Pseudonym Writes

Wednesday, 04th September, 2013

The Correct Position On Euthanasia – REVEALED!

OK, so I have long been deeply suspicious of euthanasia, mainly because I tend to think people will be too quick to kill off perfectly good people (and also because I’m not quite sure how to calculate the utilities involved so I tend to err on the side of caution.) Now, this view has recently been challenged by the inestimable author of Slate Star Codex, who rechecked the numbers on anti-euthanasia advocates’ (myself included) favourite example – the apparent slippery slope evidenced by actual examples of legalising euthanasia.

Both Yvain and the doctors whose self-reports this is based on are, obviously, in favour of euthanasia (probably for much the same reasons – he works in a hospital), and are distinctly biased. But still, this significantly weakens the evidence that was pointing me toward keeping it illegal and I at least have had to update my estimate downward, even taking the bias into account (I think). The post in question is here.

However, fear not! For, him having previously alluded to knowing the correct numbers, I had already gone “hmm, if this is true it might be an actual moral conflict, where whatever I think is right I’ll still feel like a terrible person either way.” And, wandering the internet on unrelated business, I stumbled upon THE ANSWER, courtesy of Eliezer Yudkowsky, who tends to do that.

The article below was written by Yvain, who just started practicing in a modern hospital. Some people consider Professor Quirrell a cynic but the truth is that real life is so vastly more insane that there is no way to have it make sense even as a story allegory. You’d need Azkaban to have been built as an old-age home for people’s beloved parents because they can linger for another few years, before finally dying, if they’re being eaten by Dementors. Scott’s description of a modern hospital reads like a description of Azkaban right down to the screams coming from behind locked doors, only with more grotesque tortures than just your life and happy memories being drained away. What the FUCK is wrong with our civilization that we would rather torture old people to death to show how much we care, and then they inevitably die ANYWAY, rather than sign them up for cryonics so we could let them go peacefully knowing we’d done our best and that they might actually have a chance at coming back. –Eliezer Yudkowsky (emphasis added)

Cryonics, folks. It’s a thing.

(‘m not sure which is worse – that I didn’t even think of that, or that no-one else does either:/)

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Monday, 02nd September, 2013

Political Correctness Gone Mad

Everyone knows what the term “political correctness” refers to, and if they don’t they know where google is. But what I didn’t know, until recently, was the origins of the term.

You see, it originated among Communists as a term for the Stalinist party line – politicians would stick to the politically “correct” position provided by the Party, and were criticised for it by their more freethinking bretheren:

It was used by Socialists against Communists, and was meant to separate out Socialists who believed in equalitarian moral ideas from dogmatic Communists who would advocate and defend party positions regardless of their moral substance.

-—[source][actual source]

The term was picked up by, y’know, liberal types, feminists and such, sometime around the seventies, and acquired roughly it’s modern meaning. So far, so much boring minutiae that I didn’t know, as such, but it fitted what I already knew, right? Here’s the thing, though: why exactly were they using a disparaging term that basically meant “censorship” for their own beliefs?

Because they were being self-depreciating, that’s why. It was originally a joking warning against their own cultishness! Every subculture has these. But then – dun dun dun! – in the late eighties/early nineties, conservatives picked up on it. They started asserting – mistakenly? – that this was a serious term used by liberals, and they were here to warn you that (surprise surprise) it was basically censorship.

Of course, at this point, liberals suddenly became very defensive. What they were doing, after all, wasn’t a bad thing (although it did have risks, as the “political correctness” joke had warned.) So they started arguing that no, political correctness was a good thing, and, well, arguments are soldiers, and self-depreciating warnings about censoring people weren’t exactly supporting the troops. They had to go.

And that’s the story of how a joke turned into reality, and self-awareness was used as ready-made propaganda. Sweet dreams, kids.

(No, there’s no real point to this post, it just interests me how I – and most people, including liberals of all stripes – had it completely backwards.)

