the mofo with the info.

1. Meditations on Babel

Look at units of measurement. I’m pretty sure that every kid in the civilized world, when they first learn of the differing units of weight, measurements of length, and degree scales for temperature, thinks to themselves at some point… what the fuck? Every seven year old that struggles remembering how many inches equal how many centimeters (and that it’s actually centimeters, you damn Yank), must think to themselves, what purpose do these competing systems offer?

Look at driving. Someone, somewhere, at some time invented automobiles and motorcycles, and through word-of-mouth, demonstration, and those nifty Mitsubishi ads with über-cool music, convinced the civilized world that they were a pretty neat thing to have. Now… how, in the spreading of this idea from person-to-person, did some people decide that it was a good idea to drive on the left side rather than the right or vice versa? If it wasn’t for my local friends and relatives, I would have been turned into roadkill 10 times over now, with my 26 years of experience looking left before crossing a street.

Look at spelling. This topic is too exhausting to cover right now, but the American version of spelling “check” just makes more sense. Right now, Australians spell the bill at a restaurant “cheque”, and then the v-shaped mark that you put in a box “check”. However, when signaling for the “cheque”, they make a “check” in the air towards their waters. Unless this is some sort of hilarious visual pun, then their system is just inconsistent, and silly.

And you don’t even want to know how many power adapters I’m lugging around in my suitcase.

Maybe it’s because I just read Snow Crash or because I’m doing my “Australasian tour” at the same time as everyone else I know, but I can’t help but notice that most of the differences dividing Americans and our pseudo-English speaking brethren here are basically standards issues. So many of these ideas are tied into our concepts of nationalism, and serve as a large part of our cultural pride; I know that a lot of the American spelling differences were a conscious effort on the part of American revolutionaries to rebel from their tea-sipping bastard parents. Is there any hope for a unified system of standards, such that a global coalition could eventually be formed, which will eventually join the United Federation of Planets in the distant future? For the sake of the possibility of First Contact and the Prime Directive, I beg that all people of the world unite behind a common standard! Naturally, we should just use the American systems, as they’re pretty much a global standard, right? While were at it… It’s pronounced “soccer”.

2. The Prophet of Coolness

The great thing about being an American tourist, is that you can be the most out-of-touch loser in the United States, and still be more ahead of cultural trends than every single person you meet. Though not one of these Wallaby-eating Aussies (dat’s pronounced “ozzies”) has heard of “Death Cab for Cutie”, I can tell them with total certainty that they will be huge here in about two months, and they nod eagerly, as if I have shared with them some secret gem of cultural importance; they look around nervously, as I have surely violated the space-time continuum by delivering this gooey nugget, stolen from their future airwaves. Despite never having watched a single episode of last season’s American Idol, I know who won; this information is apparently toxic to the local television viewers here, who constantly beg and barter with me not to reveal this classified information (Note to self: make a t-shirt). In an age of the blogs, Wikipedia, and BitTorrent (for the non-savages out there), it seems that the people here live in constant fear of having their cultural future revealed to them, and only remain ignorant through extreme diligence. At the same time though, they sit enrapt as I regale them with tales of the modern United States, and, by inference, their own dark and unavoidable path. I guess it’s no difference from Californians waiting 3 hours to find out who their Next Top Model or American Idol, or Survivor, or Apprentice is… but I guess I’ve never understood them either.

On a separate note, I also have haunted-looking girls ask me pleadingly to explain what a “Hollaback girl” is. Unable to abate their confusion, I look away, as if I have not heard their question…

3. Touristy Crap

ZOMG! Kangaroos!!one!

The perennial Christmas classic “Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer” is a powerful commentary on the effect of external authority on the social customs of a small population. Though most versions have a lot of unnecessary material at the introduction (particularly the overdrawn Harry Connick Jr. version), the message of the song can be found in the last three stanzas:

All of the other reindeer used to laugh and call him names
They would never let poor rudolph join in any reindeer games.

Then one foggy Christmas Eve, Santa came to say:
“Rudolph with your nose so bright, won’t you guide my sleigh tonight?

Then all the reindeer loved him, and they shouted out with glee
Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer, you’ll go down in history.

Though wrapped in jingly bells and drenched in eggnog, this story is actually a grim condemnation of “reindeer games”, or what Nietzsche would refer to as a “slave morality”. Though the reindeer initially shun the mutated Rudolph in order to preserve their social order, a single nod of approval from Santa, their employer and presumably their owner, we are supposed to believe that these formerly vicious cliques suddenly not only accepted the former outcast, but “loved” him. The reindeer are not only content to drag that fat red bastard around like their Sysiphusian weight, they also allow him to dictate their social mores and, one can assume, their sexual selection. Like the horses who affectionately nuzzle the same riders who dig into their underbellies with spurs and whip them with crops, the reindeers have created a morality completely flexible and dependent on the approval of a force outside of their own society. Rudolph is no better than his fellow slaves to external influence; he is unable to defend himself or assert his sexual and social fitness upon his population without the help of an outside influence; even Santa is not swayed by any outstanding personality traits or qualities that might recommend Rudolph as a good reindeer other than the simple mutation that caused his nose to glow.

If the reader then extrapolates beyond the limited lyrics of the childrens’ song, it will quickly become apparent that this kind of behavior describes a mechanism in which the traits exhibited in a limited population can be dramatically changed in response to a non-environmental vector. “Santa” so subtlely influences the impressionable reindeer that Rudolph will necessarily be the prime stud in the next reindeer mating season, and in two or three generations, the mutated red-nose phenotype will be widespread in the limited gene pool. While Santa will no doubt tire of this night-light trick, it will have unforeseen repurcussions on the reindeer population when the clumsy beasts are now easier targets for predators such as polar bears and raptors. As the population of reindeer dwindles in the coming decades, Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer will certainly “go down in history” along with the rest of his soon-to-be-extinct race, murdered by their own folly. In this manner Santa poses the problematic role of the malicious or indifferent intelligent designer, who has shaped the formation of a certain culture not to be better adapted for survival, but for his own arbitrary whims.

A well-read friend of mine sent me a disturbing e-mail the other day. After another friend recommended Ender’s Game to her, she discounted the book after reading the amazon review:

I just started to read the Amazon synopsis of Ender’s Game and had to stop reading after this sentence: Aliens have attacked Earth twice and almost destroyed the human species.

I don’t think I can comment on this.

I consider this friend to be one of the most reliable litmus tests in terms of book recommendations; to see her reject a book out of hand (cart?) because of the mention of “Aliens” showed a closed mindedness that was disappointing, but not at all unusual, given the broad perception of the sci-fi genre as a whole. Between Star Trek Conventions and Hollywood remakes of Philip K. Dick novels, science fiction books and movies are generally seen as a niche, cult-appeal, sensationalist works meant mostly for the off-hours Dungeons & Dragons crowd looking for a break from the orc-hunting.
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