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Welcome to Volume 6 of The Marocharim Experiment. This blog is authored and maintained by Marocharim, the self-professed antichrist of new media.



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Marocharim is a 21-year-old college senior from the University of the Philippines Baguio, majoring in Social Anthropology and has a minor in Political Science. He lives with his parents, his brother and his sister in Baguio City - having been born and raised there all his life. He is the author of three book-versions of The Marocharim Experiment.

Most of his time is spent at school, where he can be found in the UP Baguio Library reading or scribbling notes, and sometimes hanging out with his friends or by himself in the kiosks, or the main lobby. During his spare time, he continues writing. When not in school he hangs out with his friends, or takes long walks around Baguio City to, as he puts it, "get lost."

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The Marocharim Experiment Volume I: The Trial of Another Mind, Subject to Disclosure is Available Now

The Marocharim Experiment Volume II: The Nevermind Chronicles is Available Now

The Marocharim Experiment Volume III: The Sentence Construction of Reality is Available Now

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November 23, 2007
You Can't See Me!

< entertainment >

   It poses a philosophical question: if a tree falls down a forest and no one hears it, did it fall?  Where is the limit of Cartesian doubt?  If you hit a billard ball with the cue ball, is it only incidental that the ball moves in a certain way?  Can you interact with someone you can't see?

   I think that McCoy Fundales of "Pinoy Big Brother: Celebrity Edition 2" is just another victim of Panopticism, of cabin-fever.  Such behavior is manifested in the extreme situation of the 1971 Zimbardo Experiment, and also in the 2001 movie Das Experiment.  Is it McCoy's overbearing pride that led to his voluntary exit?  I don't know, but the general neurosis - fine, psychosis - of the public is that we're all starting to believe that "Kuya" is real.

   In the interest of public service, I'd be happy to share my antipsychotic medication with anyone - and I mean anyone - who believes that Big Brother is real.  They call me "mad" for hallucinating: I mean, isn't Kuya a mere hallucination?  Isn't he an imperceptible, irrational voice that permeates our consciousness and makes us do all sorts of things we wouldn't otherwise do in lucidity?  They say that schizophrenia affects 1 out of every 100 people: welcome to the freaking club, guys.

   "Collective madness" is very much the specter of Michel Foucault.  We're all driven mad by this simulacrum called the television set: a fetishism with Annie's panties in Zaido, that we're all more moronic than Grade Five kids, and now Big Brother is real.  He's a freaking voice, goddammit, a hallucination brought about by our collective impulse to get freaking noticed.

   Yup, we are all truly insane: we have all reached the deep end of the pool head-first in believing that this interaction between a voice and the Housemates is real.  And so they mock us for having a problem with our en-soi and our pro-soi, whatever that means.  Well, I take consolation in the fact that there is no hope for a cure in idiocy, especially for a nation that makes a national issue out of a reality show.

   Aristophanes sums it up best: "Youth ages, immaturity is outgrown, ignorance can be educated and drunkenness sobered, but stupid lasts forever."


Posted at Friday, November 23, 2007 by marocharim

 

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