Eating The Dinosaur Part 4

This is what the question asker in Boston did not understand: He could not fathom that a person he believed to be working for him had never considered his needs at all. When he listened to a song about the desire to possess a swimming pool in Beverly Hills, it seemed to be the opposite of what he identified as his own desires. He thought it must be cheap sarcasm. When he listened to the song "We Are All on Drugs," it seemed like Cuomo was making a joke that did not have a punch line. In truth, there isn't even a joke. "We Are All on Drugs" is intended to be taken literally, except for the specific use of the word drugs drugs. That was the only abstract aspect of the entire track.1 "Freak Me Out" struck him as the single stupidest moment on the alb.u.m, particularly since the band had started claiming in interviews that the lyrics were about Rivers being frightened by a spider. To the question asker, this explanation made sense; "Freak Me Out" struck him as the single stupidest moment on the alb.u.m, particularly since the band had started claiming in interviews that the lyrics were about Rivers being frightened by a spider. To the question asker, this explanation made sense; of course of course it had to have an inherently facile meaning. Except that it clearly does not. Go on the Internet and read the lyrics-they are amazingly self-evident. It's not about a spider. It's a song about Cuomo walking down the street at night, only to have some random bozo jump in his face and say, "Hey! You're the guy from Weezer! Your band kicks a.s.s! But your alb.u.ms disappoint me! Can I take your picture with my cell phone?" The song is called "Freak Me Out" because it's about being freaked out (and then feeling guilty about your own reaction). The question asker from Boston hated "Freak Me Out" because it did not seem to match any feeling he'd ever had. This is because the inquisitor has absolutely nothing in common with the protagonist who wrote the song. He is not like Rivers Cuomo; he is more like the weirdo in the shadow. it had to have an inherently facile meaning. Except that it clearly does not. Go on the Internet and read the lyrics-they are amazingly self-evident. It's not about a spider. It's a song about Cuomo walking down the street at night, only to have some random bozo jump in his face and say, "Hey! You're the guy from Weezer! Your band kicks a.s.s! But your alb.u.ms disappoint me! Can I take your picture with my cell phone?" The song is called "Freak Me Out" because it's about being freaked out (and then feeling guilty about your own reaction). The question asker from Boston hated "Freak Me Out" because it did not seem to match any feeling he'd ever had. This is because the inquisitor has absolutely nothing in common with the protagonist who wrote the song. He is not like Rivers Cuomo; he is more like the weirdo in the shadow.

2A German film director Werner Herzog sometimes talks about truth being "elastic," a modifier that should indicate his definition of honesty does not have much to do with being literal. His persona is built around fictionalized mythologies: He's perceived as an egomaniac who supposedly pointed a loaded rifle at an actor in order to make him perform. While making the 1976 Bavarian gla.s.s-blowing epic German film director Werner Herzog sometimes talks about truth being "elastic," a modifier that should indicate his definition of honesty does not have much to do with being literal. His persona is built around fictionalized mythologies: He's perceived as an egomaniac who supposedly pointed a loaded rifle at an actor in order to make him perform. While making the 1976 Bavarian gla.s.s-blowing epic Heart of Gla.s.s Heart of Gla.s.s, Herzog hypnotized members of the cast to make them seem zombie-like on-screen. His singular cinematic achievement is 1982's Fitzcarraldo Fitzcarraldo, a movie where hundreds of Peruvian natives drag a 320-ton boat up the side of a mountain, entirely shot without the use of special effects. The dragging of the boat is a fictionalized version of a semi-historical event; in the late nineteenth century, a Peruvian rubber baron pulled a smaller steamship over a South American mountain, but even that craft was disa.s.sembled before it was moved. In other words, Herzog faked the reality of the event, but he did not fake the event itself: What happens in Fitzcarraldo Fitzcarraldo is actually more unbelievable than the story it's based upon. What was fabricated for the sake of the film was considerably more difficult than the factual achievement. To quote Herzog: "Facts create norms, but they do not create illumination." He once said he would only touch truth "with a pair of pliers." This sounds like a metaphor, but maybe it isn't. is actually more unbelievable than the story it's based upon. What was fabricated for the sake of the film was considerably more difficult than the factual achievement. To quote Herzog: "Facts create norms, but they do not create illumination." He once said he would only touch truth "with a pair of pliers." This sounds like a metaphor, but maybe it isn't.

So what does this mean? For one, it tells us that Germans are bizarre. But it also shows how truth is easier to accept when it's stridently unclear. We can watch Fitzcarraldo Fitzcarraldo and see its legitimacy precisely because Herzog is bending all sorts of lies for that final purpose. The situation is fake and the motives are fake, but the boat and the gravity are real. This makes us comfortable. It's the way we're now accustomed to consuming honesty in any film-tangential details are manipulated for the benefit of one Big Truth, which we are supposed to unspool upon retrospection (and also from the cognitive, preexisting understanding that this is a real f.u.c.king mountain and a real f.u.c.king boat, as no one who's ever watched and see its legitimacy precisely because Herzog is bending all sorts of lies for that final purpose. The situation is fake and the motives are fake, but the boat and the gravity are real. This makes us comfortable. It's the way we're now accustomed to consuming honesty in any film-tangential details are manipulated for the benefit of one Big Truth, which we are supposed to unspool upon retrospection (and also from the cognitive, preexisting understanding that this is a real f.u.c.king mountain and a real f.u.c.king boat, as no one who's ever watched Fitzcarraldo Fitzcarraldo was not aware of those facts before seeing it-very often, they're the was not aware of those facts before seeing it-very often, they're the only only things people know about this movie). In other words, this seemingly fanatical episode from things people know about this movie). In other words, this seemingly fanatical episode from Fitzcarraldo Fitzcarraldo is among the most normal things Herzog has ever done as a filmmaker. He has constructed truth through standard (albeit complicated) cinematic means. But this is less interesting than when Herzog delivers truth without construction. That happens less often, but when it does, it's way crazier. This is a man who once consumed his own leather shoe, simply because he promised Errol Morris that this is something he would do. is among the most normal things Herzog has ever done as a filmmaker. He has constructed truth through standard (albeit complicated) cinematic means. But this is less interesting than when Herzog delivers truth without construction. That happens less often, but when it does, it's way crazier. This is a man who once consumed his own leather shoe, simply because he promised Errol Morris that this is something he would do.2 Sometimes Herzog is literal in a manner so straightforward that almost no one pays attention. Sometimes Herzog is literal in a manner so straightforward that almost no one pays attention.

