The Only Winning Move
“A strange game. The only winning move is not to play.” [The WOPR computer at the conclusion of “War Games” (1983).]
“War Games” is a 1983 movie starring Matthew Broderick, Ally Sheedy, John Wood and Dabney Coleman. I fell in love with this film the first time I saw it, at the State Theater in downtown Corvallis, during the first week of its release. A friend of mine had dropped by my apartment and said, “let’s go see ‘War Games’.” I hadn’t heard of it, but I said, “sure, ok.” (1983 is a couple of years before I first touched the keyboard and mouse of an Apple Macintosh, but I was, perhaps, influenced by this film, in the direction of my now long-time interest in computers.)
This is the story of a high school student, David Lightman (a stunningly-young Matthew Broderick, pre-Ferris-Bueller), an intelligent, but somewhat-naïve, underachiever with an interest in computers and computer games. He gets caught up in a dramatic, but mostly-unrealistic, scenario whereby he almost causes the end of the world by initiating WW III. The primary setting is Seattle, WA.
I watched this movie again this week (now available on Max) for maybe the tenth or fifteenth time. I think it’s totally fascinating to see the world portrayed as it existed in the Cold War era, before September 11th, and prior to the technology that we all now take for granted. How did we even exist in the pre-internet era of floppy discs and dime-eating pay phones!?
In search of the latest computer game by an outfit called ProtoVision, David searches for all the phone-modem-equipped computers in Sunnyvale, CA, and stumbles upon a Defense-Department machine called the WOPR (“War Operation Plan Response” – it’s pronounced like the Burger King sandwich, “whopper”). He ultimately finds a way into this machine via a back-door password left there by the original designer. The WOPR believes, therefore, that David is “Professor Falken,” its creator. Now posing as the Professor, he finds the game programs on this machine and elects to play, not chess, not poker, but rather something called “Global Thermonuclear War.” David chooses the side of the USSR in the conflict and initiates a nuclear strike on the US.
The machine interprets the entire activity, as “real” and, logically, takes steps to protect the US from the perceived attack. In the tense conclusion, during which time the WOPR seeks to find all the codes it needs to launch its nuclear-warhead-equipped missiles, David comes to the rescue at NORAD headquarters by requesting that WOPR play itself in an infinite number of tic-tac-toe games. Spoiler alert: World War III is averted when the WOPR “learns” that not only is that game nonsense, but any potential scenario leading to WW III is similarly fruitless: there’s simply no winner when, as it turns out, all outcomes lead to global annihilation.
As the film ends, the WOPR announces (in a semi-Hal-like voice) its assessment of “Global Thermonuclear War,” (to the relief of all at NORAD command): “A strange game. The only winning move is not to play.”
Interestingly, this is the same thought I had recently when a once-close personal relationship wound its way to a tortuous, scorched-earth conclusion. Ugh.
Soundtrack Suggestion
Don’t you understand what I’m trying to say
Can’t you feel the fears I’m feeling today?
If the button is pushed, there’s no runnin’ away
There’ll be no one to save with the world in a grave
Take a look around you boy, it’s bound to scare you, boy
And you tell me
Over and over and over again, my friend
How you don’t believe
We’re on the eve of destruction
(“Eve of Destruction” – Barry McGuire)
Generosity and Free Will
“I was trying to figure out what I should have already told you, but I never have. Something important, something every father should impart to his daughter. I finally got it: generosity. Be generous, with your time, with your love, with your life.” [From a terminally-ill, near death, Dr. Mark Greene, to daughter Rachel, during “On the Beach,” an episode of “ER,” May 9, 2002; emphasis mine.]
I wrote last time about my fall on the ice during the recent storm. As reported, I did not break any bones; however, the residual effects of the mishap continue to linger on. The trauma of the tumble seems to have taken up residence in my lower and upper back – as well as in my psyche. My spirits are quite low.
