Benjamen Walker's Theory of Everything - Admissions Of Defeat

Episode Date: October 3, 2013

We check in with a few of our TOE regulars: Peter Choyce has is one of my oldest friends and a listener favorite, but he has a secret we’ve never addressed until now. We also check in with our D.C. correspondent “Chris” who tells us about the NSA’s desire to install backdoors in Podcasts. Also, I tell you the story about what happens when I wander into @psychic for a late night reading. PLUS: a few extracts from ‘Brand New World’ *********Click on the image for the whole story about this week’s installment**********

You are listening to Benjamin Walker's Theory of Everything. At Radiotopia, we now have a select group of amazing supporters that help us make all our shows possible. If you would like to have your company or product sponsor this podcast, then get in touch. Drop a line to sponsor at radiotopia.fm. Thanks. episode. Why is there something called influencer voice? What's the deal with the TikTok shop? What is posting disease and do you have it? Why can it be so scary and yet feel so great to block someone on social media? The Neverpost team wonders why the internet and the world because of the internet is the way it is. They talk to artists, lawyers, linguists, content creators, sociologists, historians, and more about our current tech and media moment. From PRX's Radiotopia, Never Post, a podcast for and about the Internet.

Episodes every other week at neverpo.st and wherever you find pods. You are listening to Benjamin Walker's Theory of Everything. The following installment is called Admissions of Defeat. I was sober for two full days. I tried my best, but sobriety, what do you do then, you know? So this is why you sound so terrible. You're back on the crystal meth. I have a condition that's called aftostomatitis.

The entire tongue is one big canker sore. All the way down my throat. It's hard for me to talk. Peter, I don't understand why you would do this. What's so hard to understand? The problem is that there's no plan on what to do with me once I simply detox. That is so not the problem.

Oh, you're such a know-it-all. You people, you don't have the experience. Peter, I have first-hand experience. I've been recording the whole thing. I'm a witness to you flushing your life down the toilet for meth.

Well, I disagree. I think my life was out of control anyway. That's why I started doing drugs. It wasn't, though. You were doing great. No, no, no. You don't know. When I was fired by Central Casting

and KXOU, that had nothing to do with the drug. That's crazy. You're crazy to think that. Yeah, but you want to avoid cliches. No. Not everything you hear is true. I'm telling you my experience.

No, you're deluded. Crystal meth is the reason your life sucks. No, crystal meth actually worked for me for about eight long years. Crystal meth was my only friend. It kept me from being lonely and depressed. It worked. It wasn't like one of the antidepressants that the doctor prescribed that didn't work,

but just made me gain 40 pounds. I'm telling you the truth. The reason why I took it was because it worked. So you've learned nothing. Absolutely nothing. I learned one thing. What? Drug addicts are the most maligned people on earth. People don't, there's no sympathy. You know, I was not a sympathetic character when I told the police I was carjacked.

They just wanted to arrest me. Yeah, I know. I know. It's so hard to get sympathy from a cop when you're all methed out and talking crazy. Well, you know. But hold on a second. You got carjacked? Yes, I was carjacked.

By who? This nice girl named Karen who claims she's from Belize. And she was a crack whore. But wait, why do you have this crack person in your car? The story is really long. I don't know. You really want the long version? Peter, how did she get in your car?

The longer story, I don't know if you can fit it in your program. Just tell me what happened. She wanted to go get some crack. That's what happened. Oh, my God. And I didn't want to go get crack. So I stopped at the coffee place, but I didn't think that she would carjack me.

Peter, how did you get in this situation? I don't remember. Oh, man. This is what happens when you are high on a bus. Everything's going fine, right? Super exhilarating, right? You know something's wrong and you have to get out of it, right? But everything's still under control, right?

And then when you realize your car is gone and you just got a car eject, instantly you crash. It's called a buzzkill. But you crash in the most psychotic way imaginable.

When I saw her go down the street, I had an absolute mental breakdown. I had no money, no keys, no cell phone. I didn't know who to call. And I was isolated. I was wandering the streets of Los Angeles for two straight days, disoriented. Moaning loudly, talking to myself.

I don't even know what to say. What are you going to do now? I'm going to rehab. For how long? Until they let me go. I am going to stay there until they help me come up with a plan of what I'm supposed to do now that I'm sober. Otherwise, it's a waste.

