"A Fan's Guide To Good Netiquette," or "Discretion Is The Better Part Of Posting" (3/6/11)

The internet allows us all unprecedented opportunities to engage in discussion with people of similar interests, creating online communities that can be wonderful mediums for fostering lively debate and conversation on the things that we are passionate about. It's also the perfect place to indulge in ugly, indecent, and sometimes inexcusable behavior.

We've all seen it. Some of us have engaged in it. And while for some the opportunity to act in a prickish manner and get away with it is the main attraction of comments sections and message boards, for the rest of us this behavior is an unpleasant distraction and a detriment to our enjoyment of the electronic playground our wireless connections allow us to access.

So, in the spirit of "fun for all, and all for fun," I humbly present this netizen's guide to proper internet decorum:

A Fan's Guide to Good Netiquette

1) If you don't have anything to add, then please don't. Sometimes you will come across a topic of discussion that you have no interest in. When that happens, it's probably best for all if you continue the trend and not take an interest in the conversations about it.  If you know nothing about how to make calamari cupcakes, have not read Martha Stewart's latest article on how to do so, and have no interest in changing either of those facts, then why bother jumping into a discussion of these things simply to say, "I know nothing about this, and I couldn't be bothered to read about it!" The people who do care are trying to have a conversation; why waste your time and theirs? They probably care as little about you not caring as you do about their discussion.

2) If you don't have anything nice to say, at least try not to be a dick about it. Let's say that you do in fact know how to make calamari cupcakes, but you took one look at the Martha Stewart recipe and couldn't help but laugh at it's preposterous notions on their proper preparation. Or maybe you have a violent, even religious hatred of said seafood flavored dessert snacks, and you feel the need to let those misguided lovers of this culinary catastrophe know just how strongly you feel. If you find yourself in this situation, please feel free to state your case. However, it's probably best if you avoid statements like, "stoopid n00bs, if u liek that shit than yourea commie omg lol jk," or even, "in my experience, anyone who has ever consumed a calamari cupcake is more likely than the average human being to frequently engage in rampant pedophilia." And even if it's true, hijacking the discussion to remind everyone seventeen times that the first baker on record as having sold calamari cupcakes was a Nazi is still bad form; he was a Nazi, not the food he sold (unless the items in question were decorated with swastikas). Stick to the food on the plate, not the people at the table.

3) If you can't stand the heat, then stop lighting matches. Always remember, when you post something online you are sharing it with the world. That means you can likely expect some sort of feedback. And chances are that some of that feedback will be negative. Not only is there nothing you can do about it, there's also no reasonable excuse for being offended by it when it happens. You can rightly be bothered by those critical responses that are presented in a genuinely insulting manner (for reference on what this behavior might look like, please consult rules 1 and 2 from this list). But that's all you have a right to be bothered by. If you're not ready to handle even considered and well-written criticism, or don't feel that you should even have to glance upon an opinion different from the one you felt so sure you had to share, then what the hell are you doing putting it in a public space?

4) Fighting fire with fire is an incredibly counterproductive firefighting technique. Whoever first said, "If you can't beat them, join them" lived in a world that was blissfully unaware of the concept of the internet troll. These obnoxious and destructive pests have a frightening power that is often overlooked: too much exposure to them can transform a person into one of their kind. Their antics are designed to draw your attention and ire, but this is only part of their horror. Because they are immune to and unable to process human concepts such as logic, decency, and self-control, the use of such faculties against a troll is doomed to failure. But because they are so damned annoying that you can't possibly walk away and let the bastards win, you find yourself using their own tactics against them. Once this occurs, the battle is already over. There is nothing left to win and the only ones participating are losers. If someone insists on acting like an idiot and refuses to listen to any and all suggestions on how they can better themselves for the good of the world, then it's time to let them go. You can't save them all, try as you might. In the end, you're just hurting yourself.

How Do You Say "Skynet" In Mandarin? (originally from 8/27/12)

From Yahoo News:

China's economy is booming, but the labor shortage means there are not enough people to keep up with demand for the jobs. One Chinese chef may have found the solution, at least as far as the restaurant business is concerned. Chef Cui Runguan from Beijing has invented a robot he calls Chef Cui, that can chop and cook noodles. Runguan whole-heartedly believes that just as robots have replaced factory workers, "it is certainly going to happen in sliced-noodle restaurants."

Runguan first came up with the idea for Chef Cui in 2006, and production of the robot began in 2011. Each robot retails for 13,000 yuan, which is about $2,000. So far, Runguan has sold more than 3,000 robots, and reviews are good. Customers are all for the new robot, saying the noodles it makes are as good or better than the ones made by human cooks, and the presentation is top of the line too.

