YOU ARE NOT MACHINES

Charlie Chaplin in The Great Dictator.

SOCIAL STUDIES

Spent a few hours at the bookstore in Center City reading Missoula, Jon Krakauer's latest examination of just one controversial topic in the United States, that is, rape. College rape, specifically, which is rampant across college campuses in the US. The book focuses on Missoula, Montana, where rape amongst college females is largely underreported in the community. And when I say it's a controversial topic, I mean people are still divided on the whole issue. There is the victim blaming approach, the alcohol influence, the regret, both parties needing to be held responsible, character assessment, male entitlement, female naiveté, false accusations, and so on and so on.

One does wonder why there is such an epidemic of college rape in America, but by merely looking around at the way a society conducts itself should provide enough answers, instead of constantly repeating, "rape is a crime". Is this just avoidance in confronting the root structure of one's culture, and what it generates? Because that would be dismissive, and therefore irresponsible.

Krakauer, whose books of which I've always been a fan clearly takes a biased stance on this issue, as do most liberals. That is the way of progressivism, and you can't blame a writer for using his or her voice and authority to align with a reformist position in combating a growing problem contributing to the ongoing neglect of women's rights. While certain cases of college rape in America specifically may come off as murky to many, the fight for justice extends to the women around the world who are subjected to rape, cases of which are clear and irrefutable, and the system that fails them continuously is the real crime in this modern age.

If you're familiar with Krakauer's investigate journalism style of writing, and are interested in the subject matter set specifically in the context of American culture, give it a read.

UBER BAD

Lately when I'm in Philadelphia I find myself in more situations with people relying on a ridesharing mode of transportation to get anywhere. Acquaintances will reach for their smartphones and promptly request a ride on their Uber app. At that point, I wasn't entirely sold on the concept. When first hearing about start up companies like Uber and Lyft, I instinctively felt conflicted with the idea. Sounds convenient, yes, but totally unfair to licensed cab drivers, no? The slew of controversies that have been hanging over Uber makes it an even more shady company I can't justify supporting.

Yet on this current visit to Philly, I thought I'd try it for myself as a sort of social experiment/study. What kinds of people sign up to be an Uber or any other ridesharing service driver? What do they think, if they do at all, of taking jobs from cab drivers, many of whom rely solely on cab driving as a main source of income to support a family at home? Some cab drivers the world over can be dishonest pieces of shite, but I've had more good experiences than bad ones. How do ridesharing drivers fare?

So I download the Lyft app, while feeling a sense of guilt rise somewhere in the depths of my conscience.

Day 1

Friday evening, my comrades and I are headed to Center City from our location in North Philly. I request a ride after filling out the necessary details, and am told that a silver Honda CRV would arrive in four minutes. The three of us get into it once it pulls up, and exchange pleasantries with the driver, a brown skinned man in his mid to late thirties, dressed in a white office shirt and tie, and an air of superiority about him as he took us fellow Asians in with a brief and dismissive once-over. My brother launches into easy conversation with the driver, starting with, "so do you do this full time?" The guy responds languidly, "no, I just got off work. I do this to make some extra money." My brother and his friend chat with him for awhile, though he seems mostly uninterested in indulging some young Asians. I say this because at one point my brother asks him if he'd be okay taking a long distance request, and he replies very slowly, in a tone of soft condescension, "yes, if I'm not at my day job, then I wouldn't have a choice...right?" Actually, you do have a choice, asswipe. You have an office job, and drive a CRV. Perhaps you're just a bit avaricious?

I was quite happy to get out of his stifling car that stank of entitlement.

After dinner and some walking around Center City, I request my second ride to get us back to North Philly. A blue Honda Jazz with a blonde female driver picks us up. She is chatty, and gaily answers our questions about being a Lyft driver. I ask her what she thinks about cab drivers protesting ridesharing services. "You know, I don't see the problem. I think they'll be fine. Plus, we're not doing anything illegal." 

Ridesharing companies and their drivers like to say that, despite the fact that it's been established that Uber lacks any ethical business practices and their requirements to be a driver are absurdly lax. As long as you have a car in working order, a license, are over 21 years old, and have no criminal record, you can be a driver. That last point seems almost pointless, considering the many sexual assault cases that've raised safety concerns about the poorly screened background checks on drivers.  Additionally, discrimination against passengers with "black" sounding names, which is illegal, is a widespread practice amongst racist Uber or Lyft drivers. Never been discriminated or refused a ride by a cab driver in my life, and I am for that.

