#Andy Clark

[silalcarin]

Timestamp 15:38 — "What if they laugh?" "He won't laugh."

In one of the final drafts of the script (PDF link found here), Claire's line was "they won't laugh"; here, she clearly says "he won't laugh."

I personally like that Claire said "he" and not "they." It means she saw that Andy and Allison were interested in each other, or at least that Andy was interested in Allison, and instigated the makeover partially to help the pairing. It gives Claire an actual reason to give Allison the makeover and makes the scene feel more genuine and sincere; in comparison to the completed film, where Claire gives Allison the makeover out of nowhere.

Also, in the aforementioned final draft, while Claire is giving Allison the makeover, Andy asks Brian a few questions about Allison, further establishing what the completed film already showed — that Andy was interested in Allison way before the makeover.

[Yes, people, despite what some of you may think, Andy did show interest in Allison before the makeover, even in the completed film — he tries to get to know her, he reaches out to her and empathizes with her regarding her parents, and he stares at her when she isn't looking.]

I really wish the Andy/Brian dialogue was a part of these deleted/extended scenes.

[https-hunter]

Hiii just wanted to say thank you for the reblog and the kind words! Im really glad you liked it!

The breakfast club has been taking over my mind lately so I was VERY happy for the idea!! I want to write more for tbc but im so bad at ideas sometimes !

Speaking of tbc do you have any headcanons you really like? like maybe your favorite headcanons for each one of the group? (if you want to share! If not that's cool!)

Hi!! Of course, I loved it! I can never get enough of those two :)

I can definitely provide ideas if you ever need them! I’m always sitting on a million fic ideas

Hmm. These are my headcanons if they talked on Monday

- Claire and Allison hang out all the time. Sleepovers, makeovers, movie nights, shopping trips, they’re always together

- Andy and Brian are unexpected besties. They relate to the struggle of controlling parents and actually get along really well!

- Brian and Bender get high under the bleachers sometimes, especially when there’s a big test coming up.

- the group hangs out at Allison’s place a lot. Her parents don’t notice and everyone else’s houses are out, except for Andy’s mom’s. It’s alright, they add some warmth to the otherwise cold house.

- they all visit Bender in detention

[lawendawchvj]

The Breakfast Club (1985).

"The Criminal", "The Princess", "The Brain", "The Athlete", "The Basket Case".

A classic coming-of-age film that delves into the complexities of teenage life and social dynamics.

The film portrays the narrative of five teenagers from diverse high school cliques who are subjected to a Saturday detention overseen by their vice-principal. Each character in the film embodies a specific high school stereotype, the movie challenges these stereotypes by revealing the complexities and vulnerabilities of each character beyond their superficial labels.

[anaxerneas]

We all speak of the mind with little or no hesitation, but we pause when asked for a definition. Dictionaries are of no help. To understand what mind means we must first look up perception, idea, feeling, intention, and many other words we have just examined, and we shall find each of them defined with the help of the others.

Many cognitive psychologists recognise these limitations and dismiss the words we have been examining as the language of "common sense psychology." The mind that has made its comeback is therefore not the mind of Locke or Berkeley or of Wundt or William James. We do not observe it; we infer it. We do not see ourselves processing information, for example. We see the materials that we process and the product, but not the producing. We now treat mental processes like intelligence, personality, or character traits - as things no one ever claims to see through introspection. Whether or not the cognitive revolution has restored mind as the proper subject matter of psychology, it has not restored introspection as the proper way of looking at it. The behaviourists' attack on introspection has been devastating.

Cognitive psychologists have therefore turned to brain science and computer science to confirm their theories. Brain science, they say, will eventually tell us what cognitive processes really are. They will answer, once and for all, the old questions about monism, dualism, and interactionism. By building machines that do what people do, computer science will demonstrate how the mind works.

What is wrong with all this is not what philosophers, psychologists, brain scientists, and computer scientists have found or will find; the error is the direction in which they are looking. No account of what is happening inside the human body, no matter how complete, will explain the origins of human behaviour. What happens inside the body is not a beginning. By looking at how a clock is built, we can explain why it keeps good time, but not why keeping time is important, or how the clock came to be built that way. We must ask the same questions about a person. Why do people do what they do, and why do the bodies that do it have the structures they have? We can trace a small part of human behaviour, and a much larger part of the behaviour of other species, to natural selection and the evolution of the species, but the greater part of human behaviour must be traced to contingencies of reinforcement, especially to the very complex social contingencies we call cultures. Only when we take those histories into account can we explain why people behave as they do.

That position is sometimes characterised as treating a person as a black box and ignoring its contents. Behaviour analysts would study the invention and uses of clocks without asking how clocks are built. But nothing is being ignored. Behaviour analysts leave what is inside the black box to those who have the instruments and methods needed to study it properly. There are two unavoidable gaps in any behavioural account: one between the stimulating action of the environment and the response of the organism, and one between consequences and the resulting change in behaviour. Only brain science can fill those gaps. In doing so it completes the account; it does not give a different account of the same thing. Human behaviour will eventually be explained, because it can only be explained by the cooperative action of ethology, brain science, and behaviour analysis.

The analysis of behaviour need not wait until brain science has done its part. The behavioural facts will not be changed, and they suffice for both a science and a technology. Brain science may discover other kinds of variables affecting behaviour, but it will turn to a behavioural analysis for the clearest account of their effects.

