Home AboutGiveawaysRecipesOur Town SeriesReviewsShop
Tuesday, September 04, 2012
/
Labels: ,
The pink azaleas are quite lovely.
Spring arrived in Brisbane three days ago. Though, for the past two weeks, these blooming beauties have graced our front entryway. Pink azaleas are so lovely!

However, I (Mrs. Speech) am a Michigan gal. And, for me, September means going back to school, enjoying summer's last breath and looking forward to the cooler temperatures and gorgeous foliage Fall brings. I'm having difficulty accepting that September means Spring, the end of winter (Ha! "Winter" - high 40s and low 70s...brrr...puhleeeeze!), hot & humid summer looming on the horizon. Yes, I'd rather be sipping apple cider and sampling donuts at Robinettes back home this time of year.

How long have you lived in Australia? You ask. Five years. And, I don't think I will ever get used to this opposite season phenomenon that happens here. It's just different.

Michigan Winter
See what I mean? This is March in Michigan. Our wedding day, in fact. Snow. Ice. More snow. Lots and lots of snow. We married during a blizzard. Then boarded a plane for Australia's great sunshine state - Queensland. [Fact: Queensland truly is called, "The Sunshine State". It's on the Queensland license plate.] I remember thinking, as we drove to my new home from the airport, "Hey, this looks just like America's great sunshine state - Florida!" [Fact: Florida license plates also boast, "The Sunshine State".] Having lived four years in central Florida, I could appreciate the similarities: lots of sunshine, bird's-of-paradise, jasmine, poinsettia, orchids, palm trees, and many other tropical trees, flowers, birds, and other critters. For a fleeting moment, I did wonder if all those hours on a plane we only circled America and landed back in Orlando. I was drousy from Dramamine. I would have easily believed we were still in America.

Queensland Winter
Spring here brings out the creepy crawlies and the worst in birds. Just last night a St. Andrews Spider surprised me in the bathroom...not a nice surprise. Spiders here are as large as a man's hand. This one was as large as mine. I ran out of the bathroom, grabbed the fly spray, woke up Mr. Speech, screamed and shot off some spray in the general direction of the spider. Unfortunately, the can of spray does not shoot in a straight-line direct stream, so though I managed to coat the contents of the room the spider was in, I doubt I doused the spider at all.

The worst in birds...what did I mean by that? I refer to the Australian Plovers and Magpies. Both are very territorial. Plovers nest in the ground and will fly at you with their talons out to protect their young. Magpies nest in trees. They will swoop at you and flap their broad wings at you or peck at you...very unpleasant. Not the kind of spring birds I grew up with - Robins and their pretty blue eggs don't pose any threat to people.

My northern hemisphere family and friends who are sipping cider, munching donuts, and riding hay wagons - please think of me dodging magpies, running from spiders, and mentally adjusting to summer coming.

Still the pink azaleas are quite lovely.
Yup, that's about what they look like.
Q. What's the difference between a troll and an ogre?
A. An ogre moves out of his parents' place and becomes a middle manager.

Here in Australia, there's a story circulating right now about a minor celebrity named Charlotte Dawson.

Ms Dawson was the subject of a hate tweet. She was told to go hang herself. She responded by finding out the tweeter's employer (tweeter left a trail), then reporting the tweeter's behaviour to that employer. The tweeter was then put on paid leave from her position.

Ms Dawson then ceased to be the subject. She became a target.

A torrent of abuse suddenly was hurled her way with every possible contortion of the phrase 'go hang yourself' used in hashtags.

Let's have a look at some of the lovely messages sent her way:









The above messages are by a long way the more tame ones. Others I couldn't justify embedding on this blog. I feel like I need to wash my hands.

Ms Dawson, who has a history of depression, was taken to a hospital emergency ward on the morning of August 30th where she received psychiatric care at St Vincent's Hospital in Sydney. She is now being looked after by friends.

Now in the interest of presenting all sides of the story, it appears early on she tried to dish back what she got, responding at a less crude level to the sewage being hurled in her direction. This is called feeding the trolls. It is also akin to putting out a fire by pouring cooking oil on it.

You can't reason with these people. You cannot engage them, co-operate with them, discourage them, threaten or insult them. Any attention you give them will encourage their acts of juvenile animosity.

I (Mr Speech) have been the subject of trolling, on a website I had in the late nineties. It was not serious, and it stopped after a couple weeks. For unrelated reasons I have not participated much on the internet; I'm more an observer and likely will stay that way except for this blog. I don't have a Twitter or Facebook account. Mrs Speech has both.

