The Fundamental Fysiks Group

These crazy cats, though:

“The Fundamental Fysiks Group was founded in San Francisco in May 1975 by two physicists, Elizabeth Rauscher and George Weissmann, at the time both graduate students at the University of California, Berkeley. The group held informal discussions on Friday afternoons to explore the philosophical implications of quantum theory. Leading members included Fritjof CapraJohn Clauser, Philippe Eberhard, Nick HerbertJack Sarfatti, Saul-Paul Sirag, Henry Stapp, and Fred Alan Wolf.[1]

David Kaiser argues, in How the Hippies Saved Physics: Science, Counterculture, and the Quantum Revival (2011), that the group’s meetings and papers helped to nurture the ideas in quantum physics that came to form the basis of quantum information science.[2] Two reviewers wrote that Kaiser may have exaggerated the group’s influence on the future of physics research, though one of them, Silvan Schweber, wrote that some of the group’s contributions are easy to identify, such as Clauser’s experimental evidence for non-locality attracting a share of the Wolf Prize in 2010, and the publication of Capra’s The Tao of Physics (1975) and Zukav’s The Dancing Wu Li Masters (1979) attracting the interest of a wider audience.[3]

Kaiser writes that the group were “very smart and very playful”, discussing quantum mysticism and becoming local celebrities in the Bay Area’s counterculture. When Francis Ford Coppola bought City Magazine in 1975, one of its earliest features was on the Fundamental Fysiks Group, including a photo spread of Sirag, Wolf, Herbert, and Sarfatti.[4]”

(Source: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fundamental_Fysiks_Group)

My Review Of The ASUS ROG Strix GL703GM-EE063T 17.3-Inch FHD 120 Hz with 3 ms Screen Gaming Laptop (Black) (Intel i7-8750H Processor, 8 GB RAM, 128 GB PCI-E SSD + 1 TB HDD, NVidia GTX 1060 6 GB, Windows 10)

I don’t doubt the gaming calibre of the latop; it’s all there. What I do doubt is that anyone could use it as a daily PC without being driven insane by the (stereo) fans. From the get go, this machine was like standing behind an RB211 and that was with it doing nothing. Literally nothing, all apps shut. As soon as you fire up a browser, you’re caught up in even more noise and there’s a little old lady threatening to get you and your little dog too.

I went into the settings. I switched the fans into what Asus egregiously call ‘silent’ mode. Hey, Asus, if that’s silent then I’m a gherkin. I went online, SURELY people aren’t putting up with this fan noise, there must be a hack, some kind of BIOS setting I’d missed or peekypokey work-around.

Nope. The most helpful post suggested wearing headphones whilst playing games.

Look, with the Nvidia and the 120Hz and the RGB blah blah, there’s no doubt this is capable of delivering solid gaming performance but I cannot recommend this machine for any other purpose than playing a very loud game. With headphones on.

I’ve since returned this machine to Amazon and am typing this review on it’s replacement: a Lenovo P71. Boring, no RGB. BUT it is absolutely whisper quiet as I’m typing this, my central heating is way louder. Waaay better trackpad too.

tl;dr AUNTIE EM! AUNTIE EM!

Tory Regrets Removing Legal Aid For Himself

Nigel Evans – “DOH!”

Tory MP Nigel Evans spent his life savings defending himself in court, after voting to reduce legal aid spending by 40 per cent, and is now calling for a reversal of the decision.
He said he would now vote against the cuts brought in by the Conservative/Lib Dem coalition, after false accusations of rape and sexual assault over a 10-year period forced him to spend £130,000 in legal fees.

(Source: Joe Co)

The basic problem with all Tories is that they have zero empathy. They only understand suffering if *they* directly experience it.

If they’re okay, fuck anyone who’s not, that’s their fault. If they’re not okay, everyone should help them. It’s a weapons-grade solipsism.

It’s also a uniquely childish mindset socialists leave behind around the age of 7 or so. Nice children know how to share.

Truth Is Where You Find It, Not Just Where You Bump And Grind It

“Superheroes are part of your brainless desire to replace true experience with simulation. You don’t talk, you watch talk shows. You don’t play games, you watch game shows. Travel, relationships, risk; every meaningful experience must be packaged and delivered to you to watch at a distance so that you can remain ever-sheltered, ever-passive, ever-ravenous consumers who can’t free themselves to rise from their couches, break a sweat, and participate in life.”


