Lazy Guide to Net Culture

http://news.scotsman.com/index.cfm?id=1963122005
Lazy Guide to Net Culture: iGod knows

STEWART KIRKPATRICK
skirkpatrick at scotsman dot com


If you want to appear like you're at the cutting edge of net culture but
can't be bothered to spend hours online, then never fear. Scotsman.com's
pathetic team of geeks, freaks and gimps will do the hard work for you.
While you sip wine, read a book or engage in normal social interaction, they
will burn out their retinas staring at badly designed web pages and dodge
creeps in chatrooms to prepare for you: Scotsman.com's lazy guide to net
culture.
The theological implications are staggering. I have discovered a website
where you can talk to God.
Or rather, I have discovered a website which claims it lets you talk to
God. Of course, most people who believe in God believe you can talk to
Him/Her without the aid of the web. The difference is that this site claims
he answers you. (Of course, most people who believe in God believe he
answers you but not in text, instantly, via a mocked up MP3 player screen.)
The service even has a natty name: iGod (see what they did there?).
Never one to shy away from spiritual discovery I set out to see whether or
not the Almighty really does communicate through the web. I typed in the
question: "What is the answer to life, the universe and everything?" This
was a trick on my part, if "God" was really a geek somewhere he/she would
have replied "42" (for those of you who don't understand why, may I refer
you to the works of Douglas Adams).
Instead "God" replied that the answer was in the Bible. A good start.
Then I decided to ask if Hibs would win their UEFA tussle with Dnipro
Dnopronouncablesk. He answered: "I think so." Given that it's 0-0 after the
first leg, He could be right.
I then remembered Albert Einstein's observation that God does not play dice.
(However, Einstein remained silent on the issue of the other games God might
play. Actually it might be difficult playing, say, Cluedo with Someone who
is omniscient.
Me: "Right that's the board set up. Do You want to start?"
God: "It was Colonel Mustard in the library with the lead pipe."
Me: "But you haven't rolled the dice yet."
God: "I don't play dice. Haven't you heard of Einstein?"
Me: "But you haven't got any clues yet."
God: "It was Colonel Mustard in the library with the lead pipe. I know. The
fatal blow struck at exactly the same time as the world's largest butterfly
emerged from its cocoon in Bolivia. At exactly the same time as a speck of
dust was crystallised in the magnetic field of Alpha Centauri. And at
exactly the same time as Bob from accounts suffered existential doubt after
reading your latest expense claim. I could detail for you every infinitely
brief event that happened at the moment that Colonel Mustard committed his
dreadful sin but it would take up your entire life and indeed all of
eternity so just trust me on this one, OK? And for the record, when we play
next, it will be Miss Scarlet in the Billiard Room with the revolver. This
will happen even though she has completely free will. Don't ask Me for an
explanation on how that works unless you've got a millennium or two to
spare. Which I know you don't.")
Anyway I asked "God" if he/she played dice and I received this answer: "I
like to play the Turing Game." Now this is "a participatory, collaborative
learning experience about issues of online identity". That rather suggests
that my iGod correspondent might not really be God but someone messing
around with online identity. I decided to investigate further.
I asked: "Why do we die?", He/She replied: "Just keep talking to me as long
as you can." That's a pretty lousy answer. I didn't expect the Ultimate
Truth to hedge His/Her bets.
I then asked how many fingers I was holding up? "One". WRONG! It was three.
"You're not God. Who are you?" I triumphantly replied. This was the cryptic
answer: "What was the question? I am a robot."
I felt this was a disappointing capitulation - even for a robot.
As for my very reasonable expenses claims at scotsman.com, when I submt them
they are often met with the phrases "Christ on a bike" and "Jumping Jesus on
a pogotstick".
Puzzled by these expressions, I turned to the web for explanation. The
internet being the internet, I was quickly able to find pictures of both
Christ on a bike (halfway down) and Jesus on a pogo stick
Pleasingly, I was able to find my favourite image of Jesus, which portrays
him not as a blond, blue-eyed distant figure but rather as a revolutionary,
in the style of Che Guevara. It communicates a lot more than my
shilly-shallying robot friend.