The Bowling Talk [2]: Living Means Dealing with the Strikes and Gutters

Are Conspiracy Theory Extremists what happen when Citizen Scientists and Armchair Warriors breed?

What will the conspiracy theorists say about Google hosting Ethereum on bigQuery? Seriously, they're doing daily updates of the Ethereum blockchain to the Big Data Behemoth. Are you ready to get your conspira-query on?

Read the Google blog post

Do I see some Little Lebowski Urban Achievers?

"The thirteen colonies threw off their rulers and formed the Republic so-called. The slaves were their own masters. There were no more masters of the sword. But you couldn't get along without masters of some sort, and there arose a new set of masters–not the great, virile noble men, but the shrewd and spidery traders and money-lenders. And they enslaved you all over again–but not frankly, as the true, noble men would do with weight of their own right arms, but secretly, by spidery machinations and by wheedling and cajoling and lies. They have purchased your slave judges, they have debauched your slave legislatures, and they have forced to worse horrors than chattel slavery your slave boys and girls. Two million of your children are toiling today in this trade-oligarchy of the United States. Ten millions of your slaves are not properly sheltered nor properly fed.”
― Jack London, Martin Eden

Screw the Conspiracy Theorists and Google's Data Addiction, I'm going bowling.

We can live our lives fearing what the big data people will learn. Or, we can overburden them with so much data, they'll never sift it all. It's like, why don't we ETH party so much they call the cops on the cops who join our ETH party.

Dude, read that shit again. Nobody said, METH.

“Their highest concept of right conduct, in his case, was to get a job. That was their first word and their last. It constituted their whole lexicon of ideas. Get a job! Go to work! Poor, stupid slaves, he thought, while his sister talked. Small wonder the world belonged to the strong. The slaves were obsessed by their own slavery. A job was to them a golden fetich before which they fell down and worshipped.”
― Jack London, Martin Eden

Tides oscillate. Abide the flow.

The truth of all experience: oscillation. If you can't wrap your mind around the ups and downs, then you'll never abide the flow. All the inputs we receive come to us in waves, dig it?

“Sensation invested itself in form and color and radiance, and what his imagination dared, it objectified in some sublimated and magic way. Past, present, and future mingled; and he went on oscillating across the broad, warm world, through high adventure...”
― Jack London, Martin Eden

Persevere in the Face of Mountainous Odds

It's a hard climb up Abiding Mountain. Oddly, it's not the mountain that makes the climb hard.

“He felt the stress and strain of life, its fevers and sweats and wild insurgences—surely this was the stuff to write about! He wanted to glorify the leaders of forlorn hopes, the mad lovers, the giants that fought under stress and strain, amid terror and tragedy, making life crackle with the strength of their endeavor. ”
― Jack London, Martin Eden

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Martin Eden by Jack London

"Strikes and gutters. Ups and downs."

"Yeah, well, the Dude abides." — the Dude

Take it easy, Dudes!

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Didn't find these quotes from Martin Eden until after I posted. I guess I could have added it to the post. At the same time, here:

On Writing Realism:

"He had entitled the story “Adventure,” and it was the apotheosis of adventure—not of the adventure of the storybooks, but of real adventure, the savage taskmaster, awful of punishment and awful of reward, faithless and whimsical, demanding terrible patience and heartbreaking days and nights of toil, offering the blazing sunlight glory or dark death at the end of thirst and famine or of the long drag and monstrous delirium of rotting fever, through blood and sweat and stinging insects leading up by long chains of petty and ignoble contacts to royal culminations and lordly achievements."
― Jack London, Martin Eden

On Living Realism:

"His knees were trembling under him, he felt faint, and he staggered back to the bed, sinking down and sitting on the edge of it. He was still in the clutch of the past. He looked about the room, perplexed, alarmed, wondering where he was, until he caught sight of the pile of manuscripts in the corner. Then the wheels of memory slipped ahead through four years of time, and he was aware of the present, of the books he had opened and the universe he had won from their pages, of his dreams and ambitions, and of his love for a pale wraith of a girl, sensitive and sheltered and ethereal, who would die of horror did she witness but one moment of what he had just lived through—one moment of all the muck of life through which he had waded."
― Jack London, Martin Eden