Screenslaver from Incredibles 2 or Marcuse… you decide…

David Plumbob, Straight White Male Middle-Class Master Photographer

CLOSE UP OF PLUMBOB WEARING OLD CLOTHES EVEN THOUGH HE IS RICHER THAN GOD:

PLUMBOB: I had a normal childhood, mansion, servants, you know, the usual. At university, I developed a real passion for photography… well, actually, it was for big boobs. I loved taking photos of big boobs. But I noticed, hey, no one is giving me props for this. I wanted to be up there with all the famous masters, I wanted to be acclaimed!

So, I whipped out my Amex Platinum card and booked myself a one-way ticket to some of the nicest hotels in the poorest countries of the world. It was gruelling for me, working sometimes two or three hours a day, having to mix with all kinds of weird, non-white, non-Western people. God, those fuckers are weird. But they make great subjects! 

What I learned on that first trip is the great skill it takes to remove all humanity from a subject, to make them a stereotype of the “ethnic.” You have to do extreme close ups, make sure it’s really, really unflattering. Exclude anything Western, like, make sure you take their cellphone off them, that is essential. Your goal here is to make a photo that a British Army officer could have taken during 1900 – 1920. Make the subject as powerless and objectified as possible, remove any hint of agency. 

You want to create photos that make the white viewer feel comfortably superior to the subject. You want to create that colonial glow in the viewer so try to get scenes that fit in with that narrative, like “tribal dances” (make sure they take off their Nikes first, lol!) or an old lady petting a yak or a baby with flies all over its face, looking near death. All that good stuff that will win you a photojournalism prize. 

Needless to say, black and white only, on film and preferably on a Leica that costs more than the subject country makes in a year. If you do shoot digital, make sure it’s on some weird old camera no-one else can get and have one of your assistants transfer it all to medium format before making Polaroids which you then display on a Game Boy Advance screen and take photos of that. 

On your Leica. 

In black and white. 

You Want A 1996-Themed Alternative Music Card? You Got It!

Just in case the tweet disappears, here’s the card that Emma Jackson (yes, THAT Emma Jackson!) found:

I reckon it was compiled from Mark And Lard playlists of 1996 as that’s a pretty wild mixture of bands / styles.

Seeing White Town on it is really very, very strange!

EDIT!!!

This just in from Emma herself:

Which is even better as I swear I don’t remember being in a John Peel Festive Fifty ever… though Crimbo of ’96 is when I was signing to EMI so everything was completely mental back then.

The Corruptive Power Of The Female-Presenting Nipple

Friends…

Last week I was an upstanding citizen. I went to work, I paid my taxes, Church twice on Sunday. 

But then, just a few days ago, I saw…

A FEMALE-PRESENTING NIPPLE

Now, I don’t know if the nipple was owned by a boy or a girl. I only know that it presented as female. What do I mean by this? Well, I’m not quite sure but, at the same time, I know exactly what I mean. Y’know… female-presenting. 

An hour after seeing this female-presenting nipple, I went on a ram-raiding spree. I knocked over fifteen sub post offices, three ATMs and a doughnut hut. 

Then I murdered, like, LOADS of people. Like…. LOADS. 

Even worse, I went round the skips at the back of Tescos and mixed all the recycling together with the non-recycling. 

YUP I DID IT

All of this, all this horror could have been prevented if only Tumblr had stepped up earlier and prevented me from seeing this fleshy derailer, this midget gem of malevolence, Satan’s radio tuner… THE FEMALE-PRESENTING NIPPLE!!!

Will no-one think of the children? 

The Dream In Which I Invented A New Synthesis UI With The Aid Of Teri Garr and Robert Vaughn

By my standards, this was a pretty ordinary dream. The only thing that makes it stand out is the synthesis part. Well, and my co-inventers but they aren’t really real in the way that an idea can be real although it was dreamt.

Teri Garr is still alive so it’s possible she could have been in my dream through some kind of telepathic link but Robert Vaughn passed away in 2016. While I’ll maybe stretch to telepathy with living people, communicating with the spirit realm is a stretch for a good old fashioned dialectical materialist like me.

In the dream, Vaughn was Napoleon Solo-aged and Garr was pretty much as she appears in the Star Trek episode ‘Assignment Earth.’ But they weren’t their characters, they were just themselves, chatting as actors do about various acting gigs, the perils of local theatre and who was a Method bore.

