I don’t know whether I have mentioned this before.  I probably have but my feeble mind has already forgotten.  I think that everything we put on line might be able to be used in the reconstruction of our consciousness if we are not still around when the technology of the futurists allows us to be uploaded into computers.

Ray Kurzweil, uber futurist numero uno believes that with the technology of the future he will be able to bring back his father who is as we speak long deceased.  I suppose he will use some of his DNA.  DNA is everywhere.  It should be possible to clone almost everyone.  The problem is that most of a person’s make up comes from nurture rather than nature, sorry eugenecists.  Those memories from our lives are what makes us who we are.  Therefore in order to reconstruct a new clone with our consciousness we need as many of our memories as it is possible to harvest.

This blog, in fact all my blogs and all my collected works go into my insurance policy.  I am going to litter the internet with crap that my estate can try to gather up to make Frankenmonmouth.  Obviously I will need to splurge regularly.  Easier said than done.  Luckily most of my working life is taken up in writing words that can be input into the monster.  I imagine that most people will gain the idea that I am a serious and thoughtful man from my working life so I have to produce this drivel as well to ensure that a reasonable level of levity remains in my new robot chassis.

Already we have “That can be my next tweet”.  Admittedly it is rubbish but in the future we may have that can be my next blog, that can be my next facebook comment, that can be my next google update.  I intend to be hounding all your lives long after I am, god forbid, gone.  I will merge with my online identity and then one day I will suddenly realise that I am not getting updates to Flickr anymore.  I daresay I will continue blogging and tweeting beyond that time and they will declare me legally dead.  But I have never let a thing like death get in my way before.


About harrymonmouth

Full of grace and fair regard, a true lover of the holy church. The courses of his youth promised it not but his body has become a paradise enveloping and containing celestial spirits. He has a sudden scholar become after reformation, in a flood, with heady currance scoured his faults and unseated his Hydra-headed wilfulness. Hear him but reason in divinity, and all-admiring with an inward wish you would desire he were made a prelate: Hear him debate of commonwealth affairs, You would say it hath been all in all his study: List his discourse of war, and you shall hear a fearful battle render'd you in music: Turn him to any cause of policy, the Gordian knot of it he will unloose, familiar as his garter: that, when he speaks, the air, a charter'd libertine, is still, and the mute wonder lurketh in men's ears, to steal his sweet and honey'd sentences; so that the art and practic part of life must be the mistress to this theoric: Which is a wonder how he should glean it, since his addiction was to courses vain, his companies unletter'd, rude and shallow, his hours fill'd up with riots, banquets, sports, and never noted in him any study, any retirement, any sequestration from open haunts and popularity.

Posted on October 30, 2011, in Uncategorized. Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.

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