Things were not always this way on the internet. There was once some degree of civility, except of course for the always-present exceptions, there to frustrate the rule:

I've watched it begin as the odd revolting comment in the odd corner of the cybersphere in the late '90s to now, where it's everywhere all the time.

I remember chatting online when I was in my late teens. We didn't get this sort of thing. The terms 'flaming' and 'flame war' were really on the periphery of internet culture, as though most online users themselves were the mainstream with a separate seedy undercurrent to whom such terminology was more familiar. I'd wager most people today who spend any amount of time online are acquainted with the term, in theory if not practice.

The Atlantic ran an interesting article online about the possiblity of software which helps civil discourse on the internet: primarily on comment threads, where the one-eyed man is king too often. It references a Scientific American article entitled "Why Is Everyone On The Internet So Angry?"

The Atlantic's comment boards could do with a little housecleaning:

I'd say someone's so friggin' dumb he thinks a German-sounding login must mean that the user is German. You need to mind your manners, Boy. You go round shouting s*** like that, someone might clout you in the piehole.

You cannot reason with these people.

I don't pretend to know exactly why this phenomenon has taken shape with such virulence and ferocity. But the clues are there if you look hard enough.

The Scientific American touches on the circumstantial factors involved. I agree with them completely.

The power of anonymity is critical when addressing online behaviour. You rarely if ever see someone acting blatantly rude to a complete stranger one-on-one, without provocation in the offline world. I can't recall having once witnessed something like that. You read about assaults and such in the news, but at a petty level, it rarely happens. People without that kind of serious criminal intent just aren't that courageous. Those bloody kids on that bus notwithstanding.

Yup, that's about what they look like.
The other side of that coin is that online communication turns other people into abstract objects; even those with little pictures next to their names do not appear like humans to us. How can they be? They don't exist. The only evidence of the possibility they exist is a few pixels on a screen, stored on a server. With a lovely picture to go with it.

There is no real interaction taking place, no engagement. There is no body language to decipher, and I suspect deep on a neurological level we are programmed to humanise based on body language; a bison does not smile and tilt its head when you compliment its shoes. Humans do human things. Avatars do not.

It is difficult sometimes - it can take conscious imagination - to digest that whoever we are communicating with online has more humanity than the hair dryer.

But this alone does not explain online vitriol. The gentleman with the German sounding name in the above quote is commenting on a political issue. If 'commenting' is the right word to use. He may not even be trolling. (Click the arrow to see the thread).

Politics has become the death knell of civil conversation, in western society. Here in Australia, our Prime Minister recently had to defend herself against allegations dating back to the nineties, when she was a lawyer in private practice. She referenced the alternate reality in which many of her detractors seem to be living, and the casually boorish nature of their obsession:

I paid for my renovations. And, well, in terms of people who continue to circulate these claims, will the misogynists and the nut jobs on the Internet continue to circulate them? Yes, they will, and it wouldn't matter what I said and it wouldn't matter what documents were produced...

...It's to do with this, you know, sort of Americanisation of our politics, this eccentric lunar right Tea Party-style interventions that we are seeing in our politics and there is nothing that a person of reason can do to deal with it.

Our opposition leader, Tony Abbott, has helped this along quite nicely. His soaring oratory, capable of lifting people to the stars base and populist rhetoric, repeated ad nauseum, and then ad hominem just in case you didn't hear the first time, has simultaneously dumbed down Australian politics and aggravated an already blood thirsty conservative bloc.

A year ago he attended a Tea Party-style rally at which protestors held signs calling our Prime Minister 'witch', something that rhymes with 'witch' and other uncouth epithets unworthy of debate on federal issues. He endorsed them by being there.

Americans have their own style and it has played out furiously in the years since Barack Obama became President. I've read comment page after comment page on the Obama presidency, with the same kind of revolted fascination I hold when I see one of those really weird lizards at the zoo.

Obummer, Obomber, Oblamer, Oblameo, Obummy, Obooger. These are some of the names I have heard Americans call their President. I made that last one up, but I'm sure it's out there.

It's a very raw ugliness that speaks more to the person saying it than to the target. Its genesis lies at the level of the political and media elite, who over the years have ascertained that appealing to the abject, most contemptible level of name-calling gets you votes, viewers and hard earned cash.

Rush Limbaugh on 13 year old Chelsea Clinton:

Socks is the White House cat. But did you know there is also a White House dog?

