at last arrive,
And then come fifty, and FIFTY-FIVE.

Little of all we value here
Wakes on the morn of its hundreth year
Without both feeling and looking queer.
In fact, there’s nothing that keeps its youth,
So far as I know, but a tree and truth.
(This is a moral that runs at large;
Take it. — You’re welcome. — No extra charge.)

FIRST OF NOVEMBER, — the Earthquake-day, —
There are traces of age in the one-hoss shay,
A general flavor of mild decay,
But nothing local, as one may say.
There couldn’t be, — for the Deacon’s art
Had made it so like in every part
That there wasn’t a chance for one to start.
For the wheels were just as strong as the thills,
And the floor was just as strong as the sills,
And the panels just as strong as the floor,
And the whipple-tree neither less nor more,
And the back crossbar as strong as the fore,
And spring and axle and hub encore.
And yet, as a whole, it is past a doubt
In another hour it will be worn out!

First of November, ’Fifty-five!
This morning the parson takes a drive.
Now, small boys, get out of the way!
Here comes the wonderful one-hoss shay,
Drawn by a rat-tailed, ewe-necked bay.
“Huddup!” said the parson. — Off went they.
The parson was working his Sunday’s text, —
Had got to fifthly, and stopped perplexed
At what the — Moses — was coming next.
All at once the horse stood still,
Close by the meet’n’-house on the hill.
First a shiver, and then a thrill,
Then something decidedly like a spill, —
And the parson was sitting upon a rock,
At half past nine by the meet’n-house clock, —
Just the hour of the Earthquake shock!
What do you think the parson found,
When he got up and stared around?
The poor old chaise in a heap or mound,
As if it had been to the mill and ground!
You see, of course, if you’re not a dunce,
How it went to pieces all at once, —
All at once, and nothing first, —
Just as bubbles do when they burst.

End of the wonderful one-hoss shay.
Logic is logic. That’s all I say.

Ya get me?
 
Don't know if QAnon has crossed your radar, but it's some real Matrixy shit


If you spend all your coffee spoons in the left wing echo chamber, it probably hasn't.
 
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luka

Well-known member
are you insane? of course i fucking know who q is. my dragnet catches everything.
 

Mr. Tea

Let's Talk About Ceps
Don't know if QAnon has crossed your radar, but it's some real Matrixy shit


If you spend all your coffee spoons in the left wing echo chamber, it probably hasn't.

My favourite Qanon prediction was that a video would be released of Hillary Clinton chopping off a child's face and wearing it like a mask.

(Spoiler: it hasn't.)

Edit: but yeah, come on man, anyone who's known luka for more than five minutes should know this stuff is like mother's milk to him.
 
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Mr. Tea

Let's Talk About Ceps
youre interacting with it at the wrong level. it's primarily a generator of synchronicity.
this account gets it.
https://twitter.com/cryptokubrology

Eh...

666 weeks after The Shining released: the '93 WTC bombing.

999 weeks after The Shining released: Eyes Wide Shut released.

666 weeks after Eyes Wide Shut released: the 237th anniversary of the start of the American Revolution.

999 weeks after Eyes Wide Shut: this Friday. Watch.

I can find some value in certain aspects of mysticism on a poetic or aesthetic level, or as a metaphor for certain psychological states, but I've always found numerology pretty lame.
 
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