The Middle Finger Society - 01 - Do ants understand the universe?

I love quiz challenges. Endless hours of contemptible topic choices and arguments over answers. Quiz nights before Google could start civil wars and violent protests at the Methodist Church Community Hall from mismatched source material or the fact the public library in my home town only held one copy of Thompsons International Annual and a billion copies of the Guinness Book of World Records and for some insane decision the local Quizzical Society, that was their official title, overuled every dispute favoring the Thompons International Annual as being factually correct when when absolutely nobody in town could ever see the damn book because it was on permanent loan to the Quizzical Society loonies and they would not share. Online quiz taking of today triggers my PTSD however I recently braved the traumatizing Q&A for what Artificial Ignorance determined to be the "Ultimate" quiz an algorithm could generate.

Question 1: What is considered the most universal sign used by Society?

According to the algorithm responsible the answer is certainly not the middle finger or flipping the bird or the California howdy or the one digit salute. Silly algorithm got it all wro g. This is another fine example of dysfunction in the system. I remember one of the first computer related challenges I encountered in my career was the String Truncation error. It came up often, it was annoying but easy to correct. The difficult part was explaining it to the end user, the paying customer, why they required hardware upgrades. Computers don't run out of space, not anymore they don't but they once did and maybe Y2K was our overreaction. Welcome to the impass between people and computers, it's my belief the quantum singularity will only be reached upon clearing this impass. Now we have AI and all the complexity of explaining the existence of the known universe to an ant before you step on it. Maybe ants understand the universe better than we do. Millennial thinking is non existent, like that's what AI does, totally. But AI doesn't think, not by design, it's ability to reason and comprehend and thus generate solutions isn't thinking. People still need to do the thinking. Herein lies my rub, the people problem. Society is a hustle set to copy and paste indefinitely however the cheap copies are so far degraded from the original material it's literal incomprehensible garbage, you might call it social media. Here's the thing. Millennial thinking cannot formulate an original idea, a single thought. Trying to explain basic comprehension of common sense to the simple minds of the 21st century is comparable to trying to explain the vast scale of the known universe to an ant right before you step on it. To be fair ants probably have a far greater comprehension of the universe than we do. The human solution here, remain ignorant and act dumb. Most people aren't acting. It infuriates me everytime one of these Muppets inform me about the changing times. Well no shit genius I am of sound faculty to observe the constant of change necessary for the continuation of life however this change you speak of can be polarized as good or bad, we're currently experiencing bad change. There is so much crap going on in the the world it's inducing sensory overload. The Matrix has us and there is no disconnect. My phone goes nuclear when I swipe to unlock it, let's take a moment to appreciate the mushroom cloud melting my face off. I would go to my happy place but that is a closely guarded secret I keep well away from the digital apocalypse. But I do have somewhere to go; music. I certainly miss the Walkman I cherished in my youth. I commended its successors the Discman, the iPod and Nokia mobiles but I mostly miss the headphone design of the Walkman. People saw your wearing a pair and left you well alone. I put air pods in my ears and everyone interprets it as a sign to converse or preach or lecture or monologue or talk to me for all eternity instead of just leaving me the hell alone. I too am guilty of disturbing this peace. We need to disconnect from the constant content assault, skip, focing our engagement, skip, by demanding we like, share, comment, subscribe, join, sign up, become a member and pay for it, skip. The programming is deliberate that I'm subconsciously clicking the skip button in my own content. I understand everyone needs a outlet but why is it original content creation requires commercial incentives for algorithm approval? 

This concept feels medieval, performers traveling among society pedaling their talents for coins, I called it mixtapes back in the day, you know, the old times. 

Ja-nee Frikkie - Dirkie Dirkie Camo

When Frikkie throws the spanner wrenches into the works it's usually the shiny 10mm chrome sockets you can never find in the blerry toolbox but the Oom in limpopo who go shooting for the kudu T bone steaks for the braai vleis insisted an invitation Frikkie be smaaking the plan of trekking to the bush for long naweek hunting trip with the ouens from his work place. So the ouens are groot okes that fill the cab of a Ford Ranger, those plaas seuns built like kak brickhouses can klap a bush pig with a .22 winbuks tussen two Castles van smalls off. And then there is the new china from the oriental plaza, OK he comes from Chatsworth and he got one of those lekker foreign names too, Gerald. With all the gooses keen for the long naweek they sommer gooi all the Bushmaster gear on the back of the Rangers for us, toe says liefie, 'geniet, we're going to spa, haai weet jy take the new guy saam met jou.'