I was entranced just to be in the same room with them. Thinking back, the room was very TOS-like; grey walls, weird polygonal desk for no reason, the mise-en-scene was very Trek. 

On the table in front of us is a tray. It’s about one metre by seventy-five cm. The edge is lipped to contain what appears to be thousands of gems. When I pick one up, it’s about the shape and size of a Pez but with straight sides at the ends, a point instead of a curve. One face is shiny, silver, metallic. The other is a translucent gemstone. There are various colours of gem and, I now notice, various colours on the tray. Between the zones, there are no hard lines, rather gradations and sometimes subtle stripings of colour.

Garr urges me to move some of the VCO gems around. Then I realise that one of the green piles of gems was the same colour as its base which is labelled ‘VCO 1’. Being a East Coast synthesis sort, I grab a handful of gems and plonk them in an area marked ‘LFO 1.’ Then I touch a the lip of the tray which, somehow, I know is the equivalent of pressing a key on a normal synth. 

Woah! Vibrato! But not much… hmmmm… I take some more VCO gems and plonk them in the LFO area. More depth! AHA! But how the hell do I change the frequency of the LFO or the waveform? I notice that both the LFO and VCO areas have waveforms inscribed in certain areas, sawtooth, square, squiggly. I move some of the LFO gems into the sawtooth area… ahhhh… the vibrato changes to a more squarey stridulation. I’m getting well into this – what else can I heap and where?

It’s at this point of the dream that I’m basically pushing gems all over the place, swirling them with my finger and delighting in what comes out. I’ve gone full West Coast now, NO RAGRETS.

And then… seriously… the synth makes the Emergency Phone noise from The Man From UNCLE. Yes, my brain did this to me.

So, I turn to Robert Vaughn and say, “Hey, it’s that sound from the Man From… oh my god… it’s you! You’re Napoleon Solo!” He looks a little embarrassed and Teri giggles. 

It’s then that my stupid brain makes me realise I am, in fact, naked in a thin dressing gown and my knackers are on full view of these two fantastic actors. Soooo, inevitably, I wake out of my beautiful synthesis dream. 

But what do you think of the interface, eh? It’s doable, isn’t it? We could do it now, virtually, in something like Microsoft’s Hololens. And I’m pretty sure we could do it in real life. If every gem contained an RFID and the table was continuously scanning for their position. I would even add in variables like height-from-table or heat? Anything to give more ways to control the variables. If you weighted them differently, you could sort them quite simply, too, just pour the tray into a sorter. 

Please, someone, make my synth dream come true!

More Racist Shenanigans

I was out in Mosh again last night, having a lovely emo time. I was with a couple of friends and another had gone to the bar.

He came back with Racist David in tow. Yes, Racist David who thinks this is the height of comedy -> 

I was dumbfounded. When I’d flagged his bullshit up, he never once tried to apologise or even backpedal on his hate-peddling. If he had even once said, ‘Oh, sorry, I totally shouldn’t have posted that’ or ‘it was a stupid mistake, I don’t really find it funny’ then I would have been fine. We ALL make mistakes, we ALL say stupid shit that we instantly regret but we OWN IT like adults. And we apologise and try not to be such a dick in the future.

But not Racist David. He was totally okay with what he’d liked. It was funny! Consequently, I was cast as the “touchy Asian” who should really learn how to take a joke.

Obviously, 90% of the white people I knew from Mosh, people who I thought were okay, sided with the racist. Because, that’s what white people do with racism: they support it. Hey, how else do you think it keeps going? White people with racism are like men with patriarchy – they enable it, they benefit from it and they defend it. Sure, they may say they’re anti-racist but they don’t actually mean that, they’ll never actually do anything when, say, they have to disconnect from a racist friend.

So, here I am, face to face with David the dickhead. I tell him to fuck off. He doesn’t. So I repeat it, it’s a noisy club, after all. The third time, he does, indeed, fuck off.

I stood my ground. I didn’t let a racist make me move. I will not be moved. When it comes down to it, if he hadn’t moved, I would have made him move.

If you’re non-white and reading this, you’re probably just shrugging wearily internally cos, hey, you know what it’s like. We have to struggle every day just to exist, to live without insult and attack, we have to struggle against those who would dehumanise us. It’s a never-ending drip of micro and the occasional macro aggression. 

If you’re white, I’d ask you: what are you doing to stop racism? Do you laugh along with the racist jokes you hear or do you call out the hater?

It’s a simple choice.