Mitt Romney:

You know, out-of-touch liberals like Barack Obama say they want a strong economy, but in everything they do, they show they don't like business very much.

Ann Coulter:

So maybe it’s time to start imitating liberals in another way and go after the Obama children.

Newt Gingrich:

What if [Obama] is so outside our comprehension, that only if you understand Kenyan, anti-colonial behavior, can you begin to piece together [his actions]? That is the most accurate, predictive model for his behavior.

David Letterman on Bristol/Willow Palin (daughters of Sarah and Todd):

During the seventh inning, her daughter was knocked up by Alex Rodriguez.

Glenn Beck on President Obama's intentions towards AmeriCorps:

I mean, this is what Hitler did with the SS. He had his own people. He had the brownshirts and then the SS. This is what Saddam Hussein -- so -- but you are comparing that.

Trent Franks, Congressman, R-Arizona:

(Obama) has no place in any station of government and we need to realize that he is an enemy of humanity.

There is an ocean of this rubbish on the internet.

But the problem is that vitriol is its own particular trickle down economic. Citizens see their leaders treating each other like trash, upping the ante with so much hyperbole and cynical rhetoric that they can muster with profound exaggeration par for the course, that they simply elect to use a usually, more debased facsimile.

Why would President Obama dislike business? That doesn't make an ounce of sense. But carry on, regardless.

Politics in America is rarely discussed humanely.

Yup, that's about what they look like. (Click to enlarge.)
Early in his term, I noticed an internet "blame it on Obama" meme, where literally everything was blamed on Barack Obama. It became so ridiculous that it developed into irony and was thus rightly used to mimic the most inane buffoons out there.

Leadership always counts.

But even if it didn't, we'd have one final insurmountable problem which would likely still result in the existence of trolls, flamers, and the just-downright-nasty.

Humans are terrible people. Just naturally.

My initial experience with this theme comes from the Bible, which states that "all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God." (Romans 3:23) And it's so very true.

I realised this earlier this year when I thought of an interesting way to test the idea. Take a normal person, and strip away normal social conventions. Take away the usual, unwritten requirement of society to be civil and polite, and see what happens.

I came to the conclusion that there are two very compelling situations in which people show their true colours as a matter of routine circumstance, in the absence of much regulation.

At sporting events, people are encouraged to be passionate fans. But there is example after example after example after example of fan behaviour that crosses the line. A culture, probably encouraged by absurd ticket prices, that encourages fans to think that they can do whatever they wish. The insults become incredibly personal. As an NBA fan, I've read about players' mothers, wives, girlfriends and children being targeted by fans.

The major leagues in America have stepped up to combat this kind of ruthless semi-hooliganism, but it seems fair to assume people's natural inclinations are to at the least adopt a passive-aggressive mentality, and at the worst to attack a player without regard, because after all, isn't that your right when you show up to a baseball game?

Or, put another way: why are fans not sweet little prepossessing angels when they attend? When addressing the issue of people without restraint, there will only be one outcome.

That was the one example I could think of regarding human behaviour in the absence of regulation.

The other?

Right here, folks.

And this is the crux of the issue. I know people who will argue until they run out of breath about the needlessness for regulation, but when society is facing harm from people out only to make themselves feel better by destroying others, surely an appropriate legislative response should at least be considered.

How about we start with a government-mandated requirement that people who leave comments on websites and forums must give their name, address and phone number. Make them accountable. Minors must provide a parent's details. No details, no comment.

Most of the tweeters attacking Ms Dawson used accounts with no followers; they were set up with the idea of anonymity so they could, with such typical courage, lay in to her with a digital two by four, without consequence.

Bring them into the light.

Let's start there. Let's bring this thing called the internet back to a place of respectability and dignity. Where debate is conducted between civil people and name-calling, trolling and flaming are left to the kids in the playground.

And then let's deal with that, because like much else in the world, the two inevitably overlap.

(The troll) ended up being a 12-year-old girl in a wheelchair who was horribly abused in her offline life and this was a way of making herself feel better and heal.
Saturday, September 01, 2012
/
Labels:
Friday, August 31, 2012
/
Labels: , ,
So...the olympics ended. 'Bout what? Three weeks ago?

For us here in the antipodes, the big story was the lack of gold medals. We were hoping to achieve a top-five place in the medal tally, and instead spent about three quarters of the tournament battling Aruba and the West African People's Republic of Mbombo for 967th place.

So I clicked CNN yesterday expecting to find that the entire GOP elite had been flattened in Tampa by Isaac, or that a supervolcano was set to kill us all in a hail of fire and destruction (my word, it's true!) and instead, came across a different story. The London 2012 Paralympics have been opened.