On top of that, compared to traditional taxi regulations, ridesharing vehicles are unlicensed and, as is widely acknowledged, exploits deregulation. This creates an uneven playing field for cab drivers who have to abide by strict regulations, including paying a hefty price for a taxi medallion. Is that illegal? Maybe it should be. Is it grossly unfair? Quite.

Day 2 

My brother and I watched the new Mission Impossible film at the movie theatre in North Philly. It's a little after midnight, and we're too tired to walk the one mile back to his apartment. I request a ride on the app and we wait for a black GMC Acadia to show. The driver is a big white male, and he reveals to us once we're moving that he does missionary work around the world. Now, I am fiercely opposed to missionaries and the proselytizing (or brainwashing) they spread invasively onto other communities. I have no patience or toleration for any sort of missionary work regardless of which religious faith it comes from that sees it as a person's calling in life to "save" the unenlightened in foreign places. The holier-than-thou thing literally makes me shudder. "I feel good about it," he says to us as we stop at a red light. "Knowing I could be doing anything else." I want to ask if the teachings he spread mentioned anything about ethics. Decide not to.

Day 3
An African American college student picks us up in her Ford Fiesta. We are in Center City then, and it's getting late. How does she like being a Lyft driver, I ask. She tells us it's an easy way to make some quick money, since she wants to get the latest iPhone and her mother won't give her the money for it. I ask her if she's ever had to deal with difficult passengers, since she says she goes to school during the day and only gets to drive people around at night. She relays to us a story about two drunk passengers vomiting in the backseat one Friday night weeks prior. "It was so funny," she says in a spate of giggles. I must be getting really old, because if someone vomited in my car, I wouldn't find it the least bit hilarious.

Day 4

Our Arab driver is not a talker, judging by how he blasts hip hop music from the car speakers the entire ride.

Later in the day, we are picked up by an off duty cop in his Chevrolet Malibu. He tries to get some hours in on Sundays, driving people around for the extra income, he tells us.

Day 5

We need to get to South Philly. A young African American male pulls up in his blue Toyota Camry. He's affable and seemed to lean back in his seat in an almost lackadaisical manner. He has more questions for us, it turns out. Malaysia? Is that the one with the two tallest towers? My screensaver used to be a picture of that. He launches into a rant about buildings that are too tall, conspiracy theories surrounding 9/11, and the deceptive ways of governments. I was too engaged with the conversation to be able to segway into the topic of Lyft/Uber.

Day 6
In a BMW headed to Chinatown. A chatty man in a dark suit sits behind the wheel, and prayer beads with a cross dangling on the end hangs from the rearview mirror. He exudes tremendous energy and positivity, and tells us about his being a devout Christian. When asked if he's experienced any confrontation with cab drivers while he drives for Lyft, since he has a Lyft sticker on his windshield, he shakes his head in irritation and recalls an incident when a cab driver pulled up beside him at a red light and called from his rolled down window, "what you're doing is illegal." Our driver shakes his head again. Says, "I don't let most things get to me, but if someone tries to stop me from reaching my goals, that's when I have a problem. I mean, I'm just trying to reach my goals. " I thought, but at other people's expense. You're kind of doing the same to him.

Day 7 

I'm headed to the Amtrak Station as I have a train to catch back to Boston at 9.15am. A young college-aged Iranian American guy shows up at 8.47am. After about eight minutes into the ride, I realize that the driver has made too many random turns and we've passed Eakins Oval twice now.

Also, having been driven to 30th St Station countless times now over the years, it generally takes less than fifteen minutes to get there from North Philly. Google maps, to the left verifies my claim.

Sensing the anxiety of his passengers, the driver asks if we're going to be late for something. I tell him I have a train to catch, and he responds, "Oh, is 30th St Station where you're headed?" Everyone in the car is confused at this point, and the driver taps the screen on his mobile phone, as though only now checking to see where he was supposed to drive his passengers. I look over at my irritated brother who is in the backseat with me, thinking, was he just driving around aimlessly for the past ten minutes?

We arrive at the station after a nonsensical 23 minute tour of Greater Center City, and with the driver awkwardly telling us he wouldn't charge us for the cost of the trip. He did, and $12.71 was charged to my credit card. I run into the station just in time to board the train.

