I’m usually very cynical about the RIP notices that flash across social networks. Every lost life is a human tragedy to those close to the lost person, so why fetishize those who happened to gain some level of celebrity during their lives? Well, it turns out I’m a hypocrite. When I logged on to MySpace this morning a bulletin was posted regarding the passing of one Patrick Joseph McGoohan, better known to many nerdy folks like myself as Number 6. The Prisoner.

I will not be pushed, filed, stamped, indexed, briefed, de-briefed or numbered. My life is my own.

The Prisoner was a seventeen episode TV series which aired on British television during the 1960’s. It is probably TV’s most famous allegory. The plot revolves around a secret agent (some fans consider him the secret agent of McGoohan’s former show Danger Man) who is referred to exclusively as Number 6. At the very beginning of the series, the spy is kidnapped and deposited on an island known as The Village after resigning his post. Over the course of the series , struggles against an equally un-named authority represented in the personage of various antagonists each of whom is referred to as Number 2. All of the inhabitants of The Village are referred to exclusively by number, but only Number 6 refuses to accept his, declaring “I am not a number, I am a free man!”

Each episode of the series involves a given Number 2’s attempts to get Number 6 to reveal why he has resigned, despite his continued insistence that he has done so for no nefarious purpose. It seems clear that the real desire of The Village is to round off every square peg, so that the individual is absorbed into the collective just as the amorphous “Rover” absorbs any who try to flee the island. The goal is not so much information for it’s own sake, as it is the desire for conformity. In fact, those who run the village put forward the mantra:

Questions are a burden and answers a prison for one’s self.

Why do they want information, then? Why is their first attempt at cracking Six to show him that they have know almost everything about his life? Because they understand that information is power. Those who are willing to abandon their privacy are no threat to power. The individual is no threat to the powers that be if he or she no longer has the desire to ask tough questions of those in charge.

It’s never really clear who in The Village  is a prisoner and who is a warden. In a way, perhaps everyone is a prisoner. The various Number 2’s try to cajole Six into abandoning his individuality through threats, offers of glory and fame, offers of power, brainwashing and various other mind-bending and nefarious techniques but to no avail. On several occasions, even the illusion of freedom itself is used to entice him. It doesn’t work. His dogged determination to escape, to maintain his sense of self as defined by his own views and to live his life the way he prefers never waivers. In fact, it gives him the strength to overcome the weaker minded minions of authority.

In my favorite episode, “Hammer Into Anvil”, he turns Goethe’s quote around. The hammer pounds and pounds, but in the end the anvil outlasts it and the hammer cracks. Those who view others as weak and untrustworthy are revealed for what they are. They doubt others, because they know that they themselves are built on unsound foundations. They seek the embrace of collectivism and total authority because they fear that those who would choose self-determination are made of sterner stuff.

I got into the series as a teenager when the episodes were broadcast on PBS in the states. I couldn’t believe that this show had been shown on mainstream television in the 60’s (albeit in England). Couldn’t the powers that be see what the show was saying? How could they have allowed it to even air? Ah, the eternal optimism of the youth who still believes that their is a chance to grow up and be a lone wolf. In real life, the village…erm, society that is…always wins. The individual is doomed to search for any scrap of true freedom that he can find.

This was rebellion that I as a true science fiction nerdling could definitely jibe with. Six is tough, a secret agent and a lady’s man, but he couldn’t be farther from the James Bond stereotypes that that description probably brings to mind. First and foremost, his most potent weapon is his wit and cleverness. He out thinks his antagonists’ every gambit and in judo-like fashion turns their strengths into his strengths. He responds to their every friendly statement or offer of acceptance with a witty retort that makes it clear that his only interest is his freedom.

On the few occasions where he is presented with a love interest, he is unflappable, gentlemanly and never loses focus on his objective. You can understand why this might have been an attractive role model for a young man hopped up on hormones and wracked with self-consciousness when confronted with anyone of the fairer sex. In the first episode he is given a maid who he rejects. She later returns and tearfully entreats Six to provide her with some tidbit of information so that she can barter it for her freedom. He coldly sends her on his way. If my teen self had been Six, the series would have been over at that point.

