Rob Reid > Quotes

“O’Sama.”
― Rob Reid, Year Zero

“On a scale of Burning Man to North Korea, how free are you tonight?”).”
― Rob Reid, After On: A Novel of Silicon Valley

“The passage of time makes wizards of us all.”
― Rob Reid, After On: A Novel of Silicon Valley

“And so, October 13, 1977; 8:29 p.m. EST became the dawning moment of Year Zero to the rest of the universe.”
― Rob Reid, Year Zero

“Now, I’ve never heard a rabid hyena shriek from rectal acid burns. But I’ll bet that sounds a lot like Mllsh-mllsh introducing a guest.”
― Rob Reid, Year Zero

“self-defense—since any society that’s violent and stupid enough to self-destruct on H-bombs might easily destroy the entire universe if it survives long enough to invent something with real firepower.”
― Rob Reid, Year Zero

“poster of the Yalta Conference—Yalta!—in his bedroom, the words “NEVER FORGET” emblazoned beneath Churchill, Roosevelt, and Stalin in Polish, Latvian, Czech, Albanian, and all those other ex-commie tongues.”
― Rob Reid, After On: A Novel of Silicon Valley

“Which means humans are a lot stupider than maybe they could be. Which explains Republicans.”
― Rob Reid, After On: A Novel of Silicon Valley

“music licensing is an arcane thicket of ambiguity, overlapping jurisdictions, and litigation. This”
― Rob Reid, Year Zero

“Some punk scenes are so hostile to mainstream norms that everyone ends up dressed and coiffed identically in the name of nonconformity”
― Rob Reid, After On: A Novel of Silicon Valley

“Fun!!” Phluttr squeals from the WingMan screen. “I could definitely get into that! Oooh, hashtag CantWait!”
― Rob Reid, After On: A Novel of Silicon Valley

“fremesis.”
― Rob Reid, After On: A Novel of Silicon Valley

“amazing she can keep up with everything! And it actually isn’t “speed intelligence” enabling this. Yes, she’s got that in spades—but this hyperparallel tracking is a completely different trick. And she has no idea how she does it! Which may seem to indicate lousy self-awareness. But if you know exactly how you’re able to do simple addition, perceive colors, or even remember your own name, you’re way ahead of the entire field of neuroscience, and multiple Nobel Prizes lie in your dazzling future.”
― Rob Reid, After On: A Novel of Silicon Valley

“A scouting craft soon entered our solar system. It detected several broadcast signals, and routed the strongest one (WABC-TV in New York) to a distant team of anthropologists—who then found themselves watching a first-run episode of the hit sitcom Welcome Back, Kotter (the one in which Arnold Horshack joins a zany youth cult). Before I get into what happened next, I should mention that music is the most cherished of the forty so-called Noble Arts that Refined beings revere and dedicate their lives to. It is indeed viewed as being many times Nobler than the other thirty-nine Arts combined. And remember—their music sucks. The first alien Kotter watchers initially doubted that we had music at all, because everything about the show screamed that we were cultural and aesthetic dunderheads. Primitive sight gags made them groan. Sloppy editing made them chuckle. Wardrobe choices practically made them wretch. And then, it happened. The show ended. The credits rolled, and the theme music began. And suddenly, the brainless brutes that they’d been pitying were beaming out the greatest creative achievement that the wider universe had ever witnessed. Welcome back, Welcome back, Welcome back.”
― Rob Reid, Year Zero

“Because we need to enlist the greatest copyright attorney on Earth. If not … the universe.”
― Rob Reid, Year Zero

“He’s had some surprising successes (e.g., Amish vs. Aliens—a maddeningly addictive Facebook game). He’s had some awful flops (e.g., Forever 29—a store for older women who liked to dress like trashy youngsters, and lie about their age). And”
― Rob Reid, Year Zero