In the first two weeks after the storm, I had massage, physical-therapy, and Zero-balancing sessions – in addition to my regularly-scheduled therapy appointment. At this point, though, my recovery still has a way to go. I need significantly more time – andhelp- to facilitate my healing.
In questioning my life’s choices during this period of blueness, I reviewed an essay from February 2006 here on Musings entitled “Generosity.” I have had reason to reflect again on the meaning of this term and specifically its place in the context of friendship.
What am I talking about? Well, I now have reason to believe that what I had experienced as acts of generosity from a friend were, perhaps, deeds that had been misinterpreted by me. I now suspect that perhaps some kind of relational score-keeping had been in play. This has sent me even more into an emotional tailspin, leading me into a deeper examination of my own behavior; to wit: Who am I as a friend? Am I in search of some kind of reciprocity rather than act from a generous spirit? Am I generous enough with my love? My time? My energy? My life? Who am I, really? And, in this context, how am I perceived by others?
I have always believed that each of our lives are comprised of our own individual choices – a sum of the good and/or bad. This long-held belief has, recently, however, come to be challenged. During the last few weeks I have been trying to make my way through Determined by Robert Sapolsky, a dense academic treatise on the topic of free will. Sapolsky makes the compelling argument that, essentially, free will is a myth -- that our livesare really the sum of our biology, our environment, our experiences, of human evolution. The theory is that whatever we choose to do in any moment is dictated by the sum of our life up until the previous moment, that that moment is the result of the previous moment, on and on and on. From Sapolsky’s viewpoint “…all we are is the history of our biology, over which we have no control, and of its interaction with environments, over which we also have no control, creating who we are in the moment” (Sapolsky, 2023, p. 85).
So, in this particular paradigm of human existence, none of us can really be held accountable for our actions – they have all been pre-determined. In fact, every act of mine (ours), lets say in the matters of charity or generosity, are built into us and that we don’t really choose to behave in one way or the other.
I admit that I find myself being quite depressed at the concept that my (and your) existence has already been determined in advance, that my (our) choices are not really choices. Thinking about this interpretation of being human has not done anything positive for my spirits.
So, in sum, right now my body and my soul are in pain. I am seeking help from various sources to manage life right now. But I am in a state of confusion about the meaning of the human experience and what actions I (we) may (or may not) have control over. I am wondering what “choice” is --and whether or not I have the ability to actually choose the right way to work my way out of this painful period.
Reference
Sapolsky, R. (2023). Determined. New York: Penguin Press.
Ten Before Thirty
I just finished reading Ten Before Thirty, the debut novel by Yana Kazan, a work that was recommended to me recently by friends. I was informed that Kazan is the pen name of a former professional colleague and that the novel is autobiographical in nature; of course I was intrigued.
Ten Before Thirty can most appropriately be described as a coming-of-age story. The protagonist is Annie Zechman who we first meet at the age of ten as she mystically encounters her long-dead great-grandmother Flora. Flora warns her that there are ten “really bad” things coming at her and that Annie has the choice of experiencing them early in life - or later. Annie chooses “early,” namely before the age of thirty. Hence the title of the book.
One of the earliest, really bad things to happen is the sudden death of her father at the age of 52. As the narrative unfolds, we learn, in quite some detail, about several of the other traumatic events she encounters; when tallied up they are undoubtedly more than ten in number. We find out, for example, that as a young child, Annie was molested by her grandfather. And early on, Annie’s single-parent mother finds a man, marries, and moves the family to Dallas, Texas. It is the early Sixties and as Annie is finishing high school, President Kennedy is assassinated nearby during her senior year.
We then follow Annie through her undergraduate years at a women’s college in Missouri and to grad school in Wisconsin. And yes, the “really bad” things keep coming. Annie has very few friends during these early years, and her choice of emotionally-unavailable men along the way almost certainly works against her best interest. The list of traumas includes (but is not limited to): the loss of a love; date and stranger rape; being hit by a car; nearly being kidnapped; and being strip-searched in jail. It is an eye-opening account of a somewhat naïve and vulnerable female as she attempts to navigate the rather hostile world of the turbulent Sixties and Seventies.