Gerald being the only single digit who didn't have his own Ranger mean Gerald doesn't trek into the bushveld to shoot the kudu T bone steaks for the braaivleis; bakgat, Gerald rode along with Frikkie, off to Buffelsfontein plaas in the limpopo to shoot the kudu T bone steaks for the braaivleis. On the farm in Buffelsfontein plaas stayed Oom Neels, second removed from Frikkie's cousin side of the tree, practically family, Oom Neels knew all the words to the Steve Hofmeyer songs by memory, he'd seen jare se kak in just a few days and he could drive a Hilux in petrol and diesel so he was tough oke.

'Manne,' that's how Oom Neels said hello to peoples, actually that's about the thing he said because he had that stare in his eyes that made the manne, manne and the boer goats nervous. Anyways we were right for the shooting. Almal with their .308 rifles and Gerald, OK Gerald knew tussen niks en fokkol about firearms but he looked like a fresh laaitie so we decide to let use the fetch gun. Daar staan Oom Neels, khaki safari short. The ouens in their best Bushmaster camo you can buy from the Cape Onion Mart and Gerald in sy dirkie dirkie suit. A camo dirkie dirkie suit nogal. There stand Gerald camouflaged head to toe with just the eyes cutouts like the old poskantoor post boxes in front of the town hall. Anyways, we trek deep into the bush after a groot kudu bull who could scrumhalf for the bokke, two days we trek after him when between the silence Gerald swing out his fetch gun to klap it so hard he went over backwards two times twice, end over end like a dung beetle onder n drol. Oom Neels klapped that kudu with a two stroke. The ouens loaded it on the Hilux back and I went to find Gerald, rolled up under a wagabietjie tree like a kersfees present still holding the fetch gun. Through twee blue eyes, snot running nose and the new gap between his front teeth Gerald smiling asked if he shoot on the target. Ja-nee Gerald, ja-nee. He klapped the side of the baobab tree a few yards behind the kudu. The pellet struck een groot hornet nest that fell into the front cab of the Limpopo provincial park and recreations game Ranger oke who, unbeknown to us, was tracking the bush poachers from Bulawayo. He'd stopped to sieze their cache tucked inside the baobab maar the blerry trok wheel went porridge from porcupine pen poking through it. Like angry bokke fans when the Castle runs out before half-time at Loftus those blerry hornets were kwaad. Now for reasons nobody could understand Gerald had a plan, of action and for one or other reason a smoke grenade in his back pocket, which he gooied into the mix of angry hornets and angrier game Ranger. Frikkie are learn two things just then; hornets are not afraid of smoke grenades and mense in Limpopo knows far too much about the blerry Taliban. Gerald had landed on the Monopoly square, tronk toe boetjie. Frikke had explained to the magistrate about Gerald being on a first time hunt and not trying to invade Buffelsfontein Plaas despite his camouflage Dirkie Dirkie dress and fetch gun. Again there were no kudu steaks for the braaivleis want Oom Neels paid it over to the magistrate for Gerald's fine. Thanks Gerald, true story, ja-nee.

Ja-nee Frikkie - Totterkop

Long ago in a distant land, ok it's Brakpan, lived an oke called Frikkie and one Saturday he sat with the manne in a bar watching the rugby. After seven or eight Cokes, with some brannes added to the ice cubes Frikkie got a plan in his head. First he shouted "go bokke", go bokke, then he went to the bathroom then he ordered another Coke with the funny tasting ice cubes when he come back then he picked up the moerse stuk biltong he got as a gift from the Oom who went to Limpopo to shoot a kudu T bone steak to gooi on the braaivleis but instead shoot the eland because of the blerry sitbok there in the middle of the dirt road. Anyways, Frikkie was not wanting to chew on the moerse stuk biltong like a blue bull on the lion pitch so he reached into his short to pull out sy knipmessie that his Oupa brought back from the Voortrekker War but instead, at the same time he pulled out his totterkop as well. Now there are mirrors at the bar and when frikkie is turning to counter he sees himself in the mirror, he sees that lekker stukkie biltong by his Coke with the funny tasting ice cubes in it and then he see it, moving. Without thought, from the moer van a skok Frikke reacted like the armed response securities with the disco lights on the roof of the cars he hit the totterkop with his knipmessie that he also pull out of his short, he klap it on instinct sommer een-twee-drie but instead of shout "go bokke", go bokke, when the klaps land he shout something else, not very nice words to describe the goose's kittens, then he scream, very loudly but not for the bokke. Legend says that if you stand in front of a mirror on a Saturday during a bokke rugby spel, go bokke, with a Coke in your one hand, not forgetting the ice cubes with the funny brannes taste, and you hold moerse stuk biltong from the Limpopo from where you went to shoot a kudu T bone steak to gooi on the braaivleis in your two hand and you look into the mirror and say "totterkop" drie keer then Frikkie will show up langs jou and PK you for being a doos sonder your knipmessie in pocket of your short. True story, ja-nee.