With their own opening ceremony and everything! I didn't even know the Paralympics had an opening ceremony. I find this interesting.

Firstly, they got eighty thousand people to the opening ceremony. I'd never have thought. I repeated this number to Mrs Speech several times. Eighty thousand? Really? Every paralympic/disabled/handicapped/'special' sporting event/ceremony/etc that I have ever seen on tv has been watched in person by roughly the same number of people who like to dip their celery in chocolate milk.

But they got eighty thousand. Good on them.


"That was my destiny! And you cheated me out of it!"
I have no dog in this particular fight. I have never watched a Paralympic event or actually, a disabled sporting event of any kind. As a matter of taste, the number of able-bodied sports I will watch is also limited. I refuse to watch much of anything that takes place on or in the water, or involves a horse, or people running, walking funny or riding a bike for long periods of time.

I am, however, highly uncomfortable with patronising disabled people. I cannot imagine how hard it is to live without limbs, sight, hearing or any other basic human function. I'm not sure how I would deal with the daily difficulties of getting around, brushing my teeth, or in general my terrible klutz-iness.

So I find it perturbing that paralympians have their own unique sporting event. And that it's held so long after every able-bodied athlete has fled back to the four corners, that no-one really is focussed on sports anymore. There are supervolcanos to watch for, y'know.

I'm sure at some point in some highly able-bodied IOC meeting, someone jumped to the grand conclusion that it would make paralympians feel awfully special if we just held a whole other olympics for them. But let's call it the Paralympics. Who cares if it sounds like a sporting event for people who jump out of airplanes (which I might just watch).

This is the ultimate in misguided empathy. Good fences do not good neighbours make, in all circumstances. I won't cast aspersions on anyone's intentions, because for all I know those IOC chaps may have had the best for disabled competitors. But every artificial fence that is erected between one demographic and another only serves to isolate them, and us.

I once enquired about living on campus at the University of Queensland. One dorm I phoned, I believe it was St Leo's College, a gentleman with off-handed faux courtesy and an overdeveloped sense of je ne sais quoi, informed me that I was free to apply to live in the dorm, but it was for Roman Catholics, so...

I was not a Roman Catholic. In fact, I'll eat my celery dipped in chocolate milk before I bow to a man in a ridiculous pointy hat.

Every artificial fence that is erected denies someone.

I'm not on an equality crusade. I in fact very much dislike the western contemporary equal-rights fetish which is currently being manifested principally vis a vis gay marriage (which will happen regardless of what we Christians do to try to stop it).

But I'm even more opposed to tokenism. Symbols without real depth. What's the point? Why did the RNC choose to have Sikhs lead them in prayer at the nomination convention? Will Paul Ryan now settle into a life of turban-topped campaigning until the election?

Symbols without real depth are meaningless. Most thinking people can see through patronisation. I imagine disabled athletes live with it a fair bit.

So, why not integrate the Paralympics with the Olympics?


Quad rugby. Ouch.
Seriously, where's the issue? So the circus goes for three weeks instead of two. You deal with a few more athletes, and a few more tourists. And you make people with a disability feel like Olympians.

Disabled sports instantly gains the cachet of the highest-profile sporting event in the world, and the benefit of integrated sponsorship and coverage of disabled sports intertwined with Usain Bolt jogging the last forty metres because trying as hard as you can is so...trying.

The Olympics in turn, gets more participation at the fan level from tourists who are already gee-d up about the Olympics and thus might view wheelchair rugby as a legitimate sport and not something 'they' only 'play' in 'their' games. And with more fan participation comes more money, right?

It can make money, and has the benefit of being good policy.

All it really needs is will. I'm surprised in this day of demanding our rights (see above) that the disabled sporting community hasn't popped its head up and said "excuse me" a bit more on this issue.

Surely it hasn't escaped them that they are being excluded from legitimacy as a result of amateur empathy?
Wednesday, August 29, 2012
/
Labels:

Move along. Nothing to see here.
So when I (Mr Speech) launched this thing I just really wanted to get us Speechies blogging. Couldn't do that without launching it.

However, as is sometimes the case with these things it wasn't close to being ready it needed a little polish. A buff. Wax on, wax off sort of thing.

So, if you arrived here in the past couple days and saw the header at the bottom of the page or just a big purple-green thing instead of the page, then, I apologise.

I'm almost done.

Then again, maybe that header could be a little greener...hmmm...