By the time the book ends, we know that Annie has had a number of therapists to help her along the way, that she has successfully completed her bachelor’s and master’s degrees, and has embarked on the path to a Ph.D. program in educational administration. Of course, life goes on, and nothing protects any of us from the natural and inevitable traumas of being human, but perhaps we can trust that Annie has the tools and life experience to successfully navigate future “really bad” things.
Given the historical references in the text, it is not difficult to discern the actual timeline. The period in which this story takes place corresponds almost precisely with my life. If I’ve calculated correctly, I am one year younger than Annie; I was a junior in high school when JFK was assassinated, for example. To the extent that the story is autobiographical, I now know much more about “Annie’s” early years than she knows of mine. I found the book wonderfully-written, skillfully-edited and highly-compelling. My vote: an enthusiastic thumbs up.
Soundtrack Suggestion
Tin soldiers and Nixon coming
We’re finally on our own
This summer I hear the drumming
Four dead in Ohio
Gotta get down to it, soldiers are cutting us down
Should have been gone long ago
What if you knew her and found her dead on the ground
How can you run when you know?
(“Ohio” – Neil Young – Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young)
Cutting the Cord
Wikipedia states that “cord-cutters” [are those people who] cancel their subscriptions to multichannel televisionservices available over cable or satellite, drop pay television channels, or reduce the number of hours of subscription TV viewed in response to competition from rival media….
Given this definition, I have become, in the last week, a bona-fide cord-cutter. It’s something I’ve been considering for a long time – perhaps years. My long-time provider for live TV has been Comcast (er, Xfinity) and I can’t remember a time in my life when I haven’t had a set-top box attached to coaxial cable coming out of the wall. Of course, don’t get me wrong, the picture quality, the ease of use, and the X1 voice remote are all extremely attractive features I’ve gotten used to. What I’ve not been able to accept are the ever-increasing monthly bills and the abysmal customer service.
However, I have always found excuses not to change. As you know, change is a bitch.
A couple of days ago, though, I walked into the local Comcast/Xfinity store armed with a file folder of research materials: copies of my bills from the last year-and-a-half; a tally of all the monthly/yearly costs for my streaming services; information about YouTube TV (where I’m signed up for a trial period); and an estimate of projected new costs compared to what I’m currently paying.
It didn’t take long for me to realize, hoever, that none of this stuff was going to be required. The service representative that I talked to didn’t really care; he seemed more than happy to just go ahead and cancel my cable and voice services, no questions asked. Poof! A few dozen key strokes later and he made it happen. All that was required was for me to choose which internet speed I wished to continue. I decided to move down from the Gigabit+ speed to the 800 Mbps option. Of course, this is likely still much more than I really need, but I’ve gotten used to what’s defined as “superfast.”
I also informed him that I was going to order a modem and stop renting that piece of equipment from them very soon. (After my initial investment, I will save an additional $15/month.) Additionally, my new “land-line” (actually VoIP) provider will be Ooma.
As it now stands, for live TV, I am now with YouTube TV. They happen to provide just about any option I think I need for live news and sports. Of course, I knew I could not live without HBO Max (now called simply Max), so I went to their website and signed up for a one-year package. And finally, I remain a customer of Netflix, Hulu, Apple TV+, Amazon Prime, and Paramount+. I am an absolute content junkie. Geesh!
So, in the end, according to contemporary terminology, I’m now a cord-cutter. My modem/router still remains connected via coaxial cable to the wall, of course. But I’m no longer using Xfinity as my cable TV provider and, for right now, YouTube TV seems to be working out just fine. Ask me in a few months for a progress report.
Books & Movies & The Meaning of Life