Even the violence in the series was treated as a necessity rather than glorified tastelessly as it usually is in stories about rebels. Patrick seemed like the least likely action hero, especially from an American viewpoint. This was no Stallone or Schwarzenegger spouting marble mouthed one liners. There was no flexing of muscles, no strutting swagger.  I later learned that he’d actually been a boxer, but at the time he seemed rather..dare I say it…nerdy. No matter, it didn’t change my image of him a bit to find about his pugilistic background.

The show is as relevant today as it was when originally aired, if not more so. Our leader during these last eight years is someone who seems to have governed based on the “questions/answers” mantra I referred to earlier. During the run up to the invasion of Iraq, those who protested the war or did anything to appear to question the authority of our leaders was shunned, insulted and even vilified by our supposedly liberally biased media. I swear I almost heard the cries of “Unmutual!” We live in an age where we have voluntarily become numbers in the name of convenience. We live in an age where any non-conformity that cannot be packaged, manufactured and marketed is viewed suspiciously. We have freely surrendered our privacy in the name of security and technological advance. I have no answers to offer, I’m as much a villager as anyone else. I do know that we need to ask ourselves some of the questions that The Prisoner asks.

There’s a new Prisoner re-make in the works, but I have rather low expectations for it. I’ll watch it anyway, of course.

Be Seeing You, Patrick.

Links

• Wired Magazine Blog “The Prisoner Reboots the Panopticon for 21st Century”

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Listen as the door of his apartment opens at the end of the series…I guess we all live in the village.

Mark Cuban is the owner of the Mavericks and an entreprenuer. I could care less. That said, I think his blog is a must read. This might sound slightly self-helpish, but the simplicity and honesty of the message is striking.

In sports, the only thing a player or coach can truly control is effort. The same applies to business. The only thing any entrepreneur, salesperson or anyone in any position can control is their effort.

The One Thing In Life You Can Control

I keep repeating this to myself whenever I start to get unmotivated or angry or lose my confidence. The one thing I control is effort.

I have almost no innate musical talent. A lot of hard work and determination has allowed me to will myself into being able to express myself a little with music. It’s also made me feel a whole lot better about who I am as a person.

It turns out that a great deal of the drama, jealousy, controversy, rumors, martyrdom, whining, self-pity and other b.s. that plagues modern life comes down to simple laziness. Instead of seeing ourselves as victims or creating narratives to justify our lack of hustle, we should focus on the thing we control…effort.

I think I’m going to learn how to draw next.

I woke up extremely early this morning when a basketball somehow forced my closet door open. I sat straight up the moment I heard the loud bang and then a moment later I rolled over and stuck my arm under my bed to grab my trusty baseball bat. I took a moment to feel proud of my instinctual reaction and then I jumped to my feat empty handed. The bat wasn’t in it’s normal place.

I walked into the living room distinctly less brave than I would have been with the bat. After a few moments, perhaps quite a few moments due to my being only partially awake, I sighed heavily and turned back to bed. On my way to the bedroom, I kicked the basketball…hey, we have a basketball?…and identified the ruthless burgular.

I went back to bed, flipped on the TV and proceeded to watch some French movie called Backstage. Entertaining, but not nearly as restful as a couple of hours of more sleep would have been.

Then, as if in some marketer’s wet dream, the image of a Guitar Center ad filled my mind. “Black Friday Sale at Guitar Center!”, I thought. “Today’s the day for me to grab a better amp, maybe some extra strings, I may need a new cable…wait.”

At that point I thought back to Tuesday after band practice. For the thousandth time, I had heard someone with a natural gift for communicating use the very same musical tools I’m always looking to improve to make beautiful music. I need to remember that message. I don’t need to spend any more money on musical stuff.

Ok, maybe I’ll still grab somethng silly once in a while for fun. I don’t need to though. I need to learn how to do that E to B chord change neatly so I can impress Elizabeth.

I wound up not buying anything and that felt pretty good.

No, I’m not suggesting you go buy a new pair of dunks.

