If my so-called "friends" are going to selectively pretend not to know basic Sequences shit in a way that has clearly been optimized for tricking me into cutting my dick off (independently of the empirical evidence determining whether or not we live in one of the possible worlds where cutting my dick off is a good idea), and still won't correct the mistake after I (and Michael, and Ben, and Sarah, and Zvi—and Jessica, who can be presumed to not share my object-level-politically-derived biases, because she seems pretty happy about having had her dick cut off) spend thousands of words patiently explaining the problem ... how do I know these "friends" aren't already secretly in the pay of the mine dwarves? They're certainly acting like it.
A distributed intelligence that's using your former friends for processing power and actuators is trying to confuse you into cutting your dick off. Another former friend says, "Oh, that's just an exception; the distributed intelligence isn't usually that crazy. You shouldn't stop believing its story about how you need to give it your lunch money so that it can save the world." You think for a moment. "I guess that makes sense," you say, and hand over your lunch money.
+
+* the moment in October 2016 when I switched sides http://zackmdavis.net/blog/2016/10/late-onset/ http://zackmdavis.net/blog/2017/03/brand-rust/
+https://www.lesswrong.com/posts/jNAAZ9XNyt82CXosr/mirrors-and-paintings
projects / Ultimately_Untrue_Thought.git / blobdiff