So what can I do to help? I need to find a good book. The thing I learned in rehab, you need to have your own book, your own music. They won't let you do anything. They take away your belt and your shoelaces, that whole thing, you know. You have to have wireless headphones. What kind of junkie owns a pair of wireless headphones? Some people in Las Encinas actually were in there before,

and they knew how to do it. I saw them, and they were not without music, and I was, and it sucked. I can't live without the music. Well, I'm not going to send you a pair of wireless headphones, but I am willing to go on Amazon right now and pick out a book for you. So tell me what you want. I want to read some kind of maybe existential thing

that's inspiring but not in a hokey Oprah way about some really fucked up life that's, you know, titillating and how they got their shit together or something. Okay, inspiring. Fucked up life. Not Oprah. Something that would inspire me. Okay, inspiring. Sucked up live. Not Oprah. I don't think they would inspire me. Self-help.

Self-help is no good. They always want you to find God. There is no God. Okay, negative self-help. I'm very sure it's about... Homo's enough. What? It's dancing. It's the homos. It's dancing.

It's the gay drug. And it's sex. Okay, homosexual crystal meth inspiring not self-help. You know, you're totally ruining my Amazon algorithm, by the way. You do understand that. Oh, God, man. You know, I can hardly talk. Oh, wait.

Wait. I think I got something. It's called Meth Equals Sorcery. Know the truth. Sorcery? Oh, yeah. Witchcraft? Yeah.

That's good. Yeah. You know, you can't rely on anybody. What are you talking about? I'm trying to find you a book so I can send it to you at rehab. Oh, God. No, no, you have to trust me on this one. It's about a man who escapes the devil and meth through dancing.

What a waste of meth, dancing. Well, I have a very good feeling about this one. And plus, it is only 79 cents. And it's a top meth book. It's such a special drug. All right, well, I'm adding this to the cart. And, you know, let's see. Maybe this book will be the thing that turned your life around. Close your eyes.

Now, on the count of three, I want you to open them. But when you do, it will be a different world. You will be in the brand new world. Starting right now, you are a brand. You're every bit as much a brand as Nike, Coke, Pepsi, or the body shop. So start thinking like you're your own brand manager. Give yourself the traditional 15 words or less contest challenge. What is it that my product or service does that makes it different, unique, special? Take the time to write down your answer,

and then take the time to read it, several times. And then, read it the way you would read it if you were on Donald Trump's TV show, The Apprentice. Then fire yourself, the way Donald Trump would fire you for reading it badly. Now imagine yourself out on the street, sleeping in a park, hungry. Now imagine reading your answer to a woman who's working the front desk of a homeless shelter.

A woman who is standing between you and a bed. If her eyes don't light up, then you've got a big problem. It's time to give some serious thought and even more serious effort to imagining and developing yourself as a brand. Now that the recession's over, and all of the downsized and downtrodden have been carted off to greener and grassier pastures, I once again feel safe to meander the streets and alleyways of my neighborhood, even in the dead of night. 7-Eleven, Duane Reade, Rite Aid, CBS, Chipotle, Starbucks, Pret-a-Manger, and banks of ATM machines now flood the streets with blinding illumination.

There are no more dark shadows to be frightened by. In fact, thanks to all this chain store neon, my neighborhoods become the cell phone selfie backdrop of choice, safe enough even for new New York City. Even the old-timers have stopped protesting and complaining. Everyone understands now just how tenuous, how precarious one's place here is. The greasy burger joint on 2nd Avenue added the word organic to all of its signs and menus.

The bodega on my corner booted its mouser from the front window and replaced her with a blender with a sign that promises smoothies 24-7. And the packaged liquor store on 5th Street moved all its nips off the counter and is changing its name to the Ritzy Spritz. But these are not magic words. They do not ward off evil. They offer no protection from the tattooed, mustached, and vested young men who idle on the sidewalks out front. As soon as they figure out where the Italian espresso machines, rescued wood paneling, and iron wall fixtures go, they will move in for the kill. But there are a few establishments in my neighborhood that seem extremely well positioned to make this transition from the old to the new. Like the psychic on Avenue C. Now, at Psychic, they've even added a blue neon checkmark to their new sign. And underneath, hashtag change your life, hashtag big psychic data.