I mean, there’s probably something you’re thinking about doing. Maybe doing it is scary, because it challenges how you see yourself, or how others see you. Maybe the thing you want to do is frowned upon by clergy, politicians or other old people whose opinions shouldn’t even matter. Maybe you’re waiting for the golden key, the magic flute, the missing statue’s hand, the special lucky day or something else that’s never going to appear. Maybe you’re waiting until you’ve had enough time to meditate, debate, dialogue, chant, pray or read the tea leaves. Maybe you’re just plain scared. Who cares. Leap.

Every single regret I’ve had has been because I stood at the edge and didn’t jump. Every single one. Every time I’ve actually had the courage to leapt I’ve embraced the end results of my choices without fear or regret. It’s just the edge that’s scary. Don’t let it be a barrier between you and the life you envision for yourself.

Look over the edge and imagine the worst thing that could happen. The worst possible thing. Not that bad is it? Then imagine the best thing that can happen. It’s worth the risk, isn’t it? If you’re ok with both, gird your loins, spit over your shoulder and dive in.

Every day I get a little bit older, a little bit more cocky, and I realize even more how short life is. We don’t have time to hem and haw, people. Make it happen. Live the life you want to live.

On second thought, buy that new pair of sneakers. You can’t take the money with you, and if you get hit by a car today at least your body will have dope kicks on.

Speak the truth to power. If the captain doesn’t like hearing that there’s an iceberg up ahead, find a new boat to row on.

Have one more drink. Hangovers build character and you’ll never know who you’ll meet.

Take off your clothes, wrap it up for safety and enjoy the dance. Morality is mainly an excuse for repressed people to make open people feel as bad as they do.

Get on that stage, take a deep breath and show everyone you’re a superstar.

The point I’m trying to make is I’m ready to do some open mics. I’m a little scared, but I’m jumping.

No, I’m not suggesting you go buy a new pair of dunks.

I mean, there’s probably something you’re thinking about doing. Maybe doing it is scary, because it challenges how you see yourself, or how others see you. Maybe the thing you want to do is frowned upon by clergy, politicians or other old people whose opinions shouldn’t even matter. Maybe you’re waiting for the golden key, the magic flute, the missing statue’s hand, the special lucky day or something else that’s never going to appear. Maybe you’re waiting until you’ve had enough time to meditate, debate, dialogue, chant, pray or read the tea leaves. Maybe you’re just plain scared. Who cares. Leap.

Every single regret I’ve had has been because I stood at the edge and didn’t jump. Every single one. Every time I’ve actually had the courage to leapt I’ve embraced the end results of my choices without fear or regret. It’s just the edge that’s scary. Don’t let it be a barrier between you and the life you envision for yourself.

Look over the edge and imagine the worst thing that could happen. The worst possible thing. Not that bad is it? Then imagine the best thing that can happen. It’s worth the risk, isn’t it? If you’re ok with both, gird your loins, spit over your shoulder and dive in.

Every day I get a little bit older, a little bit more cocky, and I realize even more how short life is. We don’t have time to hem and haw, people. Make it happen. Live the life you want to live.

On second thought, buy that new pair of sneakers. You can’t take the money with you, and if you get hit by a car today at least your body will have dope kicks on.

Speak the truth to power. If the captain doesn’t like hearing that there’s an iceberg up ahead, find a new boat to row on.

Have one more drink. Hangovers build character and you’ll never know who you’ll meet.

Take off your clothes, wrap it up for safety and enjoy the dance. Morality is mainly an excuse for repressed people to make everyone else feel as frustrated as they do.

Get on that stage, take a deep breath and show everyone you’re a superstar.

The point I’m trying to make is I’m ready to do some open mics. I’m a little scared, but I’m jumping.

Stop

Where will we stop it,
oh this foreboding wave?
this bucket full of droplets,
all these hummers full of slaves.

Will we stand up against madness,
and proclaim our right to be free?
Or will we just stand for nothing,
and make a sham of liberty?

No, I don’t claim to be a prophet,
or pretend descent from royalty,
But the blood of those who threw off chains,
Is pumping still in me.