"Weird and creepy, this is. Merm hrm hrm hrm hrm!"
Mrs Speech switched me on the other day to an interesting article on a site called psfk.

In a nutshell, the boffins are going to cheat death for us. Not, in a someday-they'll-get-on-that-whole-thing-and-figure-it-out kind of way, but in so timely a manner, that if all goes to plan, I (Mr Speech) and the missus may actually experience it. So that's nice.

It's being financed by a Russian billionaire named Dmitry Itskov - of course it is! - and involves several stages, with the project advancing as technology does. From what I can tell, these are the basic stages.
  1. By 2020 - Teach a human brain to remotely control a robotic body
  2. By 2025 - Transplant of a human brain into a robotic body at the end of one's life.
  3. By 2035 - Transplant a human mind into a robotic body with an artificial brain at the end of one's life.
  4. By 2045 - Holographic bodies instead of robotic bodies.
I confess, I don't completely understand the last part. A hologram is just light refracted and dispersed and jumbled together, to form an object. It doesn't contain real matter per se, Star Trek notwithstanding. You need a projector to form the image.

I'm not sure how a person would interact with the world as a hologram unless there were projectors all over every building in every street, maintaining your hologram as you walk around. And what if you walked passed a building without a working projector? Would you disappear for a bit until you walked past a building whose machine ain't on the fritz?

But I digress.

It's odd seeing this kind of inventioneering; anyone who's seen the Jetsons has been disappointed in the lack of advancement. Where's my rocket pack? So I can get to my house on the moon? And drive my flying car?


This is the best they've come up with so far? I should have a villa on that there ridge by now.
So it' s nice to see some epic ambition. I was beginning to think we had artificially limited ourselves to 'New Gatorade! Now with 15% more hydrolitic energy!' kind of advances.

I've always been fascinated with the 'fi' in sci-fi. The fiction, the dream, the boundless ideas. Pre-JFK you'd have been called a buffoon if you'd suggested bouncing around on the big white cheesey ball. But the great man himself has just passed and the (rightful) focus on his achievements remind us that great things are possible.

But ay, here's the rub: should we? Or to quote Jeff Golblum (Jurassic Park):

"You were so busy trying to see if you could do it that you didn’t stop to think about whether you should."

I know Mrs Speech is concerned about the robotic bodies and the humans who aren't quite human. Because what they are talking about is digitising a human mind and putting it in a robot.

And then eventually dispensing with the robot and transferring the mind to a digital body.

Wherein lieth the ethics? Will the ethics evolve as we all become accustomed to the convenience of not dying? Will we simply option our digital life sooner? Shuffle off this mortal coil, to be replaced by an electronic one?

Don't get me wrong, I'm not wringing my hands in panic. I think reaching for the stars is good. Achieving is good.

But this thing advocated by Mr Itskov, is a half-finished idea. When a mind can be digitised, it can be stored in any electrical device with an appropriate capacity.

When your mind is stored on a server somewhere, and the real world has been done away with, and the only consciousness you know is in a digital world stored on another server, are things really better? Isn't this where we're headed? Why maintain an actual body, when a holographic body will do?

Why maintain an actual world, when one can be created a la The Matrix and humans can simply play at 'real' instead of experiencing it?

I'm excited by the initial application of this project. Life is good. More life is better. Eternal life on this world...I don't know.

And then there's the unconvincingly muted joy of the video. This guy needs a girlfriend.

Wednesday, August 29, 2012
/
Labels: ,

"I'm sorry, your accent is not familiar to me. Would you like to try another?"
What kind of a name is Speech Not Recognised for a blog?

Well, it's a running joke for us which began a couple months ago.

Mrs Speech, who is American and who speak-a-no-Strine, tried to use the speech recognition app on Chrome on my computer.

Speech not recognised.

She tried again.

Speech not recognised.

And again.

Speech not recognised.

She tried to say 'kookaburra' and small tendrils of smoke began emanating from the casing of my machine.

I can do it just fine, though. I'm Mr Speech. Hi, how are you.

So for those of you who know us, welcome. It's been a long time between blogs. When we last left you, the Brisbane floods had pretty much just happened. It's been a long time between blogs.

For those of you who don't know us, thanks for visiting, too!

So this is our second attempt at blogging together. We'll share our lives, our loves, our dreams. Our hopes and fears. Together, we'll achieve our destiny. Something like that.

So join us on our merry little journey. It'll look something like this:


Well, hopefully. Godspeed, Mr Armstrong.