the horror! the mirror! the rorrim! the rorroh!

rarely does sadoo doodo respond explicitly to that vulgar world of facts and opinions that so tediously dominates the vaudevillian horror of society – we deal with the forceful omnipresence of that sphere by processing it through a factory specializing in ridiculousness to produce little shits of doodo texts – but a spiritual amalgam of being on a train for 60 hours forced to puke-dribble polite talk with 150 mostly wretched specimens of ostensible animation surrounded by smells of slaughtered pigs in a warped role play in which the staff are kindergarten teachers and the customers the kids, finding itself in some bleak northern city at the end of april and it’s -1° and snowing, drawn masochistically to online media news as vain hope to compensate for existential claustrophobia, i read how robot emotions may give us a false sense of security. the article should be retitled clichés from the noosphere. it’s pieces like this – even more than the overt ones on climate change and species genocide – that provide irrevocable evidence of not only impending apocalypse but human commitment to it through an unwavering confusion of conformity and intelligence. every story now requires validation from a postured coddled class of experts as humans have willed their minds to an unseen contract through a faith in technology that makes medieval christianity seem like the law of universal gravitation

as is usual in these reports, the reputed trend (humans feeling overly secure through anthropomorphized technology) and the conjectured concern about the trend (that this security isn’t real or as real as human emotion and this irreality is dangerous) are equally nonsensical. sure, humans can feel overly secure through anthropomorphized technology, but they can feel underly secure through it too, and they can feel underly or overly or overly and underly secure through unanthropomorphized technology, anthropomorphized or unanthropomorphized mammals, insects, trees, humans ... . we’d need some splatter chart of polydimensional proportions to even grossly picture the growing technosphere and its relations with a constantly changing human over- and under-confidence – orientations not to be ignored (though they are also this) yet hardly yet another tiny correlation waiting to be tinyly solidified, tinyly dogmatized, tinyly analyzed … subject to that tired conflation between specificity (some humans in some instances have some emotions corresponding to a murky x) and generalized theory (this particular trend exhibits [or even may exhibit] this particular danger [yes it may exhibit this but it may exhibit many others also]). the number of unstated assumptions, anthropocentric nonsense, sentimental stupidity, conjectured correlations that collapse under light synaptic firing feeds our accelerating advocacy for cockroaches

look at quotes from three of the usual sort – researchers poofessors assearchers chicken soup ghost writers – yanked into the officialblabosphere to make nonsense of nonsense

The performance of empathy is not empathy. Simulated thinking might be thinking, but simulated feeling is never feeling. Simulated love is never love.

Even if you know a robot has very little autonomy, when something moves in your space and it seems to have a sense of purpose, we associate that with something having an inner awareness or goals.

When we interact with another human, dog, or machine, how we treat it is influenced by what kind of mind we think it has. When you feel something has emotion, it now merits protection from harm.

even a few sentences from a few of the best books turn these expert comments into rotting depopped popcorn. haven't read them? oh dear. you could start with a smattering of polysemous explorations of love reality simulation thinking feeling communication freedom slavery consciousness interiority etiology teleology species exceptionalism contextuality entitlement capitalism factory farming exotericism …

my toaster moves in my space and seems to have a sense of purpose

you torture and kill pigs and googoo over cats and call yourself empathic

simulated love might very well be the only love that has known love, simulated feeling the only feeling that feels, how do you know the difference between simulation and reality other than through autodefinitions you find in the mirror of your toilet?

what you call authentic love is a narcissistic simulation, a card drawn from a particular game you imbecilically and dictatorially objectify as the only game

performance is everything, even in its manifestations as under- over- anti- meta- pata- etc- and non-performance

who is the more authentic emotionalian – fernando pessoa (fine at certain kinds of simulatings), anabel jensen (an expert in emotional intelligence), chandra mohan jain (a rind bind of simulated brine), anne sexton (fine at certain kinds of simulatings), or … (   ) or ... (   ) or ... (   ) or ... ?

if you can’t spontaneously generate at least 22 such rebuttals within 22 seconds of reading such an article run to kurtz and ask your weeny & deserved god to shrink your shrunken head and stick it on a torch in darkest esotatic esoterica

i delve into socionormative texts – whether in the form of news articles or train conversations or – and rererrhealize we are fake and dusty teeny plants in cheap plastic pottings living through dissimulated soils on arcane bookshelves of forgotten hostel libraries in undesirable cities on a silent planet juggled by an uncanny coulrophobic clown

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