There's a moment like this in Grizzly Man Grizzly Man, Herzog's fascinating 2005 doc.u.mentary about bear fanatic (and eventual bear entree) Timothy Treadwell. Mostly a.s.sembled from Treadwell's own video footage, Grizzly Man Grizzly Man is the story of an idiot (Treadwell) who-upon being rejected for the role of "Woody" on is the story of an idiot (Treadwell) who-upon being rejected for the role of "Woody" on Cheers Cheers- decided to spend the next thirteen years of his life living with Alaskan grizzly bears, videotaping his experiences for a series of nature films. Treadwell views the bears as human peers and talks to them like children, constantly overstepping the (seemingly obvious) boundary between goof ball human and 1,200-pound killing machine. Eventually, Treadwell and his girlfriend are killed and eaten by a bear. But along the way, Herzog quietly (and fairly) dissects the psychology of Treadwell; he spends a stretch of the doc.u.mentary showing how Treadwell would often reshoot scenes of himself in order to control his own perception. He also points out how Treadwell fundamentally lied about a core aspect of his public persona-his girlfriend would sometimes accompany him on these trips into bear country, but Treadwell always insisted (directly into the camera) that he was alone. In many ways, Grizzly Man Grizzly Man is about the very idea of truth. But that shifts when we get to a scene where Timothy discovers that a male grizzly has killed a few innocent bear cubs in order to have s.e.x with their mother. Treadwell is shattered by this event and decries how the world is confusing and painful. But then the camera cuts directly to the face of a bear and the image freezes. And as we look into the frozen, empty eyes of a bear, Herzog's voice-over says this: is about the very idea of truth. But that shifts when we get to a scene where Timothy discovers that a male grizzly has killed a few innocent bear cubs in order to have s.e.x with their mother. Treadwell is shattered by this event and decries how the world is confusing and painful. But then the camera cuts directly to the face of a bear and the image freezes. And as we look into the frozen, empty eyes of a bear, Herzog's voice-over says this: Here, I differ with Treadwell. He seemed to ignore the fact that in nature there are predators. I believe the common denominator of the universe is not harmony but chaos, hostility, and murder.

Because this p.r.o.nouncement is so dramatic (and-quite frankly- because Herzog's voice and accent are so G.o.dd.a.m.n funny), it always makes viewers laugh. It's impossible to watch the scene without laughing, especially since you're staring into the face of a motionless bear who seems to be emoting those same sentiments through mind bullets. It's not a moment most people remember from the film. Yet could there be a more unambiguous thesis for how Herzog views existence? There is no irony here. It is, in many ways, the core of his entire creative career. I can't rephrase his sentences with any greater clarity than what already exists on the page. But this is funny to people But this is funny to people. It makes us laugh, because it's disturbing to take literal thoughts literally.

"I am someone who takes everything very literally," Herzog has said.3 "I simply do not understand irony, a defect I have had since I was able to think independently." That defect, however, is more an issue for his audiences than it is for the director himself. Most of us have the opposite defect: We "I simply do not understand irony, a defect I have had since I was able to think independently." That defect, however, is more an issue for his audiences than it is for the director himself. Most of us have the opposite defect: We only only understand irony, even when it is not there to be understood. understand irony, even when it is not there to be understood.

3A "I can spend all day listing the mistakes the Democrats made both before and during Florida, but I don't care." This is political writer Eric Alterman, speaking into the camera in the doc.u.mentary "I can spend all day listing the mistakes the Democrats made both before and during Florida, but I don't care." This is political writer Eric Alterman, speaking into the camera in the doc.u.mentary An Unreasonable Man An Unreasonable Man, a.n.a.lyzing the 2000 presidential election. "[Ralph] Nader professed to be standing for one thing when in fact he was deliberately causing another thing. The Democrats were just incompetent. Nader was dishonest... To me, he's a very deluded man. He's a psychologically troubled man."

The reason Alterman hates Ralph Nader is obvious and well doc.u.mented: He feels that by running for the office of president and getting 2.7 percent of the vote, Nader cost the 2000 election for Al Gore and subjected the United States to the most reactionary presidential administration in recent history. Many Americans feel this way; had 10 percent of the 97,421 people who voted for Nader in Florida supported Gore by default, everything about this country would be (in some way) different. There is no mathematical way around this. Alterman's essential point is true-in practice, Nader's decision to run for the presidency was bad for America. But his perception of Nader as a person is completely wrong. To people like Alterman, Nader seems delusional and troubled and dishonest. But this is because people who follow politics closely cannot comprehend people who aren't partially lying. They are intellectually paralyzed by literal messages.