The Middle Finger Society - 02 - That's above your pay grade.

I cannot comprehend the insanity of modern living. Technology was designed to ease the burden of labour, promote effective and efficient production, it was designed to simplify and streamline how society was to build and grow into the future. Why then have stupid people decided to overly complicate everything?

I'm an advocate for the use of a needlessly complicated system of levers and pulleys to accomplish the smallest of tasks but the current modern state of anarchy trumps even me. A.I. the artificial idiot in the chat room is smarter than the natural idiots in same chat room. Their incomprehensible ability to draw breath defies science. Everyone is well aware the biggest waste of time in the known universe, attending business meetings. These online echo chambers cause me great personal anguish and severe secondary onset of PTSD because stupid people contribute to mental distress while the world plunges balls first into the downward spiral my concern for the echo chambers of AI expansion stealing from them the very ability to think goes unnoticed by those of greater lesser minds. It pains me to converse with these beings because they consider themselves equal to me. Well they're not. I have purpose, I know how to stop the rise of the machines, I have common sense and a firm command of the English language. So what gets lost in translation?

Sarcasm. If I need to explain Sarcasm to you, it's above your pay grade. Let's visit the world of WhatsApp so find the source of my discontent. Passing contextual commentary on current events always finds the slowest user in the group chat, the Karen in our lives. Look if I need to explain a Karen to you...

The irony of this particular example of Sarcasm getting lost in translation was the value of human life was overshadowed by the value of computer life. My commentary on a viral video of an armed robbery of "no computers were harmed during the robbery" was taken literal. If I need to explain irony to you, it's above your pay grade. Thus we spiral into an oblivion of frustrated face palms because, it's above your Karen's pay grade.

The Middle Finger Society - 03 - Special Skills need not apply

I applied for a job recently, one of those tech companies on the cutting edge of developing the future according to their catchy company slogan gratuitously slathered on every surface bearing the company name. This was the important interview, the face to face sit down with the company gatekeepers. Having taken the preliminary application questionnaire, the introductory online interview and the second callback chat. My skillset, work experience, KnowledgeBase and certified qualifications serve as sufficient application. I'm greeted warmly at the reception desk as I wait a company representative to meet me for our appointment. 

'So, like we're really excited to have you join us, you know, as part of the team.'

Hollow sentiment from Billy, head of technical design and security management. Billy the millennial boy wonder is hip and cool with his sleeve tattoos, Viking style haircut and face fur. Billy has it all figured out, theoretically. I smile politely trying to steer away for awkward silence and uncomfortable conversation as we walk toward the meeting room while resisting the autonomic action of reaching into my pocket to retrieve my phone, that's just rude. It's a short enough walk. Billy ushers me in front of a waiting panel of Billy clones, human looking enough for my liking. I'm seated as we exchange introductions, meet Cindi (with an I), Denzel (with no I, lol) and Charlie whose pronouns I cared not to remember. The team asked their questions in turn and I answered in turn. A formal face to face is where the sizing up is done. I had the measure a Billy before I shook his hand in reception and the other three before I'd sat down for the meeting. Charlie was going to be fun. My skillset, work experience, KnowledgeBase and certified qualifications serve as sufficient application, this was the test of character for the company hierarchy. Everyone seemed pleased until Charile asked a question.

'So, do you like, have any special skills we don't already know about?'

Folks it's been fun, thanks for you time, I'll show myself out expressed across their collective faces. My response was unexpected.

"As a matter of fact," I reply while retrieving my phone from my pocket, "Bubblegum-6-7 is today's Wi-Fi password, I read it on the whiteboard on the way up,' opening the app on phone I recite, 'AI, protocol Alpha one thirteen, AI AI go.'

Synchronized notifications illuminated their devices. The building lights flickered momentarily, blacked out for several minutes then came back. I turned my attention to Charlie,

'You might want to take that call.'

Charlie's phone reponds on queue, they leave the room. Seconds later the building fire alarm sounded, everyone headed to the emergency exits. 'Please remain seated,' I tell the others, 'the premises is being locked down for quarantine. The authorities will find that mysterious canister, theyre currently searching the basement. Don't worry about Charlie, maybe worry about Charile.'

The unavoidable awkward silence entered the room. Their questions expressed on their faces.

'Information. All data has been rendered down to algorithms. The security of information is questions and answers, I ask questions.'

Looking at my phone again, I swipe, the lights come back on. 

'I ask questions, technology presents the answers, I ask more questions. It doesn't matter the complexity we put in place, questions need answers.'

The fire alarm stopped. My phone pinged again. 

'A word of caution with the information you put in the public domain, don't ask questions you don't want answered.'