So far, I don't get the glorification of these new start ups that run with an idea that delivers efficiency to those who rely on convenience, but show utter disregard for all else. This is what capitalism encourages, and in a society like the US, hustling is a way of life. It doesn't matter how you make your money as long as you go out and make it, and trample over others while you do it. The whining starts when the same is done to them––the Uber or Lyft drivers who suddenly don't like it when the company they work for treats them like crap.

Nowadays, when those I hang out with reach for their phones to request a ride on their apps, because buses and subways and cabs make them wait too long, and walking twenty minutes is hard, I groan inwardly. It's as though people forget how they managed to get by before the advent of more convenient solutions catering to the weak-minded. Modernity and technological "progress" seems to equate to : I can do that now? Where do I sign up?

I'm not hip, though, so count me out.

NAUSEA

Virus from the film 3 Idiots looks like how I feel ninety nine percent of the time.

IF MONEY IS THE ROOT OF ALL EVIL, ARE BANKS SATANIC CULTS?

Was walking down the street to the ATM after having lunch in Fishtown and saw this.

Someone had really put a lot of effort in showing Bank of America how much they hated the corporation. Went and printed out a banner. Scaled a building to put it up right across from a Bank of America branch so the employees would have to see it every single day and everything. That's dedication. I mean, I have nothing but the utmost disgust for banks, the great symbol of crime and wickedness, but even I wouldn't put myself through that much trouble.

IN THE MEANTIME

Came across this Close to Home comic recently. It aptly describes most of the guys I know.

In the meantime, I'm reading someone's copy of Frank McCourt's Angela's Ashes, which I've put off reading for years. What leaves a bad taste in my mouth are the numerous criticisms against the memoir which points out the many inconsistencies and untruths Frank McCourt manipulated to tell a more emotional story. I picked up on his disdain for Limerick, Ireland early on in the book, and his constant veneration of America - his one goal, was a bit pathetic, but I can understand how America seems to be the one bright light when you're living in poverty and rags and oppression in another land. That well marketed dream many have bought into.

PROGRESS SEEMS TO MEAN : A STREAM OF TASTELESS INVENTIONS TO UNITE THE HERD

Yesterday while scanning the front page of the Guardian website, my eyes caught sight of an opinion piece titled, I loved the honesty of Tinder – then I met Mr No Sex Before Marriage. Against my better judgment, and having already read the more significant articles on the page, I clicked on the Tinder piece, just to have something stupid to deride in that free moment I had.

I love the honesty of myself, which is why I can say without hesitation that a lot of online dating sites or apps like Tinder are there for specific types of people. And by specific types I mean certain adjectives that could accurately describe the sheep-mentality of those who will try anything just because it's available to do. The entire concept of posting a picture of yourself, photoshopped selfies or not, in a public sphere, and in hopes that someone will decide that you are attractive enough to "try on" like shoes ordered online, is frightening. It's a generation of disposable dating. Swipe, swipe, swipe, move on to the next one selling themselves. It's the greatest deception in that one can find real companionship by flipping through a catalogue of like minded people. Actually, that makes sense. Like minded people on apps like Tinder will find something in common with eachother. Like prefering convenience, and quantity over quality. 

I heard a story once, of a Western Muslim man visiting the Sahara desert to meet some Bedouin. One night, the man and his friend brought a Bedouin back to the shelter they were staying in. A television was on in a corner of the room. Upon seeing it, the Bedouin quickly turned his head away. You have never seen a television before, the Westerner remarked to him. Aren't you curious to experience it? The Bedouin replied, I have heard there are bad things in them, and I don't want to let them into my heart.

Why is that a great story? It is unique and meaningful. I often think the Bedouin's response sums up how the vast majority of people are dismissive of what they allow themselves to absorb. How does something affect your well-being? Your respect for self? Your conscience? Your autonomy? Your values?

The vapid article itself says a lot about the narcissism involved in the social networking/dating craze in recent times. The writer, an avid Tinder user who rattles off a number of requirements in order for a guy on Tinder to be approved by her, and who is also in therapy (like most Americans) writes, "what was great about Tinder was the lack of risk. Not having to face my crippling social phobia and fear of rejection is the appealing factor here." Yes, if it's one thing we know it's that people are now more comfortable communicating with others through a screen, grasping onto a false sense of intimacy. Through a screen, your true flaws are veiled, airbrushed, nonexistant. A person becomes distorted and misleading. And when you lose a grip on reality, and the self, you become soulless, and forget how to truly live as a human being. Hence, the drugs, the depression, the loss of control. The inflated sense of self people like the writer possess is a bit of a paradox. She has a checklist in which she judges people on an app that can best be equated to scrounging for fast food in a dumpster, and then complains about having no luck in meeting the right person.