Monday, 02nd September, 2013

Quote Of The Week – Gun Control

Despite the name, this isn’t actually going to be a weekly thing. I’m going to post things under “Quote Of The Week” when and if I find new quotes.

With that said, here’s the first Quote Of The Week, by someone I know in RL and who, naturally, is amazing and witty and so on:

Gun nuts are fond of saying “but criminals will still get guns if we ban them and innocent people will be defenceless!”. The problem is, “criminals” aren’t some sort of separate group of dastardly-deed-doers who meet in shady alleys and cackle a lot. They are often people like you or me who either do stupid things or snap and start shooting. If this often-used argument were true, the US would have a similar or lower gun-homicide rate than most other developed countries, right?

— “Sheep” [Source] [His new site]

Sunday, 20th January, 2013

An Unfinished Short Story, Written In A Dream And Memorized

The world tree, with the stars caught in its branches, is older than the gods that shelter beneath it. Principal among the inhabitants of its branches are a bird, which sees all, and the deer which feed on its leaves; in recent years they have acquired the power of flight, which of course they always had. – Chapter Two, Dead Gods And The Living

I awake to find they have cut out my liver, for its healing properties, and encased my feet in cement, for its weight. The sea is cold, dark, and filled with light; my lungs burn without air, and the salt burns the wound like acid.

The forest is stone, now, and worn by time.

I laugh as the world cuts to black.

In crucifixion one hangs by the arms, restricting the diaphragm and thus asphyxiating, although an unwilling victim in good health may support themself for a time on the nails; the spear is of course essential, as is the tree. –Chapter Thirteen, Dead Gods And The Living

I have been walking in the desert for forty days, and I presume I am walking in circles. In the pyramid is the corpse of an immortal, who raised the Sun and cut out his heart, not necessarily in that order.

It is at this point that I realize I will never be truly dry again.

Dead gods are not mourned and it is for this reason they die. For example Tyr, one-handed god of justice, whose name conjours no images to our minds, yet who once was rival to Odin himself. Even a name may yet thrive, however; Dagon, lord of the corn, whose name evokes a certain fish, lives yet beneath the sea, though he is now known by other names, and he is often dead. –Chapter Six, Dead Gods And The Living

A thousand years from now, bound in chains of diamond, they lower me into the pit. Salt water hisses against the magma. The moon shines red on the grey ocean.

“I know how to bring back the sun,” I tell them.

They kill me anyway.

Chief among the Aesir is Thor, lord of lightnings, who brings the hammer of the gods. Thor is worshiped principally by fictional vikings, with pale skins and thick beards and horned helmets, and by neo-pagans, and by certain heroes. Second to him is Loki, trickster, who was cast down from heaven to a cave, where he is ceaselessly tormented by serpents, and Odin. – Chapter Five, Dead Gods And The Living

Four hundred years ago, I step through the wall of the stone chamber. The knight lies sleeping, and dead; I ring the bell, and he reaches for the scabbard at his hip. It will take three days to reach the surface.

When we get there, the sun is shining. There is work to do.

***

This piece sort of reminds me of a badly-written Neil Gaiman story (an oxymoron, of course.) Seems appropriate, considering it’s origin.

Everything in this piece means something, incidentally. The exception is the title Dead Gods And The Living, which replaces a title I forgot while my laptop was booting. So, in a way, that means something too – although I’m damned if I’m going to decide what at 4:35 AM.

Sunday, 20th January, 2013

hello, world!

Well, I finally got myself a blog. I registered this while at Taizé (look it up, you have internet), where I had both a notebook and lots of free time, so I’ll type up some of my handwritten musings and post them here. [EDIT: I have since lost the notebook] ’till I get around to doing that, this site will continue to look like the placeholder I’m using it as.

(Incidentally, I’m writing this using the browser on my Ninetendo™ DSi XL, which is surprisingly effective. (I give the full title to distinguish from the new 3DS.))

I assume you come from the future, and this is an archive, since I have yet to mention this blog to anyone. Good for you, not enough people read archives like this. Well, archive’s over, this is my first post. Hence the name.

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