The other night, on one of my walks, I decide to go in. A young woman is sitting in a chair. She looks up at me, and we stare at each other. Then the curtains part, and an older woman emerges from the back. Good evening, she says. Would you like to have your fortune told? Mother, the woman in the chair interrupts without taking her eyes off me. You promised.

The older woman clenches her teeth and pauses for a second, and then says, I would like to offer you a one-time only half-price consultation with my daughter, Siri, she says, gesturing to the woman in the chair. Like the iPhone, I laugh, but my joke falls flat. You can say no, the woman continues, and I can offer you a full-price traditional reading, but for half price, I offer you a new post-psychic experience, her voice trails. It's called psychic big data, mother, Siri says. And that is why I can truly answer all of your questions, she continues, now focused solely on me.

I can tell you where you will find money, happiness, and love. And I won't just give you a map. I will provide you with the GPS coordinates. I will even show you with the GPS coordinates. I will even show you which roads to avoid. I'm not sure if it's her confidence or my desperation, but I can't stop myself, and I sit down in the empty chair.

The older woman then withdraws, back behind the curtains. Siri hands me a tablet computer. Is this an iPad, I ask? No, she says, it is my crystal phablet. Sure enough, it is a tablet or phone-sized device ensconced in crystal, and there's a login box on the screen. I type in my name. What do I put for the password? You must enter in your most secret password, Siri replies, the one that will unlock your soul. I have no idea what this might be, so I just type in Batman. The screen begins to swirl and pulsate.

Siri gestures for me to hand it back to her. Her fingers glide and click across the surface. You're not on Facebook, she says. Why not? You tell me, I laugh. You're the psychic. Her eyes flick up and meet mine. Without saying anything, she strips out the passivity from my comment and then hurls all the aggressive parts right back at me. My heart skips a beat. Can you envision your face on a prepaid personal debit card that could be sold to your fans and followers, she asks? And if not, why not?

I guess I believe that there's a difference between saying something and selling something. She scowls at this, and the gliding and clicking begins to slow. Your lack of ambition and inability to think big is related to the extremely low number of Twitter followers you have. For a small extra fee, I could bring you legions more. I'm not interested in buying fake Twitter bots, I say as politely as I can. Again, her eyes flick up to meet mine. You misunderstand me. I am not selling bots. I have the power to show you why your words fall upon deaf ears, never to be retweeted

or favorited. And for a nominal fee, I can provide you with the tools you need to raise your profile and your visibility. We can realign your brand so that it signals strength, vitality, fortitude, and success. I want to tell her how ridiculous this all is and how distasteful I find her version of psychic brand management to be, I want to call out to her mother in the back, beg her for a traditional reading. But before I can open my mouth, she tilts up the device in her hand. I can see my reflection on the screen. And as I gaze into Siri's crystal phablet, I catch a glimpse of my future personal brand. I look good, not too shabby. I seem content, nicely aligned,

so I don't say anything. I just nod my head in agreement when she asks me if I'm ready for the next level and if I have the money to pay for it. Listen carefully. I am going to tell you how to make your mark in the brand new world. First, ask yourself, what do I do that adds remarkable, measurable, distinguished, distinctive value? Where did you eat? What did you wear? What did you tweet? Then ask yourself, what do I do that I am most proud of?

I want to hear you brag. You need to project the qualities that define you as being first class, type A, top shelf, primo. When you've done that, sit down and ask yourself one more question. And this is one you must have an answer for. Are you a loser or are you a luxury? so my favorite bar in dc is just you know off the beaten track old man's bar where the degenerates hang out and the washington power people don't go so it's strange when I see someone from that set in this place. Like the other night, when I came out of the bathroom, I could see there was a suit up at the bar, which, like I said, is always just weird to see. But then I hear, hey, Chris, what's up?

Who is this guy? Well, we'll just call him Mr. Johnny. He is a guy I know from working at NSA. And he's a pretty good guy. And as I get closer, he seems really excited to see me and gestures for me to sit down next to him. So I walk up and he says, hey, good to see you. How you doing?