While running against Hillary Clinton in the race for the 2008 Democratic nomination, eventual U.S. president Barack Obama came under fire for his long-standing spiritual relationship with the Chicago Reverend Jeremiah Wright, a preacher who claimed the U.S. government created AIDS in order to destroy the black race. Wright had been the officiant at Obama's marriage and baptized Obama's children; when first pressed on the issue, Obama said he could no more disown Wright than he could disown his own grandmother.4 But the reverend refused to shut up; he kept making crazier and crazier statements. A few weeks later, Obama disowned him completely. This was seen as a totally rational, wholly acceptable move. I would have done the same thing. When Obama compared Wright to his grandmother, no one had really believed him; when he cut Wright loose, only the most partisan Republicans labeled him a hypocrite. What he did was normal, understandable, and nonliteral: It's what makes Obama a reasonable man and a (potentially) good president. We immediately recognize that his literal comparison of Wright to his grandmother is different than his actual feelings. Yet this is precisely the kind of unwritten dichotomy Ralph Nader would never accept. Nader might be the most stridently literal man who has ever gained traction in the modern political arena. Werner Herzog says he cannot understand irony, but at least he can create it for other people; Nader is a perpetual sincerity machine. His critics insist that he's a megalomaniac, and that's almost certainly true-but it's But the reverend refused to shut up; he kept making crazier and crazier statements. A few weeks later, Obama disowned him completely. This was seen as a totally rational, wholly acceptable move. I would have done the same thing. When Obama compared Wright to his grandmother, no one had really believed him; when he cut Wright loose, only the most partisan Republicans labeled him a hypocrite. What he did was normal, understandable, and nonliteral: It's what makes Obama a reasonable man and a (potentially) good president. We immediately recognize that his literal comparison of Wright to his grandmother is different than his actual feelings. Yet this is precisely the kind of unwritten dichotomy Ralph Nader would never accept. Nader might be the most stridently literal man who has ever gained traction in the modern political arena. Werner Herzog says he cannot understand irony, but at least he can create it for other people; Nader is a perpetual sincerity machine. His critics insist that he's a megalomaniac, and that's almost certainly true-but it's sincere sincere megalomania. His arrogance is not misplaced. He lives in an inflexible world of complete moral cert.i.tude. He authentically believes that all of his values are 100 percent correct. Granted, this is an oddly common perspective within partisan politics; it's always shocking how much blind confidence people absorb from party propaganda. But the difference is in how people present that cert.i.tude. When Obama megalomania. His arrogance is not misplaced. He lives in an inflexible world of complete moral cert.i.tude. He authentically believes that all of his values are 100 percent correct. Granted, this is an oddly common perspective within partisan politics; it's always shocking how much blind confidence people absorb from party propaganda. But the difference is in how people present that cert.i.tude. When Obama5 or Sarah Palin or Rachel Maddow or Glenn Beck speak, we take for granted that-at the very least-they are partially (and consciously) lying. They are asking us to view their sentiments through preexisting filters we have all inherited through media; we take the verbatim sentences, consider the person's larger motive, search for code and subtext in the specific words and phrases, and triangulate the true meaning. But Nader doesn't work like this. Nader speaks literally, and that makes him superfluous. or Sarah Palin or Rachel Maddow or Glenn Beck speak, we take for granted that-at the very least-they are partially (and consciously) lying. They are asking us to view their sentiments through preexisting filters we have all inherited through media; we take the verbatim sentences, consider the person's larger motive, search for code and subtext in the specific words and phrases, and triangulate the true meaning. But Nader doesn't work like this. Nader speaks literally, and that makes him superfluous.6 He delivers accusations in an unpackaged, unbendable manner: "The auto industry is killing people. Power has to be insecure to be responsive. Game six of the 2002 NBA Western Conference Finals was illegitimate." That type of talk is ant.i.thetical to the thinking of all political animals. This is why Eric Alterman hates Nader so much, even though they fundamentally agree on many, many points. Alterman cannot fathom that the motives a man gives for running for the presidency could be identical to whatever his true motives are. Nader's reasons for running in 2000 (and in 2004) were unvarnished extensions of what he claimed to represent. He was not psychologically troubled. He was literal, which is received by the public as the same thing. He delivers accusations in an unpackaged, unbendable manner: "The auto industry is killing people. Power has to be insecure to be responsive. Game six of the 2002 NBA Western Conference Finals was illegitimate." That type of talk is ant.i.thetical to the thinking of all political animals. This is why Eric Alterman hates Nader so much, even though they fundamentally agree on many, many points. Alterman cannot fathom that the motives a man gives for running for the presidency could be identical to whatever his true motives are. Nader's reasons for running in 2000 (and in 2004) were unvarnished extensions of what he claimed to represent. He was not psychologically troubled. He was literal, which is received by the public as the same thing.

2B Cinema verite Cinema verite literally translates as "cinema of truth." Herzog, of course, hates cinema verite, claiming it's "devoid of literally translates as "cinema of truth." Herzog, of course, hates cinema verite, claiming it's "devoid of verite verite." In 1999, he wrote a ten-point manifesto t.i.tled "The Minnesota Declaration," probably the only doc.u.ment in film history that attacks cinema verite techniques while complimenting Jesse Ventura. His essential point was that cinema verite provides "the accountant's truth" and that cinema verite auteurs are like tourists. Keeping this in mind, I think it would be very interesting to see a Herzog movie about an accountant on vacation.

Any film consumer recognizes cinema verite the moment they see it, even if they're unfamiliar with the term: It's the kind of naturalistic, shaky, provocative camera work that feels like orchestrated news footage. You often see it employed in exceptional rock doc.u.mentaries (Don't Look Back, Gimme Shelter), but also in fictional narratives dependent on the aura of reality-Cloverfield, The Blair Witch Project, the opening combat scenes from Saving Private Ryan Saving Private Ryan, most of the mumblecore movement, the 1971 dissident project Punishment Park Punishment Park, and both the U.S. and UK versions of The Office The Office.7 Whenever we watch cinema verite movies, we unconsciously think of them as more lifelike than conventional film, simply because they're made to look cheaper and more amateur than they are. This is why Herzog hates cinema verite: It's more realistic, but it's not remotely literal. It's the least-literal filmmaking there is. Whenever we watch cinema verite movies, we unconsciously think of them as more lifelike than conventional film, simply because they're made to look cheaper and more amateur than they are. This is why Herzog hates cinema verite: It's more realistic, but it's not remotely literal. It's the least-literal filmmaking there is.

I am a huge fan of the NBC program Friday Night Lights Friday Night Lights, despite the fact that I don't like what it does to me. I don't like the way it manipulates my emotions. Here is a show about a high school football team in Texas, packaged as a melodramatic soap opera. While certain aspects of the program are legitimately well done by any standard (most notably the relationship between the head coach and his wife), much of the action involves implausible characters doing unbelievable things (showing up to football practice drunk; accidentally murdering people; winning or losing every game on the final play of the fourth quarter, etc.). But even when the on-screen action is ridiculous, it always has a physical physical impact on me-the combination of the music and the imagery consistently makes me feel like I'm on the verge of tears. impact on me-the combination of the music and the imagery consistently makes me feel like I'm on the verge of tears. Friday Night Lights Friday Night Lights can make my stomach hurt, even when my mind says, "This is silly." So I wonder: How much of this reaction is simply a product of the show's relentless use of cinema verite style, fused with my own self-imposed confusion over what truth is actually supposed to look like? can make my stomach hurt, even when my mind says, "This is silly." So I wonder: How much of this reaction is simply a product of the show's relentless use of cinema verite style, fused with my own self-imposed confusion over what truth is actually supposed to look like?

I suspect almost all of it.

Maniacal Slovenian monster-brain Slavoj iek once made a perverse, semi-relevant point about the movie t.i.tanic t.i.tanic; he argued that people are so out of touch with their true feelings that they mentally construct fantasies they don't even want, simply to feel like they have control over their unknowable desires. "How is the catastrophe [depicted in t.i.tanic t.i.tanic] connected to the couple, the rich upper-cla.s.s girl and the poor lower-cla.s.s boy?" iek asked. "After making love, they go up on the deck and embrace again and then she tells him, 'I will stay with you and abandon my people.' At that moment the iceberg hits the ship. What's the point? I claim the true catastrophe would have been for them to stay together, because it wouldn't work and they would split. It's in order to save that impossible dream that the ship must sink."8 iek is essentially arguing that because we cannot understand what we want from ourselves and from other people, we construct fictional placeholders that help us feel secure within our emotional confusion. We a.s.semble and embrace false feelings in order to feel normal. In the same way, our inability to comprehend literal messages prompts us to pick arbitrary versions of media that become stand-ins for truth. iek is essentially arguing that because we cannot understand what we want from ourselves and from other people, we construct fictional placeholders that help us feel secure within our emotional confusion. We a.s.semble and embrace false feelings in order to feel normal. In the same way, our inability to comprehend literal messages prompts us to pick arbitrary versions of media that become stand-ins for truth.

