The End of Language?

October 16, 2024
A piece of paper with handwriting on it is sitting on a table.

(A new word for an old prejudice)


   We have been approaching this moment for many years. Advertising, ( a gentle word for propaganda and now enhanced by Artificial Intelligence), has been a part of our lives from infancy and for the lives of generations. Starting with the innocence of radio, it's music, narrated stories and news, then television and film with ads interrupting regularly and maddeningly, finally the Internet with AI and infinite potential for influence. We have learned to tolerate lies and ignore misinformation in the form of someone trying to sell us something. But now there's a difference. Artificial technology is being applied to information that is crucial for us to understand, like economics, politics and science. We can't even believe what we see in photos and videos.


   It has become accepted behavior among influential people and businesses to lie; to lie for advantage; and now a photo and a video can lie too. So well that the artist is the only person who can tell the difference. Companies, politicians, banks, doctors, news outlets, lawyers, on and on are conning us. We are being “sold” a storyline,(often a lot of money has been spent to create the story), a way of thinking to replace our own, to replace our own freedom of thought and speech.


   This is not new, but the intensity is new. Spurred on by our aggressive marketplace and slicker less discernible techniques. Modern mass internet communication has made information manipulation the most powerful social control tool in history, except war and starvation. In the meantime language is loosing its meaning. Memes, false flags, conspiracy theories confuse and manipulate information. Sometimes these techniques are used to get attention, hits on a website, which can be turned into money. But most ominously and dangerously they are used to persuade. To persuade huge populations to “join with me “because “the sky is falling” and I am your oracle, your savior. All you have to do is leave your common sense behind along with science and your lived experience.

January 27, 2026
The float of cloud drifts and encircles a mountain leaving just the very top, a pointed witches cap poking through. These islands have the most magnificent mountains. They brood around the harbors, snagging the clouds that pass. No doubt they have inspired fantastic stories. The cloud shadows create chameleon-like changes on mountain surfaces, making them even more expressive than oceans that amuse themselves by hiding what they contain; mountains are hysterical by contrast. Always looking for attention. “Look. Look again!, what about this?” They may hold a pose for a while seeming docile, then you look up and they have disappeared. White mist covers just a grey suggestion, then suddenly black silhouettes like broken giant teeth rise defiantly. So much animation, millions of years after volcanic upheavals shook these mountains from the sea depths.
January 13, 2026
Medical emergencies all have a similar feeling. Intensity, urgency, a changed perception of time; only events and human encounters progress, time seems warped, unimportant. After several sleepless nights because Jeff was having difficulty peeing and he was beginning to have pain, he went to the onboard clinic to get catheterized. There were three attempts with successively larger catheters. This was painful and distressing for him, though he kept joking about it, “this is not good sex!” The attempts were unsuccessful. He was given pain killers and an ambulance met us at the dock for a 10 minute ambulance ride to the hospital. Jeff is an 80 year old man with an enlarged prostate so he normally has trouble peeing. But this time it stopped altogether and there was blood. We are waiting at the hospital for the urologist. Nurses and a general practitioner have spoken to us in English. Very kind, polite, casual and patient. The urologist arrives and talks with Jeff. He is going to get the operating room ready and put Jeff out. Then he can do the operation. We wait in our curtained off cubicle Jeff is lying on a bed. A woman who came with her husband, who has high blood pressure, is behind the curtain to the left of us. He had collapsed. She is reciting the Lord's Prayer and Hail Marys over and over in an emotional whisper. She is crying. A young man is in the cubicle to our right. He seems to have broken his arm. It is all wrapped up in white gauze. Earlier a man had been stung by something and ointment was applied. A pregnant woman has come in. This is a modest hospital, very basic, two floors. They have what they need. A few flies buzz lazily around, but most are killed by the electric device on the wall. A very slight smell of urine is in the air. We arrived here about 8:30. It is now 2:00. Jeff has had an ultrasound, blood pressure checks and an EKG. Now he is in a wheelchair waiting for the nurse to take him to an operating room. The waiting room has about 10 people waiting. About 50 chairs in all. Not terribly busy for a Saturday. Light and darker coffee colored skin, attractive, rounded features and large expressive eyes set apart the native population. They are only a little curious about us. There is no rushing here.
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