Real Time and In Depth: The New Journalism

I used to be a writer. As in, I got paid to write. Those were good times.

Now I'm a secretary, but I still write, and I do a lot more thinking about writing than I did when I was an actual writer. Those who can, do; those who can't, think about it at work when they're supposed to be doing data entry.

So here's what I've been thinking lately. The Internet changed the game in terms of information. Now success isn't determined by "in-depth," it's determined by "up-to-date" and "real-time." My task, as a blog writer, is to strike a balance between the two and give you, the audience, something that is quick and up to date, but also informative, original, and in-depth.

Fortunately, I don't write actual news. So here my analysis, brief, in-depth, original, and informative, of the robot receptionist they made in Japan.

Yes, the thought of robots replacing actual humans is a bit scary, but despite the creepiness of her face, let's not get all panicky and declare war on the Machine. Robots and humans--are we really so different? Humans, after all, are creatures of habit, programmable, predictable, and utterly boring. Sure, every now and again we'll crap out a genius or a game changer, but the vast majority of us are entrenched in our habits and have very basic needs that don't change a lot between individuals.

Take a receptionist: Hello, how can I help you? Do you know who you'd like to see? Do you have an appointment? Please have a seat, someone will be right with you.

What does it matter if a real person is saying that or a robot? The script doesn't change. A receptionist is never asked to extrapolate how the law of entropy applies to systems in a vacuum, or to break down and reassemble a Glock 9 millimeter blindfolded. The most complicated question she'll ever answer is, Which bathroom should I use if I dress like a woman but stand up to pee?

Hey, wait, I'm pretty much a receptionist. That robot is stealing my job! Where's my torch? Where's my rifle? No foreign machine is taking food from the mouths of THIS honest American's mutant alien love babies that I keep stashed in the closet to guard against the eventual zombie uprising.

And that's how you write a blog.

Weekly roundup

So ends another week in the service of my robot overlords, or Robolords, as the brain implants instruct me to call them on casual Fridays.

I usually don't post on the weekends, so to keep you occupied while I'm away, here is a roundup of things that made me smile while toiling in the rare metal mines.

On my recent trip to Spokane, I unfortunately didn't get any pictures of the trailers and RVs in the Walmart parking lot, which is apparently an acceptable home address in today's economic climate. Fortunately, there's peopleofwalmart.com, because you should feel superior. (Seriously, look at the grill of that woman to the right. This planet is just begging to be destroyed!)

For a brief history of human awesomeness, here is a video making the rounds on the netterwebs, chronicling 100 years of special effects in films. Visual Effects: 100 Years of Inspiration.

And now for a bit of local color. This is a recently completed mural in Bedstuy that I saw on my way to work. I think it adds a bit of much-needed Mother Africa-flair to the area. Sadly, these may be the only rolling hills and huge, benevolent water goddesses many of the people in Bedstuy will ever see.

Next up is the Surreal Temping portion of the post. A coworker at the office had a bike custom made for her. Needless to say, she doesn't leave her new toy chained outside to to a lamp post during business hours, but instead, brings in inside for all of us to envy. Check out the handlebars.

For those strange people who mysteriously decided NOT to live in Hawaii, Kona is the name of a town on the Big Island, and Primo is a famous brand of Hawaiian beer that disappeared in the 80s and recently reappeared in every Longs and 7-11s from Honolulu to Waianae. How my coworker from Brooklyn ended up with the phrase "Kona Oh Primo" on her handlebars, I'll probably never know.

And finally, everyone's favorite game, What the Hell is That?! Whoever can guess the identity and/or origin of whatever the hell this is gets an extra ten-minute bathroom break between scalvaging copper wiring in the E-wasteland and quietly weeping into the daily ration of protein meal our Roboverlords so generously give us in return for complete obedience and adulation. Have a great weekend!