The cinema verite on Friday Night Lights Friday Night Lights only works because I know what it is (and because I have pre-accepted what it signifies). I know its self-reflexive flaws are supposed to indicate that what I'm seeing is closer to reality, so I automatically make that jump with my consciousness. In other words, this entire style of filmmaking only exists to remind me that what I am watching is supposed to be life. And I'm used to this; I am used to things that are constructed solely to make me feel like I am experiencing something natural. State parks and zoos are like this. The personality of Michael Moore is like this. The small talk made between strangers, the noises people make during intercourse, and compliments given to small children are all like this. I don't know if I could enjoy a genuinely literal TV show about high school football, or if I could spend my life with a wholly literal person. only works because I know what it is (and because I have pre-accepted what it signifies). I know its self-reflexive flaws are supposed to indicate that what I'm seeing is closer to reality, so I automatically make that jump with my consciousness. In other words, this entire style of filmmaking only exists to remind me that what I am watching is supposed to be life. And I'm used to this; I am used to things that are constructed solely to make me feel like I am experiencing something natural. State parks and zoos are like this. The personality of Michael Moore is like this. The small talk made between strangers, the noises people make during intercourse, and compliments given to small children are all like this. I don't know if I could enjoy a genuinely literal TV show about high school football, or if I could spend my life with a wholly literal person.

4A There are many aspects about Ralph Nader that intrigue me, but none more than this: As far as anyone can tell, he's never had a single romantic relationship in his entire life. None. No ex-wife, no former girlfriends, no secret gay lover, no hookers, no one-night stands with savvy nineteen-year-olds who are hot to take down the Federal Trade Commission. You cannot even find a photograph of Nader that someone might misconstrue. There's just nothing there. And people have certainly tried to find this information. In fact, people have tried to There are many aspects about Ralph Nader that intrigue me, but none more than this: As far as anyone can tell, he's never had a single romantic relationship in his entire life. None. No ex-wife, no former girlfriends, no secret gay lover, no hookers, no one-night stands with savvy nineteen-year-olds who are hot to take down the Federal Trade Commission. You cannot even find a photograph of Nader that someone might misconstrue. There's just nothing there. And people have certainly tried to find this information. In fact, people have tried to make this make this happen: When he was fighting the auto industry in the 1960s, it's rumored that General Motors hired women to accost Nader in grocery stores and attempt to seduce him, all in the hope of discrediting his single-minded efforts to ensure that new cars didn't explode on impact. With the possible exception of Morrissey, I cannot think of a higher-profile figure so adamant about appearing as.e.xual. happen: When he was fighting the auto industry in the 1960s, it's rumored that General Motors hired women to accost Nader in grocery stores and attempt to seduce him, all in the hope of discrediting his single-minded efforts to ensure that new cars didn't explode on impact. With the possible exception of Morrissey, I cannot think of a higher-profile figure so adamant about appearing as.e.xual.

This makes sense.

It makes sense that Nader could not function inside a romantic relationship, as those are always nonliteral relationships. All romantic relationships are founded on the shared premise of love, a concept defined differently by all people. Conversations between couples are theatrical and symbolic; the first thing anyone realizes the moment they enter a serious relationship is that words (especially during fights) never represent their precise definitions. Nader would be paralyzed by the content of wedding vows-he would want to qualify everything. "In sickness and in health" would become "In sickness, with the possible exclusion of self-contained vegetative states, and in health, a.s.suming neither party has become superhuman or immortal." It would be a deeply wonkified ceremony, probably held in rural Oregon.

Rivers Cuomo is not as.e.xual, but he has had a lot of relationship problems (or at least he used to). I a.s.sume those problems were manifestations of his literalism. Love songs from Weezer usually paint Cuomo as a self-deprecating doofus, and they feel commercially smart because the main character seems like an idealized reflection of the bespectacled hipster nerds who buy his alb.u.ms. But if the Weezer consumer ends up being a reflection of Cuomo, it's purely an accident-he's usually just explaining himself in very specific ways. He does (or at least did) look like Buddy Holly. He did, at one point, grow tired of having s.e.x with people. His interest in Asian girls is not affected-those are the women who consistently arouse him. In the song "Across the Sea," Cuomo explains how he received a letter from a female fan in j.a.pan9 and became obsessed with the paradox of being loved by someone who was completely absent from his life (at the time, he was depressed and attending Harvard). He sings, "I've got your letter, you've got my song." He's having a one-to-one communication with this woman in a public setting, which is why everyone thinks he's so emo. But it's more than that. Cuomo is ignoring the basic principle we all a.s.sume is part of the creative process; he is not "creating" anything. If someone wants to a.n.a.lyze the nonsonic elements of "Across the Sea," they are not performing music criticism; they're psychologically profiling Cuomo in a totally clear-cut fashion. The only thing that can be deconstructed is the person himself. and became obsessed with the paradox of being loved by someone who was completely absent from his life (at the time, he was depressed and attending Harvard). He sings, "I've got your letter, you've got my song." He's having a one-to-one communication with this woman in a public setting, which is why everyone thinks he's so emo. But it's more than that. Cuomo is ignoring the basic principle we all a.s.sume is part of the creative process; he is not "creating" anything. If someone wants to a.n.a.lyze the nonsonic elements of "Across the Sea," they are not performing music criticism; they're psychologically profiling Cuomo in a totally clear-cut fashion. The only thing that can be deconstructed is the person himself.10 This is why Weezer songs are not taken seriously, or at least not as seriously as they deserve to be. People don't want to think about singers as humans; they want to think of them as ent.i.ties who create songs This is why Weezer songs are not taken seriously, or at least not as seriously as they deserve to be. People don't want to think about singers as humans; they want to think of them as ent.i.ties who create songs for for humans. Moreover, they want to decide how sincere the creator is supposed to be- and the only way to do that is to start with the premise that the message is not the message. It cannot be literal. If it's literal, the process is already over. humans. Moreover, they want to decide how sincere the creator is supposed to be- and the only way to do that is to start with the premise that the message is not the message. It cannot be literal. If it's literal, the process is already over.