Nothing that they scheme to do
can ever change who we truly are
Don’t let dirty tricks convince us
to fight these pointless civil wars.

We’re really just one united race
floating on this muddy rock
And one decent sized asteroid
will stop the ticking of all our clocks.

My dorkiness is legendary, but my friend J-Freshness is what the kids refer to as “cool”. This saturday he dragged us along to a party at Opus 22, where we proceeded to dance until they closed the place.

Throughout the night we noticed that there were tons of cameramen with big old cameras. Being dorks, we assumed that they just liked taking pictures. It turns out they were from a Vlog called The New Pop Anyhow, P-I-C-K and S-U-M-R wound up showing up in the video for 1.5 secs. Check out the full entry for the video, and don’t blink!

Today I stumbled onto a .NET app called My Exposé that brings Exposé ilke functionality (they tell me, I don’t have a Mac yet) to Vista boxes. Basically, a keystroke, mouse gesture or other trigger brings up a full screen viewer that shows all of your open windows and allows you to switch focus to any of them. It also supports extensibility via plugins. Pretty cool!

After playing with it for a few hours, I stumbled onto the final Vista Intellipoint drivers for my mouse. In the process of testing out the new bits I learned that clicking the mouse wheel brings up pretty much the same sort of viewer! I may go back to My Exposé at some point, but for now the mouse integration of the Intellipoint software seems a bit more comfortable.

Odd fact, this is the first Pickabar post to feature the accent grave!

Last night I ventured over to Location One to attend the Dorkbot Great Music Dorkout of 2007. Well, actually, I stopped at Matt Umanov Guitars first to see if they could repair my acoustic electric. No dice, they told me it would cost more to fix than it would to buy a new one…but I digress.

Dorkbot is a worldwide series of meetings where folks who do interesting things with technology, or “people doing strange things with electricity” as their tagline goes. I have to say, it wasn’t at all what I expected. The presentations were interesting enough, but I walked in expecting some interesting performances. There was no live performance, even when a crowd member requested one from the designer of an electronic woodwind controller. The highlight was probably the MEAPsoft software which allows you to create plugins for chopping up and reconstituting sound files. They did some really interesting things with Michael Jackson’s “Beat It”; definitely worth checking out. Like I said, though, I walked in hoping for some interesting performance. However, that wasn’t really the point of the night, so I can’t blame anyone else but myself.

I was especially disappointed by the Princeton Laptop Orchestra, which is exactly what you might imagine, a group of people sitting on stage doing there best engrossed with my laptop at starbucks impersonation. This was the presentation that actually attracted me to dorkbot in the first place…I was hoping to be pleasantly surprised. I wasn’t. I should have checked out their website first.

The presenter and organizer of “PLOrk” (as it’s called) especially rubbed me the wrong way with his answer to the final question of the night:

Audience Member: Can you hum a memorable tune from one of your pieces?

PLOrk guy: Well <hums a traditional melody from one of the songs the group performed>….I’m not sure I understand the question.

…yeah, right. You didn’t understand the question. I’m sure PLOrk is doing some interesting things, but there just doesn’t seem to be much music there…unless you consider those white noise cds music. Listening to a discussion about the musical validity of the project and hearing some willingness to question even the basic assumptions about what they are doing would have gotten a lot of respect for the project from yours truly.

Why does it seem like every group of likeminded individuals or even people with a roughly common interest have to be offended and/or dismissive of any ideas or questions that might challenge the validity of what they are doing. How boring.

Don’t get me wrong, it was an interesting night, and I just may give dorkbot another try at some point. It just wasn’t what I was expecting.

Tonight, the anniversary of Phil Lynott’s from Thin Lizzy’s death, I’ll be watching “The Rocker: A Portrait of Phil Lynott” and thinking about doing anything I want to do. I’m sure I’ll get exactly what I’m expecting this time.

Keep rocking!

In The End

John was wrong,
Paul made a mistake,
what you give’s not important,
it’s what you take.

And if you walk away empty,
at the end of your days,
it’s like leaving the buffet,
with an empty tray.