Monthly Archives: December 2014

Big Data

How big is big data?

It is REALLY BIG. In fact it is BIGGER than REALLY BIG. Data is continuously generated around the clock, around the globe. This article included. It is so big we can hardly keep up. We are drowning in a sea of 0s and 1s. We can’t begin to even wrap our heads around it. Do you see what we mean?
Only certain agencies understand the enormousness. Those agencies are trying to collect all that data all the time. Do you know how exhausting that is? You don’t. But they do. They are employing the latest algorithms and the most advanced technological solutions to sort out this madness. However it is rumored that the projections are such that they will always be behind by 10 years. We don’t know that for sure because so far we know we cannot track them, yet. We are not them. Why would you think that? Did Putin tell you that?
To give you a sense of how big data is, and to move away from the abstract to the specific, we will hereby share with you some of our predictions:

We know with 98% accuracy that Dorothy of Bethesda, Maryland is sitting on her white rocking chair on her balcony, wearing her white robe, and sipping her white wine with her fake blond hair neatly trimmed and parted to the left. She is reading this very article on Monday of the week this post is published at 8:27 pm. BTW Dorothy, you overpaid for that wine; you overlooked a coupon on the next counter valid for a 20% discount for your favorite brand. Also, stop logging to your online banking account while checking out lesbians websites.

We also know with 93% accuracy that Mike of Denver, Ohio is reading this very article on his commute home from work. He is smiling as he reads and he keeps lifting his head, absent mindedly checking out other riders until he reaches this very sentence. His ears turn red. His nose itches. And the panic starts to get hold of him. Oh no, Mike, please don’t do that. Stop! There is no need to tweet about this particular incident. We said no!
Be nice now.

@Dorothy-of-Bethesda-Maryland and @Mike-of-Denver-Ohio we are sorry for the inconvenience. Although it may feel we are singling you out, it is not personal. We are not monitoring you; this information is only based on metadata that we are collecting and some computer generated predictions. There is really no need to be alarmed; really. The good news is that you are US citizens and you are not on our list. That’s really good news; you should celebrate at your respective favorite restaurants: Chez Jean-Paul and The Flames.

Using big data collected from your phone, GPS, emails, and credits card transactions, companies are now offering you services, at affordable prices, to recommend to you alternative routes when you are stuck in highway if they know you will be late for a meeting they think it is very important for you not to be late for, so that you don’t jeopardize your career. They will notify you when you are about to miss an important birthday call or an anniversary celebration. Most importantly, they will alert you if your wife is within the vicinity of your hot date with the new intern. What’s really cool though, is that they can tell for certain when you will die. It’s just they need to know how to capitalize on that. As for now, they can’t sell advertising to dead people.

Following your digital footprints, China is now able to custom build for you that specific bath to fit you and your dogs. They have moved from the mass production to individualized products taking into account your budget, the city, and the country where you reside. The lawyers finished preparing your divorce papers three years before you decided to divorce your spouse. Your employer knows you are leaving for another offer, four months beforehand, and they chose not to counter for they are happy to see you go.
Amazon has already packaged items for you that you will buy from them for the next two years. I know you think your life is exciting but it is not so for us, or for big data companies and their friends. You are just another row in an Excel sheet and there is a percentage associated with each of your actions, wishes, and dark secrets.

To conclude, we know with 85% accuracy that 37% of you readers will not panic. You will just accept these revelations as the new way of life now, and move on rather quickly.
There is 99% chance that 12% of you will want to do something about this. However, your actions will have no consequence. We are not worried. In fact, you should rest assured we know what’s best for you. We have done our math and it all adds up very nicely. Just follow our recommendations and every one of us will benefit handsomely.
We provide you with what you really want because we know you better than yourself, and for that we will get your money, in return, as you buy our recommendations. It is a win-win for all. That’s the way we like it. Don’t you?

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Road to the Garden

If you could briefly hold my hand,
lead me to the gardens,
I will follow: steady, incremental,
like the wind gust before landfall.

To create a space to breathe,
I rely on beauty.
Free me from the forms.
And toss out alignment, too.
Music stays like a drowning man
clutching a rope.

Loneliness is prolonged
and acceptance seems random.
Granted by a nod from the tribe’s chiefs
or a lucky encounter at a bar, downtown,
with a conflicted, vexed beauty
angry at her boyfriend
over a heated debate
about the merits of a sentence
a famous critic had uttered.

I gather pictures of women
who look like you.
Your eyes glow, sing,
and their light is cozy.
But it’s not your eyes
I am after. Nor your lips.
Body nor mind. But
your presence, happiness,
solitude, anger, pride,
and above all your rare and short stays.

Daylight is sometimes majestic.
Capturing it can be deadly.

Even when a critic tears
poems to pieces and feeds them to a shredder,
the poems are better off.
He might have been enraged,
but he cared.

The windows don’t know how to deceive.
The rain rarely discriminates.
When it floods, water can’t be discreet.

Sweet secrets told to you atop
the mountains, in the rain,
on a shaky ride down at dark,
with zero visibility,
will evaporate like fog
by the time you hit the valley.

Poets whisper to the sun,
flirt with the dawn, cry with the poor,
uproot trees, set fires for long nights.
They befriend the sulfurous moon.

Despite hope’s illusion
to be barely alive,
it was dead at birth!

My desire for you is
poisonous, spills over.
If I were to hold your breasts
I may faint
but I know I won’t be awed
the next time.
I would rather obsess about your absence!

My passion is rich, warm as your skin,
flies high with eagles and runs
with hungry cheetahs.
The weight of a child’s joy
on his father’s heart.

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