5 "And make no mistake: irony tyrannizes us," wrote David Foster Wallace in 1993, long before this kind of problem had occurred to someone like me. "The reason why our pervasive cultural irony is at once so powerful and so unsatisfying is that an ironist is impossible to pin down. All U.S. Irony is based on an implicit, "And make no mistake: irony tyrannizes us," wrote David Foster Wallace in 1993, long before this kind of problem had occurred to someone like me. "The reason why our pervasive cultural irony is at once so powerful and so unsatisfying is that an ironist is impossible to pin down. All U.S. Irony is based on an implicit, I don't really mean what I'm saying I don't really mean what I'm saying. So what does irony as a cultural norm mean to say? That it's impossible to mean what you say? That maybe it's too bad it's impossible, but wake up and smell the coffee already? Most likely, I think, today's irony ends up saying: How totally ba.n.a.l of you to ask what I really mean How totally ba.n.a.l of you to ask what I really mean."

When I began writing this essay, Wallace was still alive. And because he was still alive (and because I wanted to write about the absence of literal messages instead of the proliferation of ironic ones, and because I knew I could never compete with the intellectual intensity of his work), it was my original intention to not mention him at all. But then he killed himself. In the wake of his suicide, it seems wrong to neglect referencing his views on what people mean when they say anything in public. Yet I suspect that the (very real) problem Wallace saw in '93 has evolved into something else entirely. It's not that we all collectively agree that asking someone what they really mean is ba.n.a.l; it's that we now a.s.sume that the real meaning of every statement is hidden by default. We a.s.sume that all all statements must be mild inversions of the truth, because it's too weird to imagine people who aren't casually lying, pretty much all the time. statements must be mild inversions of the truth, because it's too weird to imagine people who aren't casually lying, pretty much all the time.

Every time I publish a book, I get asked if what I wrote is actually how I feel. If I write a review about Chinese Democracy Chinese Democracy, people will ask if I really like Axl Rose as much as I claim and if I'm being honest in the way that I describe liking his music. The same thing happens when I write about Saved by the Bell Saved by the Bell or ex-girlfriends in Minnesota or fictional characters with no ties to reality. The subject matter is irrelevant. My response to these questions is never the same. Sometimes I say, "Yes." Sometimes I say, "Sometimes." Occasionally I argue that the things I write are "thought experiments," or that I am only concerned with the technical practice of writing (with little care for the content), or that I am or ex-girlfriends in Minnesota or fictional characters with no ties to reality. The subject matter is irrelevant. My response to these questions is never the same. Sometimes I say, "Yes." Sometimes I say, "Sometimes." Occasionally I argue that the things I write are "thought experiments," or that I am only concerned with the technical practice of writing (with little care for the content), or that I am only only interested in forwarding my ideas (and artistically unattached to the manner in which they are presented). Now, all of these answers are partially true. But the deeper reality is that I'm interested in forwarding my ideas (and artistically unattached to the manner in which they are presented). Now, all of these answers are partially true. But the deeper reality is that I'm not not sure if what I do is real. I usually believe that I'm certain about how I feel, but that seems naive. How do we know how we feel? I'm likely much closer to iek's aforementioned description of sure if what I do is real. I usually believe that I'm certain about how I feel, but that seems naive. How do we know how we feel? I'm likely much closer to iek's aforementioned description of t.i.tanic t.i.tanic: There is almost certainly a constructed schism between (a) how I feel, and (b) how I think think I feel. There's probably a third level, too-how I I feel. There's probably a third level, too-how I want want to think I feel. Very often, I don't know what I think about something until I start writing about it. to think I feel. Very often, I don't know what I think about something until I start writing about it.

However, I do know this (or at least I think I do): When I am in the active, physical process of writing, I am writing literally.

It is always a literal, present-tense depiction of what is cognitively happening in my mind. Now, once a given sentence exists, that might change. Sometimes it changes just four seconds after I type it. But I still believe that sentence should be read in the literal context of its creation. I often wonder if we would all be better off if we looked at all idioms of art in a completely literal fashion, all the time. It would be confusing as h.e.l.l for the first twenty or so years, but I suspect the world would eventually make more sense than it does now. At least we could agree on whatever it is we're pretending to understand.

I am no longer afraid to believe what I read, so I will go first.

Q: a lot of the criticisms regarding your work have been tied to its length. How do you feel about that?

A: I'm never sure how to respond to this question. There are certain accepted lengths that works of fiction and nonfiction are supposed to be, and almost everyone sticks to those general parameters. Some writers will go slightly further and some writers will write slightly less, but almost no one exits the format entirely. Those kinds of restrictions never bothered me, but they never interested me, either. I am exclusively interested in new thoughts. I only care about ideas and notions that no one else has ever thought before-not reactions to other media, but unique creations that come exclusively from one source. So if I can get to that New thought in twenty-five or thirty words, that's all I write. But it usually takes longer. And it's generally impossible. I'm never sure how to respond to this question. There are certain accepted lengths that works of fiction and nonfiction are supposed to be, and almost everyone sticks to those general parameters. Some writers will go slightly further and some writers will write slightly less, but almost no one exits the format entirely. Those kinds of restrictions never bothered me, but they never interested me, either. I am exclusively interested in new thoughts. I only care about ideas and notions that no one else has ever thought before-not reactions to other media, but unique creations that come exclusively from one source. So if I can get to that New thought in twenty-five or thirty words, that's all I write. But it usually takes longer. And it's generally impossible.

Fail 1 There are certain rules I try to follow as a writer. One rule is to never place the word There are certain rules I try to follow as a writer. One rule is to never place the word and and directly following a semicolon. Another is not to write positively about diabolical mathematicians who murder people through the U.S. mail. As a consequence, I'm nervous about saying anything non-negative (or even neutral) about Ted Kaczynski, simply because there are always certain readers who manage to get the wrong idea about everything. For most of the world, the fact that Kaczynski killed three people and injured twenty-three others negates everything else about him. There is only one socially acceptable way to view the Unabomber: as a hairy, lumber-obsessed extremist whose icy brilliance was usurped only by a sinister lack of empathy. Writing about Kaczynski's merits as a philosopher is kind of like writing about O. J. Simpson's merits as a running back-at first it confuses people, and then it makes them mad. I would advise against it. You absolutely cannot win. directly following a semicolon. Another is not to write positively about diabolical mathematicians who murder people through the U.S. mail. As a consequence, I'm nervous about saying anything non-negative (or even neutral) about Ted Kaczynski, simply because there are always certain readers who manage to get the wrong idea about everything. For most of the world, the fact that Kaczynski killed three people and injured twenty-three others negates everything else about him. There is only one socially acceptable way to view the Unabomber: as a hairy, lumber-obsessed extremist whose icy brilliance was usurped only by a sinister lack of empathy. Writing about Kaczynski's merits as a philosopher is kind of like writing about O. J. Simpson's merits as a running back-at first it confuses people, and then it makes them mad. I would advise against it. You absolutely cannot win.

