1: The scientist man on the radio laughs as he suggests that our existence is likely a computer simulation. He raises some compelling arguments about the technological event horizon and the inevitability of a computer powerful enough to simulate our existence. He misses the crux of the argument, though, which is, as usual, who fucking cares? If we’re in a simulation then we are the simulation. We could no more escape or influence it than could an NPC in a video game. And really, why would you want to? “Oh yeah, it turns out your existence was a simulation, but, as it happens, you are only the sum of your experiences anyway, so, there you have it.” A perfect simulation of a thing is the thing, and we are all phantoms screaming towards oblivion.
Fuck you, radio man.
2: Justice is an idea, and law is a construct. Ideas may develop the construct, but outside of the construct they are just an opinion. It is not romantic, but buying into it is the only thing that keeps us all from doing as we please. It is important to remember that, as cool as Batman is, he is basically a psychotic power fantasy. I can’t push this guy into the traffic no matter how much I hate his t-shirt.
There is no justice.
3: I am increasingly terrified of young people as I get older. This is because I can’t just run them down with my car. I am supposed to know better. And they know that I’m supposed to know better. Slags. One day you’ll have too much stake in society to run over people who intimidate you, then we’ll see who’s laughing, You might lose your hair as well.
I hope so.
4: By the time we have commercially available flying cars, we will already have developed the technology to make a human pilot utterly redundant.
This is why I drink.
5: What if I’m lifting all these weights and I never have the opportunity to hammer throw a terrorist through a window? Worse, what if I do get the opportunity, but freeze, and some other person gets there before me, and is a hero? “Oh, I just did what anyone would do,” he or she would say. “Providing they lifted enough weights and weren’t a coward. An utter coward.” Then he or she would look at me. Right at me.
How did they know?