“I have now scoured your Internet, and have identified several ersatz concierges that were created by your own society, and are in current and active use throughout it. I strongly suggest that you allow me to import and implement one of them.” I caught Manda’s eye. She shrugged. “Sure,” I said. “Earth’s most popular ersatz concierge has had hundreds of millions of users—although its usage has declined rather dramatically in recent years. Shall we try that one?” I really, really, really should have asked why the thing was shedding users. Instead I shrugged and said, “Why not?” The dazzling, octodimensional projection instantly transformed into a flat rendering of a paperclip with googly eyes. “That’s an ersatz concierge?” Manda whispered after a shocked silence. “Dear God …” As she said this, the paperclip’s eyes darted cunningly from side to side. Then a cartoon bubble appeared above its head reading, “It looks like you’re writing a letter. Would you like help?” It was Clippy—the despised emcee of Microsoft Office. I knew him well. Because while he had allegedly retired long ago, my firm—like so many others—had clung to the Clippy-infested Windows XP operating system for years beyond its expiration date, staving off the expense and trauma of a Windows upgrade. That process had finally started eighteen months back. But copyright associates are low in the priority queue—and I had been slated to get upgraded “next month” for as long as I could remember. “Okay, go back,” I said. Clippy stared at me impassively. “Stop it. Cut it out. Go back. Use the other interface. Use the gem thing.” As I said this, Clippy’s eyes started darting again as he scribbled on a notepad with an animated pencil. Another cartoon bubble appeared. “It looks like you’re making a list. Should I format it?” I fell into an appalled silence. Then Manda gave it a shot. “We do not want to use this ersatz concierge,” she enunciated clearly. “Please return us to the previous one.” Clippy gazed back with bovine incomprehension. We went on to try every command, plea, and threat that we could think of. But we couldn’t get back to the prior concierge. Luckily, the stereopticon’s projector mode was still working fine (“If you download Windows Media Player, I’m throwing you under a bus,” Manda warned it).”
― Rob Reid, Year Zero

“No, we haven’t stopped the spread of pirated music or movies online, nor have we slowed it even slightly. But we do get paid pornographically vast sums for trying our very best.”
― Rob Reid, Year Zero

“If so, sorry if that sounded a bit mean. But we’re better off without whoever just stomped off. Those people offend easily and are always whining about how they feel “unsafe,” or undercherished if their every clumsy kick, catch, and volley isn’t commemorated with trophies.”
― Rob Reid, After On: A Novel of Silicon Valley

“Trust me on this one. Nothing works better in a story line than infidelity and female bisexuality. It’s an iron law of physics.”
― Rob Reid, Year Zero

“It makes perfect sense,” Bill Gates said. “I mean, seriously. Now that you think about it, could Windows really be anything but an alien conspiracy?”
― Rob Reid, Year Zero

“Proving once again that dumbshits with flashlights can look like gods to geniuses, if the geniuses are from the technological past,”
― Rob Reid, Year Zero

“An “emergent” AI is one that spontaneously arises after the local server farm plugs in one transistor too many.”
― Rob Reid, After On: A Novel of Silicon Valley

“You know New Zealand doesn’t count. It’s like Canada. But to Australia.”
― Rob Reid, Year Zero

“I submit that an emergent AI that’s smart enough to understand its place in our world would find it terrifying. Terminator fans would want to shut it off. Governments and criminals would want to make it do odious things. Hackers would want to tinker with its mind, and telemarketers would want to sell it shit.”
― Rob Reid, After On: A Novel of Silicon Valley

“It all starts with the fact that thinking is expensive from the standpoint of natural selection,” Mitchell continues. “The brain consumes 20 percent of the calories that humans eat. And while intelligence enabled humanity’s survival, our ancestors were in a constant race against starvation, too. So their brains only got so big.” Pugwash gets it. “Being smarter gets you more to eat but only up to a point,” he says. “Then there’s diminishing returns.” Mitchell nods. “And if human brains devoured double the calories, grandma and grandpa wouldn’t have found twice the nuts and berries. So our ancestors’ brains grew until they hit a certain equilibrium.” “Which means humans are a lot stupider than maybe they could be. Which explains Republicans.”
― Rob Reid, After On: A Novel of Silicon Valley

“Nick,” Judy said. “Just like blacks can use the N-word with impunity, and queers can use the F-word, and orientals can use the A-word, Mitzi and I are within the bounds of decorum when we joke about other women being sluts. But as a man in a phallocentric society, you cross a bright, red line when you do that—particularly in a professional setting. Is that clear?”
― Rob Reid, Year Zero

“Some campuses are so devoted to tolerance and diversity that no one dares to voice thoughts that clash with the narrow ultraorthodoxy that this devotion dictates”
― Rob Reid, After On: A Novel of Silicon Valley

“And if those parallel universes don’t exist, someone needs to explain why and how our lone universe often behaves as if they do.”
― Rob Reid, After On: A Novel of Silicon Valley

“was as if hyperintelligent counterparts of Frank Gehry, Alex Calder, Dr. Seuss, and Martha Graham had gotten together, dropped a load of acid, and hit the drafting boards.”
― Rob Reid, Year Zero