But who wants to win?

Like so many modern people, my relationship with technology makes no sense whatsoever: It's the most important aspect of my life that I hate. The more central it becomes to how I live, the worse it seems for the world at large. I believe all technology has a positive short-term effect and a negative long-term impact, and-on balance-the exponential upsurge of technology's social import has been detrimental to the human experience. Obviously and paradoxically, I'm writing these sentiments on a laptop computer. And because I've felt this way for years (and because I've e-mailed these same thoughts to other people), there are those who tell me I'm like Ted Kaczynski.1 The only thing everyone knows about Kaczynski (apart from the violence) is that he was an enraged hermitic technophobe who lived in the woods. His basic narrative has been established: He left academia for rural Montana, he spent seventeen years sending anonymous letter bombs to innocent people he'd never met, he demanded that his thirty-five-thousand-word manifes...o...b.. published in The only thing everyone knows about Kaczynski (apart from the violence) is that he was an enraged hermitic technophobe who lived in the woods. His basic narrative has been established: He left academia for rural Montana, he spent seventeen years sending anonymous letter bombs to innocent people he'd never met, he demanded that his thirty-five-thousand-word manifes...o...b.. published in The New York Times The New York Times and and The Washington Post The Washington Post, and he was apprehended in 1996 after his brother and the FBI deduced that Kaczynski was the Unabomber. All of that is true. This is why the Unabomber matters to historians: He's a fascinating, unique crime story. But the problem with that criminal fascination is how it's essentially erased the content of his motives. Kaczynski believed he had to kill people in order to get his ideas into the public discourse. He was totally upfront about this: "If [I] had never done anything violent and had submitted the present writings to a publisher, they probably would not have been accepted," he plainly writes in Industrial Society and Its Future Industrial Society and Its Future. "In order to get our message before the public with some chance of making a lasting impression, we've had to kill people." On the most primitive level, this goal succeeded. But not the way he hoped. Because Kaczynski sent bombs to people, n.o.body takes anything he says seriously (they might in three hundred years, but they don't right now). Despite the huge circulations of The New York Times The New York Times and and The Washington Post The Washington Post and its ever-present availability on the Internet, the "Unabomber Manifesto" is an unread, noninfluential doc.u.ment. And that's regrettable, because every day, the content of and its ever-present availability on the Internet, the "Unabomber Manifesto" is an unread, noninfluential doc.u.ment. And that's regrettable, because every day, the content of Industrial Society and Its Future Industrial Society and Its Future becomes more and more interesting. It's like an artless, bookish version of the Kinks song "20th Century Man," amplified by a madman who's too smart to be reasonable. I will grant that it contains a lot of problematic fascist ideology (not surprising, considering that the author was a problematic fascist who shared both the good and bad qualities of Martin Heidegger). But it's not nearly as insane as it should be, at least relative to how we view its author. I can easily imagine a distant, dystopic future where it's considered the most prescient work of the 1990s. becomes more and more interesting. It's like an artless, bookish version of the Kinks song "20th Century Man," amplified by a madman who's too smart to be reasonable. I will grant that it contains a lot of problematic fascist ideology (not surprising, considering that the author was a problematic fascist who shared both the good and bad qualities of Martin Heidegger). But it's not nearly as insane as it should be, at least relative to how we view its author. I can easily imagine a distant, dystopic future where it's considered the most prescient work of the 1990s.

As I read it now, three things strike me: 1. As it turns out, I am nothing like Kaczynski. In fact, I represent precisely what the Unabomber hates about humanity, as do most of the people who embody the target audience for this book.2. Just about everyone who hasn't read Industrial Society and Its Future Industrial Society and Its Future a.s.sumes it's a screed against technology, and sometimes it is. But it's mostly about the concept of a specific type of political freedom. Kaczynski is not interested in a.s.sumes it's a screed against technology, and sometimes it is. But it's mostly about the concept of a specific type of political freedom. Kaczynski is not interested in feeling feeling free; Kaczynski is interested in a kind of freedom most people don't even realize is possible. free; Kaczynski is interested in a kind of freedom most people don't even realize is possible.3. Industrial Society and Its Future Industrial Society and Its Future was written by an isolated man living in a cabin without electricity during the 1980s and early '90s. The text mentions the Internet several times, but one has to a.s.sume it was impossible for him to fully understand what the Internet would eventually become. Yet Kaczynski's core ideas about this specific technology are compet.i.tive with those of virtually everyone who's written about it since. He couldn't have fully understood what he was writing about and his language is often unsophisticated, but his sense of the web's inherent problems is natural and spot-on. was written by an isolated man living in a cabin without electricity during the 1980s and early '90s. The text mentions the Internet several times, but one has to a.s.sume it was impossible for him to fully understand what the Internet would eventually become. Yet Kaczynski's core ideas about this specific technology are compet.i.tive with those of virtually everyone who's written about it since. He couldn't have fully understood what he was writing about and his language is often unsophisticated, but his sense of the web's inherent problems is natural and spot-on.

He was a bad person, but sometimes he was right.