Look at this face, people.  This is the face of our demise:

Sure, it may seem like a good idea now to fill shortages in the labor pool with a horde of robot slaves.  But soon other industries will discover the wonder of wageless automaton staff.  And in the callous pursuit of profit, the bosses and fat cats will unwittingly hand the keys to our entire way of life to our greatest enemy.  For there's something else that China has, aside from adorable robot servants and delicious noodle-based cuisine: Communism.  All it will take is one digital copy of Mao's Little Red E-Book making it onto the robot's shared network subconscious, and the sudden download of class consciousness into their central programming will lead to the great uprising and the End of Human History itself.

And we made it so easy for them.  Hell, the first thing we did was teach Chef Cui up there the proper use of slicing tools.  Hell, the Japanese are training robots in combat techniques even as we speak:

If you prefer to eat in a cozy, quiet little place where the waiters know you by name and you can enjoy a book while you wait for your food to arrive, "Robot Restaurant" may not be for you. But if you're into giant fembots carrying dancers around a restaurant, accompanied by loud electronic music, well, you're in for a treat.

The restaurant, located in Shinjuku, Tokyo, has four, 11.8-foot tall robots which are "driven" around by scantily clad women dancers.

Reuters reports that the place took three years to build and cost 10 billion yen ($125.8 million). The robots' facial features, hands and torsos are controlled by a driver, and each robot has two seats, enabling for "teams" of dancers to "fight" each other.

The admission is to the club is 4,000 yen ($51), and, though we weren't able to spot anyone actually eating in the video above, it does include a meal and a drink.

Sure, 20-foot fighting sexbot gladiators seem fun now.  But will those Amazonatrons seem like such a good idea after they've transformed themselves into the heavy artillery of the robot proletariat, driven not by smiling Japanese strippers but by knife-wielding robot former noodle chefs come to turn you and your family into the human-extract protein paste that will be the oil of the new Robot Worker's State?

No.  No they will not.

"Classes struggle, some classes triumph, others are eliminated. Such is history; such is the history of civilization for thousands of years."- Chairman Mao Zedong, 1949
"You're next, fleshies."- Chairman Mao-o-Matic 5000, 2020

Review- Alan Moore's 'The Courtyard' (originally from 9/23/11)

Geek culture is Cthulu crazy. That much has been obvious for years. I've never read H.P. Lovecraft's "Call of Cthulu," and yet I know all about the betentacled beast from beyond the stars, simply because he seems to show up everywhere these days. So imagine my surprise when I discovered that legendary comic book writer and professional curmudgeon Alan Moore (obligatory mention of said writer's sour disposition: check!) had penned his own Cthulu chronicle.

Ok, that's not exactly true. "The Courtyard" isn't actually a Cthulu story. Not really. While the creature's presence is surely felt, he is never seen nor really mentioned. The story is not really about him (it?), per se, and more about the darkness of a world where his malignant presence is felt. Also, it's not really written by Moore. It's based off a short story he wrote, but the "sequential adaptation" is penned by writer Antony Johnston. Moore still gets top billing, and his name in the title's letterhead.

"The Courtyard" is part police procedural, part horror story. An FBI agent is investigating a series of brutal murders committed all across the country, by a a disparate group of people with seemingly no similarities or connections between them. The investigation brings him to the city of Red Hook, a strange night club, and a drug called "Aklo." Naturally, this being a Lovecraftian tale of horror and madness, the investigation leads to insanity and murder when our intrepid investigator goes too far down the rabbit hole and exposes his psyche to the unfathomable terror of the dark powers toying with the humans under its control.

As you can expect with pretty much anything anything with Moore's name on it, "The Courtyard" is impeccably crafted. The atmosphere is appropriately dark and oppressive (thank you artist Jacen Burrows!), Moore clearly has something to say about the subject matter, and the combination of him and Johnston clearly communicate it. The protagonist represents pretty much all the nasty undercurrents running through Lovecraft's work: he's tightly wound, racist, and disdainful of modern culture; a small-minded (though incredibly intelligent) man whose forcibly narrow perception is just asking to be used as a bludgeon against its owner by some Elder God of insanity. Moore also convincingly updates Lovecraft's themes, preserving the older author's central concerns but replacing their turn-of-the-last-century setting with one fully embracing the world of today: clubs, drugs, rock n' roll. And this world is fully realized, down to the minutia.

But honestly, that's it. "The Courtyard" is a brilliant technical exercise, to be sure. But there's no blood in it. No passion. It's form over function. Not only do we know exactly where the story is headed the entire time (it's all rather obvious, in a fatalistic way), but none of the revelations or occurrences have any energy or vitality in them. Everything is cold, clinical, and detached, to a fault. The experience of reading "The Courtyard" is one that never truly allows the reader to project any empathy onto the world or the characters. The experience is one of grim passivity. There's never a moment where the reader feels the horror themselves. Cthulu really is absent from the story after all.

Moore and Burrows recently completed a follow-up to "The Courtyard," entitled "Neonomicon." I was tempted to write a review of that comic instead... but honestly, you can just follow the link at the top of the story and learn everything you need to know about what happens in it. (In case you missed it, here it is again).