“Ma Titfalsafi,” or You Will Dull the Party
If the amateur philosopher remains undaunted, someone might say brusquely, “Ma titfalsafi,” do not philosophize. Or, sarcastically, “Yo faylasuf”: You are a philosopher. Again, not meant as a compliment.
If the amateur philosopher remains undaunted, someone might say brusquely, “Ma titfalsafi,” do not philosophize. Or, sarcastically, “Yo faylasuf”: You are a philosopher. Again, not meant as a compliment.
The reality of people living together despite their differences now seems so remote that we have forgotten the power and significance of believing in that reality at all. Social media teems with divisive, bigoted rhetoric serving up menus and lists of “others” who are the problem. Ostracism and xenophobia have for years been the currency, if not the corrosive battery acid, of our nation’s political dialogue.
We need to stop forcing touch—without stopping to touch each other.
Is charm a form of social glue or sociopathy?
Bargoers said aloud by rote, cynically but accurately, “That ain’t no Jimmy Dean,” because whatever the meat was, it was not pork sausage. Everybody called it monkey meat, or mystery meat, which did not diminish patrons’ appetites and in fact sold more skewers due to its mystery.
For humans, “I” is a letter of relationship, dignity, and responsibility. Why hand it over to inanimate language models?
Nobody should want to run a business like the lighter factory, with its puny, per-unit profit scheme. No American company would even try to do what the Chinese do, by hyper-control of their people.
“It turns out that the one who destroys—at least in this case—doesn’t believe in anything but himself."
Risk in romance is friction with the potential of reward. Being alone is the friction of no prospect of reward whatsoever.
Ian Bogost reminds us that we are not yet disembodied—and can fight the trend.