2 The psychological profile of Ted Kaczynski reads like an origin story for someone who'd eventually become one of the Watchmen: Born in 1942, he's smart and weird. His IQ in fifth grade is 167. He's so smart that they skip him from sixth to seventh grade, and this ruins his life. He's teased constantly and has no friends. The socially r.e.t.a.r.ded Kaczynski is accepted into Harvard at the age of sixteen and immediately excels at math, specializing in the field of geometric function theory. But something unorthodox happens while at Harvard-he takes part in a psychological experiment that's based on deception. Partic.i.p.ants in the study believe they are being asked to debate philosophy with a collegiate peer, but the "peer" is actually a lawyer whose sole purpose is to aggravate and attack the unwitting applicant; Ted has unknowingly volunteered for a stress test. When the reality of the hoax is eventually explained to Kaczynski, he feels betrayed and outraged. This experience seems to change him. At his eventual trial, Kaczynski's lawyers will argue that this was where his hatred of authority truly began. The psychological profile of Ted Kaczynski reads like an origin story for someone who'd eventually become one of the Watchmen: Born in 1942, he's smart and weird. His IQ in fifth grade is 167. He's so smart that they skip him from sixth to seventh grade, and this ruins his life. He's teased constantly and has no friends. The socially r.e.t.a.r.ded Kaczynski is accepted into Harvard at the age of sixteen and immediately excels at math, specializing in the field of geometric function theory. But something unorthodox happens while at Harvard-he takes part in a psychological experiment that's based on deception. Partic.i.p.ants in the study believe they are being asked to debate philosophy with a collegiate peer, but the "peer" is actually a lawyer whose sole purpose is to aggravate and attack the unwitting applicant; Ted has unknowingly volunteered for a stress test. When the reality of the hoax is eventually explained to Kaczynski, he feels betrayed and outraged. This experience seems to change him. At his eventual trial, Kaczynski's lawyers will argue that this was where his hatred of authority truly began.

After earning a PhD from the University of Michigan, Kaczynski takes a post as an a.s.sistant mathematics professor at the University of CaliforniaBerkley in 1967, but he leaves the position in '69 without explanation. Two years later he starts living in a remote Montana cabin; six years after that he starts mailing homemade bombs to people. Because his early targets were either universities (UN) or airlines (A), authorities dubbed him the Unabomber. Part of the reason he was able to avoid apprehension for almost twenty years was his ability to embed the bombs with misleading clues: He kept using the code word wood wood in the missives, sometimes inscribed the random initials "FC," and once included a note to a nonexistent person named "Wu." Since these were the only clues the FBI had, they always pursued them to the ultimate extreme (which was always a dead end). Our only visual aid was the most recognizable police sketch of the twentieth century, a preposterously generic image that suggested (a) the Unabomber didn't like the sun in his eyes and (b) he owned at least one hooded sweatshirt. Had Kaczynski's own brother in the missives, sometimes inscribed the random initials "FC," and once included a note to a nonexistent person named "Wu." Since these were the only clues the FBI had, they always pursued them to the ultimate extreme (which was always a dead end). Our only visual aid was the most recognizable police sketch of the twentieth century, a preposterously generic image that suggested (a) the Unabomber didn't like the sun in his eyes and (b) he owned at least one hooded sweatshirt. Had Kaczynski's own brother2 not figured out who the Unabomber was after the manifesto's publication, it's plausible that Kaczynski would never have been caught. not figured out who the Unabomber was after the manifesto's publication, it's plausible that Kaczynski would never have been caught.

Now, before I go any further, I want to stress that I am not a "fan" of the Unabomber. None of the bombs he sent were justified. Every person who was hurt was hurt for no valid reason. But I still want to think about the reasons why he sent those bombs, and those reasons are found in Industrial Society and Its Future Industrial Society and Its Future. He became a domestic terrorist so that people would consume this doc.u.ment. In and of itself, that relationship is immaterial (a manifesto doesn't become important just because its writer is merciless and desperate). The main thing one can deduce from Kaczynski's willingness to kill strangers is that he is an egotist. That said, the fact that a doc.u.ment's creator is an egocentric murderer does not preclude the work from being worthwhile (Phil Spector shot a woman in the face, but that doesn't make the harmonies on "Be My Baby" any less beautiful). The fact that Kaczynski has a deeply damaged psyche doesn't mitigate its value at all: Not all crazy people are brilliant, but almost all brilliant people are crazy.

3 Cultural criticism is a temporary kind of art. Works of this variety sometimes experience ma.s.sive spikes in popularity at the time of their release, but the shelf life is short. If a piece of cultural criticism truly succeeds, its ideas and theories are completely absorbed by mainstream society (which means that the book itself becomes unnecessary). This has happened with lots of influential books from the past forty years that are now rarely purchased by new audiences- Cultural criticism is a temporary kind of art. Works of this variety sometimes experience ma.s.sive spikes in popularity at the time of their release, but the shelf life is short. If a piece of cultural criticism truly succeeds, its ideas and theories are completely absorbed by mainstream society (which means that the book itself becomes unnecessary). This has happened with lots of influential books from the past forty years that are now rarely purchased by new audiences-The Closing of the American Mind, Within the Context of No Context, the novel Generation X Generation X, and other works in this vein. One of the most fascinating examples of the phenomenon is Jerry Mander's Four Arguments for the Elimination of Television Four Arguments for the Elimination of Television. Part of what makes this book so entertaining is the laughable impossibility of its nonmetaphorical goal: The author seems to have written this book with the hope that everyone in America would read it, agree with all its points, and literally destroy their television sets with sledgehammers. This did not happen. But there are still tons of great ideas in Four Arguments Four Arguments, and it's amazing that Mander came to these realizations in 1978, before the advent of cable or the inception of the web. When Mander rails against his version of mediated culture, he's really just railing against three networks and PBS. But three channels and Sesame Street Sesame Street were all he needed to see the truth, which is this-TV takes away our freedom to have whatever thoughts we want. So do photographs, movies, and the Internet. They provide us with more intellectual stimuli, but they construct a lower, harder intellectual ceiling. The first time someone tries to convince you to take mushrooms, they often argue that mushrooms "allow you to think whatever thoughts you want." This sentiment makes no sense to anyone who has not taken psychedelic drugs, because everyone likes to a.s.sume we already have the freedom to think whatever we please. But this is not true. Certain drug experiences were all he needed to see the truth, which is this-TV takes away our freedom to have whatever thoughts we want. So do photographs, movies, and the Internet. They provide us with more intellectual stimuli, but they construct a lower, harder intellectual ceiling. The first time someone tries to convince you to take mushrooms, they often argue that mushrooms "allow you to think whatever thoughts you want." This sentiment makes no sense to anyone who has not taken psychedelic drugs, because everyone likes to a.s.sume we already have the freedom to think whatever we please. But this is not true. Certain drug experiences do do expand a person's freedom of thought, in the same way that certain media experiences make that freedom smaller. expand a person's freedom of thought, in the same way that certain media experiences make that freedom smaller.

On page 243 of Four Arguments for the Elimination of Television Four Arguments for the Elimination of Television, Mander lists a variety of scenarios and asks the reader to imagine them inside their own mind. These are things like "life in an Eskimo village," "a preoperation conversation among doctors," "the Old South," "the flight of Amelia Earhart," or "the Old West." This is very easy to do, and you can do it right now- pick any one of those situations and watch it inside your mind's eye. But once you've done so, consider what Mander says about the process: It is extremely likely that you have experienced no more than one or two of [these situations] personally. Obviously, these images [inside your head] were either out of your own imagination or else they were from the media. Can you identify which was which?

