Category Archives: Questions

“harmless” Bots and WordPress.com

WordPress.com “Happiness Engineers” have repeatedly declared to me, in email correspondence, that bots who troll my account and latch on as “Followers” are “harmless.”

Within the past hour, I have been reading the Mueller report. According to this report, from as recently as 2014 the Internet Research Agency, or IRA, a Russian funded group put in place to influence public perception – principally for political reasons – used both fake internet personas and bots to accomplish their objectives.

If bots could be used by such an agency, what lucid reader or writer is going to believe anymore that a bot is harmless?

WordPress.com, I hereby put you on notice. Protect our accounts, and our material, by whatever means possible. Many of us are paying yearly for our domains, yet we are persistently trolled by aliases posing as legitimate WordPress.com and other websites.

Thank you.

littlebarefeetblog.com

Ruth Ann Scanzillo, author and administrator.    4/19/19

 

 

 

 

Two Plane Crashes and the Death of Accountability.

 

The world is, indeed, flat. But, it’s vertical, and small enough to exclude everything that was ever important. Like the value of life.

Did anybody see the press release?

Boeing pilots transitioned to the 737 Max 8 by taking a “self-administered online test” which made no mention of a critical program, the MCAS (maneuvering characteristics augmentation system) which ultimately brought about not one, but the two, deadly crashes now part of our visceral history.

I can recall testing, when I was a child. The memories are also visceral.

You studied all week. The night before, your mother (the woman who bore you) would ask you the pre-test set of questions which either your best teachers had already devised and provided as study guides, or those which she herself had composed after thoroughly perusing your test material. Biting your nails and squinting, you answered them until they were all correct. Then, you went to bed, squirming with anxiety in anticipation of the next day in the Court of Assessment.

Granted, some of us conquered testing by sheer memorization, the rote kind, devoid of actual comprehension but note-perfect and able to be recited in a heartbeat under pressure.

Those of us who knew that getting good grades was the only path to a good job and a secure life took our tests seriously. We really couldn’t have cared less about the students who blew them off by cheating or skipping them entirely. We were in it to make it. We were that proud.

Oh; and, the proctor. The proctor was always live. That teacher never left the room, not for a second. Eyes on our eyes, the whole time.

Wow. Can you name the number of things which have changed, since our day? How long is your list? Bullet points?

Can we fully imagine that those who take some 182 humans lives in their very hands, every day, as soon as they step into the cockpit, wouldn’t be at least as serious as we were when we were just kids?

We can’t blame the pilots. It’s the testing system, itself. What robot is responsible for the “self-administered” online questionnaire, in the first place, and which computer genius was it who enabled the software? And, above all, which flight specialist designer overlooked including the critical component change ignorance of which brought down the planes?

Gone is the age of accountability. In its place, software. A series of apps. Nobody looks over anybody’s shoulder, anymore. Nobody looks at anybody, or anything — except the screen in front of them. We’ve managed to get sucked into an alternative universe, one with only two dimensions. Flat.

When Humpty Dumpty fell off the wall, though they may have tried valiantly all the King’s minions couldn’t repair his shell. But, maybe, once enough body parts are collected from the rubble of a shattered jet, somebody will look up and face what’s really there. In three dimensions.

That’s the test. Will we pass it?

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3/22/19 *originally published at Medium.com as Two Plane Crashes and the Absence of Accountability.   Ruth Ann Scanzillo.

littlebarefeetblog.com

That Impeccable Word.

 

You know, those Four Agreements….

What a tough call.

At first glance, keeping our word impeccable seems easy enough. We imagine ourselves quite separate from those who would wish ill on others, or who would do anything deliberately which could damage another living thing.

And, then, a bug crawls across the sofa, and we smash it without a second thought.

Being emotionally available, and able to express oneself, is a two edged sword. On the one hand, those of us inclined can be counted on to be, at the very least, genuine; in short, we always mean what we say because our words come – albeit readily – from the latest, authentic impulse to pass through our cortex.

The fact that others may not wish to be subject to our earnest thoughts never occurs to us until, out of nowhere, we find ourselves avoided or dismissed.

Those who keep their emotional selves locked and loaded fare far better. Nobody ever knows what they are truly thinking or feeling, so being in the presence of such a person is no immediate threat to a stable social atmosphere. And, rooms fill with people who put forth little by way of authenticity, all of them interacting and exchanging with one another without rancor or incident. The play, within the play.

Keeping one’s word impeccable, according to the author of the book cited, is really about being sure never to allow a single disparaging comment to escape our lips or our pen. This rules out any expression of frustration, agitation, offense, or other negative feeling; in short, while we may feel it, we are not to speak it.

I wonder where the author puts his feelings about others’ behavior? Does he just ruminate, in silence? Perhaps he encases them in some fictitious character, so as to flesh out his reactions to them…

Does the scale of justice tip of some inherent volition?

I seriously wonder whose role it is to expose wrongdoing. Who protects others from exploitation, from malignment, from abuse? Who, or what, calls out the offender –  a lightning bolt, from God Almighty?

My grandfather was a street preacher. He roared his judgments across North Park Row to the center of State Street. He declared his beliefs, publicly. He held forth inside, as well, from the pulpit of the Gospel Assembly Hall on East Avenue. And, when the parents of a married woman were ex-communicated from the assembly because of their daughter’s behavior, he stood and loudly defended them. This action pronounced a reaction upon him by the one man permitted to do so; accused of “railing”, my grandfather was also ex-communicated from his beloved fellowship.

Whence the role of the impeccable word, here?

On this day which celebrates love in all its forms, perhaps we could spend a moment contemplating how we go about living in peace. Is it by turning a blind eye to corruption, to manipulation, to crimes against humanity?

Love, always. Bearing all.

Impeccably.

The ultimate call.

You tell me.

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© 2/14/19   Ruth Ann Scanzillo.    Thank you for respecting original material.

littlebarefeetblog.com