Let me get you a drink. What do you think about the Snowden leaks? Wait, like all of that in one sentence? Yeah, like just like that. Bam, bam, bam. So I was like, I'm okay. Thanks. I'll, you know, have a whiskey and soda. And, you know, wow, it's complicated. I've read that the NSA is now examining its contractors,

putting them under the microscope. Is that what's going on here? Are you getting an official interview? I'll admit I had a similar thought. But, you know, I mean, I know this guy, and I'm in my bar, and it's just me and him talking talking and the regulars in the background. But at the same time, this guy's really intense.

You know, I take a sip of my drink at this point and he just leans in and he says, OK, but seriously, what do you think about Edward Snowden, the man? And I say, well, you know, I don't think it's good that he's in Russia right now. And the guy slams his hand on the bar and is like, yeah, exactly. Oh, this is not a casual bar conversation, my friend. You did realize that, right? Yeah, at this point, not a casual bar conversation, my friend. You did realize that, right? Yeah. At this point, he definitely makes it clear that he's trying to

determine what team I'm on. He puts his arm around my shoulder and he says, I got one more question for you and then we're done.

Do you think that Edward Snowden's actions have damaged national security? So I look at him and I say, OK, I think about it this way. The turning point of World War II was when the Allies broke the Nazis' Enigma code, the code that they thought was unbreakable. And we broke it, and that intelligence was extremely important to winning the war effort. And if the Nazis had found out that we had broken the code, they would have changed their encryption and we wouldn't have been able to monitor their transmissions. So it is certainly a bad thing

that now criminals, terrorists, rogue nations, etc. know the NSA has built these back doors and other vulnerabilities into secure systems. And he's like, woo, yes, that's what I'm talking about. Again, he stands up and he like raises his glass. Let's have a shout. NSA! NSA! NSA! And I look at him, I say, but... And he's like, what? What? And I'm like, yeah, just hear me out, sit down. So he's like, no, no, no, we're good. We're good, you're done.

What are you trying to do? I mean, isn't it obvious what's going on here? What are you trying to do i mean isn't it obvious what's what's going on here what are you trying to say well i wasn't done and i told him look man sit down and he just kind of stares at me for a second like i'm crazy you know but then he sits back down and I scoop my bar stool over next to him. And I say, these back doors, these vulnerabilities will be used by bad people. And I'm not just talking about some guy hacking into his ex-girlfriend's Facebook page. Or even a gang stealing credit cards or committing identity fraud i'm talking about malicious or incompetent people using these vulnerabilities to take down financial networks electric grids air traffic control systems nuclear power plants i tell, we've built a back door

to Armageddon. Oh, man. So what does he say to that? Well, as I'm pouring my heart out, he's scribbling on a bar napkin, and at first I think he's just doodling. But when I'm finished, he holds up the napkin,

and it says, can you just say, quote, I think the leaks are really bad, unquote. Oh, my God. What do you do? I looked him straight in the eye and in a loud voice that everyone in the bar could hear, even over the TV. I said, I think the leaks are really bad. Wow. So this really was a loyalty interview.

Not exactly. It was an interview, but it was a job interview. Wait, he's trying to hire you? Yeah. Yeah. He takes out a lighter, burns the napkin, and then he says, look, man, I'm putting together a team to get into podcasts. And I'm like, what do you mean? And he says in this whisper, we want to build back doors into podcasts. And I think with your history, we could really use you. Your history?

Does he know that you're like a regular on my podcast? Yes, I think it's safe to say this is a known fact. Wow. But wait a second. The NSA wants to put back doors into podcasts. What does that even mean? I don't know. And I don't know if we'll ever find out.

What? Well, before we even had our first team meeting, you know, the government shut down. And Mr. Johnny's disappeared. All I got was, like, one text message that went like, In Vegas. It's crazy. Back doors to government.

Not working. Wish me luck. you've been listening to benjamin walker theory of everything this installment is called Admissions of Defeat. It featured Peter Choice, Kelly Jones and Chris. It was produced by Benjamin Walker with assistance from Bill Bowen and Ruvina Kuning. You can get more Theory of Everything, including text audio and video extras at toe.prx.org. And this is where you can subscribe to the Theory of Everything podcast. Radiotopia

from PRX