You Just Never Know Who Else Reads Street Musician Daniel

But maybe never comments.

...But, they don't look worried....

And, with today's Google algorithm being the global ruler that it is...the whole Afghanistan situation has to be seen in the light of the algorithm....

I think that it (the algorithm) which sees the Taliban guys when they are sleeping, knows when they're awake, and to some extent might be able to extrapolate whether they've been bad or good.

The algorithm has (hopefully) figured out that the Taliban guys, who are "accused" by some as being out of the stone age (something I would challenge by saying that the plot to use commercial jets with full fuel tanks as missiles, came, at least, out of the bronze age mentality) would not want to do anything that would not garner them "likes" on Facebook and whatever the merits are that Instagram et. al. mete out. If they are 25 now, they have probably been poking at a phone their whole lives. But, then again, maybe the stone age references derive from them NOT having Google and Facebook and Tik Tok.

They were having Afghans lie down in a ditch while out of some Bluetooth speakers played recordings of actual gun fire. They were just having some fun and making a video. Kind of funny. 

Maybe instead of trying to censure "conservative" speech, the Big Tech geniuses should try to flood the screens of these ISIS and Taliban and Odalisque members with non-stop Western Culture stuff. "...Every time I tap screen, comes blond girl -no Burka- singing 'slow clap' showing much more than just eyes!" 

As pissed as I was for seeing the way the oligarchs basically deposed Donald Trump, I was more pissed over having witnessed something unfair go down. 

Second, because I was SMH (shaking my head) over how it had been possible for democrats to go out and find all those votes for Biden; how they were probably able to scare up groups of 50 African Americans with their bullhorns; maybe they had tables set up, with hot dogs and mustard; and were able to log maybe 49 good votes for the now sitting president (he tires from too much standing).

It represented, to me, a small step backwards for mankind; to have us collectively so malleable, so controllable, through screen time brainwashing. That would have bothered me just as much if it became evident that the same had been done on behalf of the Donald.

But, it's easier to go into a area of heavily concentrated folks who seem to look and walk and talk and think pretty much the same as each other and get them all to vote the same way.

With the Trump voters, we now know with certainly that we had stood in their midst; in the supermarket, a hotel lobby; maybe sitting on a bus together, close enough to be touching! 

There were a bunch of Trump voters, making up just about every other person you saw, but who were able to be like chameleons.

Once they got inside the voting booth, they changed to a vivid red color, but then changed back, so they looked like everybody else. Fit for a world where
"the fashion" was to go around bashing the sitting president, saying things like "All I know, is, we need a new president, that's for sure!" but not having an inkling of what path that particular thought wormed along, on its way to where it tenaciously clings. Of course, they might believe it just came from everything you see, everywhere, all the time....

So, why can't we use cell phone technology to corrupt these radical Islamic people in the same manner. Make it so everything they see everywhere all the time is way out of step with their world view. I even met an Amish guy on a bus trip who was shaking his head and voicing serious doubts about their lifestyle. The young lady in the seat to his right had on some kind of headgear that resembled the "blinders" that are put on race horses so they cannot be distracted during the race by anything off to the side. I caught a glimpse or two of her nose.

I must have been about 13 when I started to really think seriously about TV.

I was at Whalom Park, an amusement park about 8 miles from where I grew up, which had a wooden roller coaster, that had to be constantly adjusted by technicians who probably had a similar skill set to those who worked on railroads, because the roller coaster car ran along very similar looking tracks which were affixed to the wood below it by spikes; possibly even railroad spikes given the availability of them in 1898 when the park was built vs. the trouble of having some machine shop machine out some special roller coaster track spikes that would be expensive.

You could get a palpable sense of the human error that went into the construction of The Comet, as that was its name. 

On this one late August afternoon, I was at Whalom, having ridden my 10 speed bike there.

It was so late in the season that things there gave the sense of winding down. The least popular rides were idle, and there was the phenomenon of kids getting off The Comet and then, since there was less than a full roller coaster's worth of them, proceeding to zig zag their way up the intake ramps, to be the first ones in line for its next run. Perpetual Comet.

When the park was busy, you might have to watch 2 or 3 loads of people you care nothing about screaming their way around the circuit before you could get on again.

But, there was also some kind of show going on. I could hear the voice of what sounded like a TV game show type guy, interspersed with music, of the sappiest kind, I thought.

Scared out of their wits...

Sure enough, once I found my way to where that noise was coming from, I beheld a guy, dressed kind of in a tuxedo without the jacket, and directing a group of kids, who had somehow found their way up on stage, through a series of games and stunts, maybe rope tricks; I had no way of knowing, at 13, that I should be taking careful notes -they might prove useful if I find myself busking 45 years later.

But, there was this kid about my age assisting the guy, who was dressed in a pin striped suit, himself. And I stopped and watched and had no idea what to make of it. The kids would have their faces in plates of whipped cream and cherries, trying to find the cherries, or would be rolling eggs along the carpet with their noses, all the while the music, which was horn heavy, and was supposed to sound peppy but was failing in a way that only horn music coming out of a PA speaker that is meant more for someone like Hitler shouting through, than for reproducing the full range of horn music, can.

But then right in front of me, a middle aged, rather portly man turned to his ditto wife and half whispered: "He's really good. He's been on TV!"

But, I grew rather silent, perhaps over then next week or so, pondering the question of whether or not the guy had been really good. I also became aware of how, after hearing that he had been on TV, I had started to reassess him, noticing that there was kind of a certain flair and style to his delivery, and it became easier to think that he was really good.

I also noted to myself that there were some really rinky dink TV stations, like the ones that came out of small town in New Hampshire, where you wouldn't have to be that great to get on...

Come to think of it; one sex has to be submissive...and have you ever seen happier little girls? I'm starting to think we should just leave the Taliban alone.

I remember, as a high school kid, staying up late to watch Saturday Night Live, thinking that that was the acme of all things television, and that if you were on SNL, it was because you are truly really good. Frank Sinatra even nailed it when he said "If I can make it there; I'm gonna make it anywhere..." type of thing. 

Well, I wish I could remember the name of the kid who was the assistant of the kiddie game show guy, because I saw him a couple weeks later after he wound up coming to my high school, and was even in my English class. I want to say Mark LeClair; but I often just want to say "Mark LeClair," at odd times...

And, sure enough, us kids were asked to write essays about something that happened to us over the summer vacation. It had to be in the first person narrative, and we were encouraged to use a lot of sensual imagery; sights and smells and sounds...did I mention that there was kind of a combination popcorn and motor oil smell that permeated the park that day?

And, honest to God, when Mark read his essay aloud, it was about his experience of being the assistant to this guy who has been on TV, and what an incredible experience it had been for the kid. I felt bad for him. I got the impression that he had a father that wasn't around much and the carnival guy had become like a father figure and mentor to him, in his place [cheesy horn section through a megaphone here]. The teacher, along with a few students did recognize the guy's name, from having seen him on TV.

I guess what I am saying is that this was the secondary disappointment I've taken away from recent events. The fact that, if you saturate the screens of a large enough chunk of the population, with what amounts to propaganda, you can change their beliefs. Shouldn't humans be evolving towards being less sheep-like?

It just makes me think that screens are an even more formidable brainwashing tool than the TV ever was; and that some day soon, some guy like the CEO of Google will, in effect, rule the world; by choosing what everyone sees everywhere all the time...