In all likelihood, all all of your internal images did (at least partially) originate from television. Your supposedly unique mental picture of a Georgia plantation during the Civil War is just an interpretation of what you unconsciously recall from of your internal images did (at least partially) originate from television. Your supposedly unique mental picture of a Georgia plantation during the Civil War is just an interpretation of what you unconsciously recall from Gone With the Wind Gone With the Wind or or Roots Roots (or some other show that used the same set). Mander goes on to make an even more troubling request-he asks the reader to imagine a basketball game. Do that right now. Close your eyes and imagine a basketball game in your head. What did it look like? One can a.s.sume that virtually everyone in the United States has attended a live basketball game at some point in his or her life, and almost as many have played in a basketball game for real (at least for five minutes at recess in sixth grade). I played organized basketball for thirteen years. So why is my first mental image of a basketball game a moment from game four of a Celtics-Lakers championship series I saw on CBS in 1984? Why is (or some other show that used the same set). Mander goes on to make an even more troubling request-he asks the reader to imagine a basketball game. Do that right now. Close your eyes and imagine a basketball game in your head. What did it look like? One can a.s.sume that virtually everyone in the United States has attended a live basketball game at some point in his or her life, and almost as many have played in a basketball game for real (at least for five minutes at recess in sixth grade). I played organized basketball for thirteen years. So why is my first mental image of a basketball game a moment from game four of a Celtics-Lakers championship series I saw on CBS in 1984? Why is that that my immediate, galvanized definition of a sport I actively played? my immediate, galvanized definition of a sport I actively played?

It's because we really can't differentiate between real and unreal images. We can describe the difference, but we can't manage it.

Decadent French critic Charles Baudelaire made a comparable point about photography way back in 1859, but the process is accelerated a thousand fold when applied to images that move and talk and morph. Mander's point is that technology evolves much faster than we do physically or mentally, and the consequence is that vague sense of alienation expressed by Thom Yorke on OK Computer OK Computer. Humans have existed for 130,000 years. The Great Train Robbery The Great Train Robbery was made in 1903. For roughly 129,900 years, any moving image a human saw was actually real. It was was made in 1903. For roughly 129,900 years, any moving image a human saw was actually real. It was there there, right in front of you. If a man in 1850 saw a train chugging toward his face, it was actually a train. For 129,900 years, we were conditioned to understand that seeing something in motion had a specific meaning. But that understanding no longer exists; today, we constantly "see things" that aren't actually there. Intellectually, we know that there's a difference between The Great Train Robbery The Great Train Robbery and a real train. Intellectually, we know there is a difference between a living person and a Facebook profile. We know that and a real train. Intellectually, we know there is a difference between a living person and a Facebook profile. We know that The Sopranos The Sopranos and our own life are different. But is there any possible way that 129,900 years of psychological evolution can be altered within the span of a single century? Is it any wonder that people feel paradoxically alienated by the mechanical devices they love? and our own life are different. But is there any possible way that 129,900 years of psychological evolution can be altered within the span of a single century? Is it any wonder that people feel paradoxically alienated by the mechanical devices they love?

We do not have the freedom to think whatever we want. We don't. And until we accept that, it's useless to think about anything else.

2A I don't expect consumers of this book to read I don't expect consumers of this book to read Industrial Society and Its Future Industrial Society and Its Future, or even to spend more than two or three minutes scanning it on Wikipedia. I know how this works. But just to make things a little more collectively cogent, here is the doc.u.ment for Matt Damon fans who prefer the editing of The Bourne Ultimatum The Bourne Ultimatum to to Gerry Gerry: 1. The first line of the introduction is "The Industrial Revolution and its consequences have been a disaster for the human race." The important thing to note here is that the words Industrial Revolution Industrial Revolution have been capitalized. Kaczynski's complaint with society starts around the year 1760, almost two centuries before he was born. have been capitalized. Kaczynski's complaint with society starts around the year 1760, almost two centuries before he was born.2. The next sections discuss "the psychology of modern leftism," which is an attack on a certain kind of person-not necessarily a political political liberal, but people whose worldview and morality are marked by "feelings of inferiority" with characteristic traits that include "low self-esteem, feelings of powerlessness, depressive tendencies, defeatism, guilt, self-hatred, etc." liberal, but people whose worldview and morality are marked by "feelings of inferiority" with characteristic traits that include "low self-esteem, feelings of powerlessness, depressive tendencies, defeatism, guilt, self-hatred, etc."3. A big chunk of the manifesto is about the desire for power and socialization. He argues that modern people are so obsessed with socialization that they deceive themselves about everything-about what they feel, why they do things, or what their true morals are. It's weird to take moral advice from a guy who sent bombs to strangers, but his thoughts are not invalid: Basically, the Unabomber believes modern people have no idea how they're supposed to think or feel, so they convince themselves to care about whatever rules the rest of society seems to require. It's something of a rudimentary loop-people conform to the status quo because the status quo validates the conformity they elected to adopt.4. Kaczynski was obsessed with autonomy. "For most people, it is through the power process-having a goal, making an autonomous autonomous effort and attaining the goal-that self-esteem, self-confidence and a sense of power are acquired." This is the root of his hatred of technology-he could not be a singular individual if his livelihood was dependent on machines. effort and attaining the goal-that self-esteem, self-confidence and a sense of power are acquired." This is the root of his hatred of technology-he could not be a singular individual if his livelihood was dependent on machines.5. In a section t.i.tled "Sources of Social Problems," he argues that conservatives are "fools" for complaining about the deterioration of values while supporting economic and technological growth. This is a key point for Kaczynski. He sees these things as interrelated.6. Science, the Unabomber argues, is the ultimate "surrogate activity." This is the term Kaczynski uses to refer to pursuits that give people an artificial goal and a constructed meaning to their lives. As applied to the Internet, the argument is almost una.s.sailable.

Now, here are the three points that matter most: 7. The manifesto outlines five principles of history. Only the fifth principle is important: "People do not consciously and rationally choose the form of their society. Societies develop through processes of social evolution that are not under rational human control."8. Technology is a more powerful force than the desire for freedom.9. We cannot separate good technology from bad technology.

If you mention these last three statements to most normal people, they will say number 7 is usually true, number 8 is possibly true, and number 9 is probably false. But they're all