Posted in News, Travel, tagged i don't even know how to tag this without attracting the wrong crowd on July 14, 2009| Leave a Comment »
Much has been made lately about the propagation of white supremacist organization within the military, so in the spirit of making light of current events, here’s an action/response flow chart taken from Pamphlet 600-15: “Personnel-General – Extremist Activities,” the Army’s official document regarding “extremist” soldiers. The following are official instructions for any commanding officer faced with the timeless stumper: my lance corporal has a swastika on his forehead.
A friend sent this to me – a longish (and good) Atlantic article about how the economic meltdown will change the “look” of America in a geographic sense – and, while I don’t necessarily think everything the author puts forth is entirely accurate, it’s definitely one of the best assessments I’ve heard of what’s coming our way.
Posted in How You Know We're Fucked, News, Sports, tagged chicken dance, How You Know We're Fucked, john madden, nfl of nbc, nfl on fox, phil hartman, robots, science, superhuman strength, that stupid dancing football robot, war of the worlds on January 5, 2009| 2 Comments »
Posted in How You Know We're Fucked, News, tagged AI, frankenstein, fucked, killer packs of fucking robots, lessons learned, monsters, robot packs, skynet, terminator, velociraptor, we are fucked on November 10, 2008| 3 Comments »
From the Popular Science Blog:
The Department of Defense has put out a call: design a pack of robots. A so-called Multi-Robot Pursuit System would be used to “search for and detect a non-cooperative human subject.” Each robot has to weigh 100 kilograms or less, act autonomously (with a human squad leader), negotiate obstacles, and provide immediate feedback. The robots would report back to a human operator, and defer to that human when the robot AI determines that a “difficult decision” is required.
Wait; “difficult decision”? And what the fuck is a “non-cooperative human subject”? Is this like when, in third grade, I refused to clean my room? Now my mom could just send a pack of robots to kill me?