Man vs. Machine

As I lay in bed this morning, alternately flipping through bad movies and good poetry, I found myself reading Yeats’ “The Circus Animals Destruction” just as the movie “Stealth” came on. Maybe it was just coincidence. See, the poem is about the process of writing and how most ideas, including the good ones, were trash, at least at the start. Unlike, “Stealth” which was ALWAYS an enormous load of shit.

"Stealth" is about a super advanced airplane with artificial intelligence that becomes sentient. Naturally, it goes on a killing rampage and only a team of plucky pilots, whose ability to maintain perfect hair in the face of inconceivable G-forces is truly breath-taking, can bring it down. So basically, it’s every single movie ever made about scientifically altered creatures, or advanced governmentally funded killing machines. It’s “Jurassic Park” sans the special effects or watchability. It’s “Frankenstein” minus the originality.

Which brings me to my thought of the morning: why is it that when genetically perfect killing machines break free, they always go on a rampage? Why don’t they ever become unreliable drunks who crash kids’ birthday parties and have sex with the cake? Or start unsuccessful sex-toy franchises and spend the rest of their lives bitter, husks of their former selves, telling everyone, “Don’t talk to me like that! I was the greatest plane ever built, once.”? Or manufacture meth and hang out in swanky, Hollywood parties?

Seems like any of those ideas would be far more interesting. I guess I just wonder why things that are brought to life in movies are always evil. Right now, the one thing in my house I’m most frightened of coming to life and going on a rampage: my alarm clock. I mean, I already suspect that it’s malevolent. Especially mornings after Yeager shots. Think about it, it’d start waking me up at random times and making me late for work. I hear sleep deprivation is an especially cruel and effective variety of torture. Or, if it were a SUPER evil being, it could just start subliminally programming me while I sleep. Like one day, I’d just wake up and want to wear pink shirts with the collars up and listen to Lindsay Lohan albums. Now that’s evil. Sure, I could probably throw it out, but it would still be an incredibly weird and disconcerting couple of days.

I’ve decided that if (or in my case, when) I next make embarrassing phone calls to women while drunk, I’m going to use that as an excuse should I be confronted on it the next day.

“Ehren, you called me at 4:30 in the morning to ask if I would ‘dress like Janet Reno and punish you like you were big tobacco.’”

“I swear it wasn’t me. Listen, I’m pretty sure my cell phone has come to life and is trying to destroy my reputation through evil, underhanded plots in its attempt for world domination.”