This comment in the discussion section of the article sums it all up plainly :

" Life is so vacuous isn't it? To have to resort to such means for what? Really there must be more to life than just finding ways like this to entertain yourself until the end. "

HOW BAD IDEAS WILL DESTROY US ALL

It's hard to visit a city in the United States nowadays and not see people partaking in a segway tour. In other words, the usual mundanity of sightseeing through a city on foot, with both your hands free to access your camera for spontaneous photography is no longer an issue. Now there is the luxury of paying to look stupid while propelling one's self on a "personal transportation vehicle," a term conceived by Segway's unrepentant marketing team, no doubt, as you gaze to your left or right to take in the sights and try not to crash face first into concrete.

You know what else can be considered a "personal transportation vehicle?" A car. Particularly one driven by an individual looking to transport themselves from one destination to another. Even a motorcycle. Or an electric bicycle.

"Experience the future of personal mobility today" the company encourages, most likely targeting a niche market of gullible consumers. The same ones who spend money on a Comfort Pillow with Built-in Speaker. Or lonely single people who resort to cuddling inanimate objects :

The boyfriend pillow seen above would be really sad if I didn't bother to mention, for the sake of being fair, Japan's dakimakura culture of loving pillows with anime girls emblazoned on them. In the case of Japan's otaku, those who sacrifice their social life for gaming and tech interests should be able to experience relationships just like everyone else, one could argue. It does raise important questions of the philosophical kind, which, it seems, does not occur to those who think up these inventions. 

The innovations of the modern age are not genius, they are merely exploitative solutions created for those who are unable to function at society's standards of "normal," but not due to natural issues experienced by everyone, including insecurity and awkwardness. It's a chain of events that the technological age has triggered, spawning a generation of self-handicapped beings who need the world to adapt to their needs, instead of improving themselves to adapt to the world.

As bad ideas continue to be made into saleable products and services by people with a short-sighted view of longterm effects, all for the goal of making a profit off of human weakness, the future looms in a sinister light. With the advent of robots and more technological innovations, human beings won't just depend on electronics to fulfill their needs, but will, and many have, become machines themselves. As José Saramago noted, we will know less and less what it means to be human.

FISHTOWN AND SANDWICH REVIEW

I've decided I can't stand this particular area of Philadephia. Maybe it's the overbearing whiteness, it being a hipster enclave, the overall mundanity, or all of the above that makes it unbearable for me, even if just to have lunch for an hour. 

The sandwich we shared at La Colombe headquarters was good, but not worth heading back to Fishtown for.

I was trying to think which part of Boston I would compare Fishtown to, but then remembered that all of Boston is white and mundane.

I WON'T PRETEND TO KNOW ANYTHING ABOUT ART

But this photo I took while walking over the bridge in the Public Gardens makes me think of Impressionism, the only movement I care for, and the paintings of the great Camille Pissarro and Claude Monet. For no other reason than the fact that Pissarro painted a lot of trees, and Monet always had water in his works, plus that Japanese bridge. 

It's almost strange that a group of painters with diverse styles were largely shunned by the art institutions and critics at the time for attempting to break from convention and opting to paint the ordinary, depicting life in the moment, and with intensity of color. Simply painting what they saw right in front of them made the Impressionists a revolutionary movement that would pave the way for modernist art. Go figure.

I had to stop and appreciate the view on that cold afternoon, as such moments can be fleeting.

BLIZZARD

Beribu bintang di langit kini menghilang, meraba aku dalam kelam.

Pudar ilhamku tanpa arah.

- - -

Thousands of stars in the sky now disappeared, I groped in the dark.

My inspiration fades without direction.

DILEMMAS

"Yeah, I was faced with that terrible thing, when somebody shows you their work and everything about it is shit...so...you don't really know where to start."

From Exit Through the Gift Shop

COMPANY

Pops decided to spend the beginning of the new year with his least favorite daughter in Boston.