One of the interesting frictions at Gawker is the way its original operating philosophy has translated into clickpeddling.— Matt Pearce (@mattdpearce) February 24, 2014
Nick Denton has this a interesting and important idea about the asymmetry between what gets reported and what reporters actually *know.*— Matt Pearce (@mattdpearce) February 24, 2014
I.E., Gawker will get its advantage by writing about the things that are open secrets in New York power circles.— Matt Pearce (@mattdpearce) February 24, 2014
Now that it’s expanded into a HuffPo-style news aggregator, that idea has totally inverted on itself.— Matt Pearce (@mattdpearce) February 24, 2014
Many of stories that it likes to chase, the viral-ready ones, are exactly the kind of stories that would not bear up to closer scrutiny.— Matt Pearce (@mattdpearce) February 24, 2014
In other words, if you actually knew what was going on, you know the stories complicate exponentially and enter vast emotional grey areas.— Matt Pearce (@mattdpearce) February 24, 2014
Many of the things you click on and read for 15 seconds specifically require you *not* to know what’s actually going on.— Matt Pearce (@mattdpearce) February 24, 2014
The asymmetry economy.— Matt Pearce (@mattdpearce) February 24, 2014
Love the wound.— proustitute (@proustitute) February 25, 2014
I’d watch a “Minority Report”-type movie about cops racing around and trying to prevent mass shootings, which is our current anomie.— Matt Pearce (@mattdpearce)February 18, 2014
Just watch the patterns. Watch for when connections stop.
All the data gets piped into a brick building in Omaha.
Servers throb inside a white room nobody sees.
It’s not what people are doing but what they aren’t.
The data gets bundled off to New York and L.A.,
which cover each half of the lonely continent.
The agents mind the maps, watching for future killers.
The nation is a great mind, full of love and brilliance.
Every citizen is a cell, every house a synapse;
most pulse with bright blue light. That means connectivity.
The quiet ones simmer in red. Rule of thumb: red = dead.
The reds lead to raids — big, exciting, noisy ordeals.
Lots of helicopters and agents in very black masks.
Deadgetters, they call themselves in magazine interviews.
For some reason, the analysts are mostly men.
"Dead" is a recent euphemism. The men mean silence.
Dead silent: The breakup before the snap. The layoff
before the gun buy. The solitude of drug abuse.
Fewer connections, less social control, fewer brakes.
The dead reds are separated into categories of risk factors,
which is why the agency employs so many ex-insurers.
The suspects are mostly men, too, for obvious reasons.
In the early years of the program, most of the busts
were poets — red falses, auditors called them later.
The first was reading Yeats on the toilet when the cops came in.
Unrequited love, he said. A glitch. No charges filed.
The next bust was an angry gun collector, deep, deep red.
His wife had died. His mad diary was on a sheaf of printer paper.
Retired, he had a pain-pill addiction because of arthritis;
also, an AR-15 with a stock of newly purchased extended magazines.
They took him away. Please no more death dreams, his diary said.
His case remains on appeal, as do 1,305 others.
Prosecutors said he screams in his cell.
Later the agents snagged one skateboarder with a Glock
and twenty magazines in a duffle bag while headed out the door.
Why were you going to do it? the interrogators asked later.
Forensics found vague poetry on his laptop, plus a list of classmates.
The kid shrugged and asked for a lawyer. “Fuck you,” he added.
He has also appealed.
Over lunch, analysts read books about gangs and serial killers.
"We were born in the wrong era," muttered one younger agent,
dreaming of Gambinos and Genoveses, instead of today’s shmucks.
The laptop killers. Little men in little rooms. Awaiting red fate.
The broken parts of the beautiful thought that is this democracy.
It gets quiet at HQ.
Blue light pulses in waves.
The analysts search for stillness.
The shootings have been disappearing.
The red dots have been getting harder to find.
"Everything is connecting today," says a recent readout.
An analyst stares at CNN, which says, according to a new study,
the average noise level in outdoor life has gotten louder every year.