B.F. Skinner, "The Origins of Cognitive Thought"

and related to that second paragraph especially -

...folk psychology does not seek to model computational processes, and its dignity does not depend on there being in-the-head analogues to the propositional attitudes [e.g. believing and desiring]...

Andy Clark, Microcognition: Philosophy, Cognitive Science, and Parallel Distributed Processing

[bbyangst]

The way Andrew's voice changes from confrontational and defensive to careful and soft when asking Allison "So what's wrong?" always gets me.

[sweet-child]

i need 'The Outsiders' or 'The Breakfast Club' fic recommendations, PLEASE! on my knees, begging rn.

[caiusmajor]

Torvann Lokk & Kar-Gatharr -- Iron Warrior & Word Bearer friendship!

Posting this because it's SO unusual for Iron Warriors or Word Bearers to be allowed to have friends in Black Library novels, never mind to be friends with EACH OTHER. These quotes are all from The Gate of Bones, by Andy Clark, which is sadly the only place these two appear together.

Lokk drove by neural linkage. In Legion days the tank had required a crew of three. Now, he alone was sufficient to man it and fire its weapon. The malevolent spirit that dwelled in Draco­kravgi’s systems, a gift from the gods for his devotion, helped with other tasks. The laser destroyer never failed. Its power couplings never needed replacing. Dracokravgi was loyal and fierce. He thanked Kar-Gatharr for that. Lokk’s hand strayed to the metal disc around his neck, another gift, from an earlier era, pierced at the top for a leather thong he’d replaced a thousand times. The disc was worn paper-thin by millennia of handling, the design on it long gone, though Lokk remembered it clearly: a three-headed serpent, the badge of a warrior lodge long disbanded. It remained the symbol of his brotherhood with Kar-Gatharr, and so he had made it the symbol of the Beasts of Steel. Lokk remembered asking Kar-Gatharr about his own medallion, long ago, when the Word Bearer had been assigned to his Grand Battalion to foster bonds between the Legions. Kar-Gatharr had grinned broadly, and covered his medallion with his hand in a mock display of secrecy. ‘I cannot say,’ he had said. Lokk received his invitation to join the lodge the next day. He and Kar-Gatharr had been friends ever since.

Notable also for the implication that the Lodges were more successful in the Iron Warriors than was suggested in Angel Exterminatus -- perhaps in Grand Batallions further away from the Primarch and the descendants of Olympian nobility, the Lodges were more welcome.

More Lokk & Kar-Gatharr behind cut.

‘This is artful destruction,’ Lokk grunted, scanning his tactical read-out.

He had said as much to Kar-Gatharr days before, as they had stood on the walls above the despoiled Saint’s Gate and stared out over the blasted city. They watched the ongoing battle, listened to the crackle of las-fire, the chatter of autoguns, the thumping of bolters and the roars of the warp-born terrors they had unleashed. Lokk smelled brimstone, blood and smoke. Once, that would have raised real passion. He had felt nothing. ‘This is the Despoiler reaching out,’ Kar-Gatharr had said. ‘He is preparing the way for the end. It is the Warmaster, the true Warmaster, readying himself to do what the pretender Horus failed to achieve. And we, war-brother, are instrumental in it.’ ‘Yes,’ said Lokk. ‘Soon it will be finally over, and we will have played our part, for what little that will contribute.’ He spoke not triumphantly, but wearily. He shifted his weight. His right ankle, boot and greave had fused, giving him a lumbering cripple’s walk. Standing for any time was uncomfortable. He had wanted to see Kar-Gatharr, craved contact with the one being he still held any love for, but his mood had soured, and he had the urge to retreat back to Dracokravgi to brood. ‘You are right to be humble,’ said Kar-Gatharr. ‘We are but the tools of the powers. We are blades to be drawn against the Carrion-Emperor as the Dark Gods see fit. Never set yourself above the gods. As these mortals are nothing to us, we are nothing in the great struggle. We are proud weapons, but weapons are all we are.’ ‘Our purpose is at hand,’ said Lokk, and he could not hide the yearning in his voice. ‘Patience, brother. You are touched by dark majesty. You are on the cusp of glory. Think not of death, but of eternity.’ Lokk smiled his crooked smile, felt the sting of lips tearing from the decayed interior of his helm. ‘I think of nothing else,’ he said. Kar-Gatharr was the only one who could see Lokk’s desperation: the need, the mania even, for the Long War to finally be at an end. ‘Stand firm,’ Kar-Gatharr said, ‘and remain steadfast. I know you wish for release, but the end is not at hand. Your reward is.’

More of them:

‘War-brother? War-brother, it is I.’ ‘Kar-Gatharr?’ Lokk said. He shifted himself. His bones hurt with a fever’s cold. ‘Come out, my brother. Let us speak.’ Lokk was in no mood for conversation, yet something made him get up. ‘A moment,’ he grunted. He yanked at his interface cables. A machine bleeped, as if in pain. He pulled again, and felt the spikes break in the sockets in his armour, obliging him to fish out the spines. What he cast out onto the deck was made of gristle. He made his way out of Dracokravgi, and found Kar-Gatharr waiting, helmless and solemn, a few yards behind the tank. Lokk stopped when he saw his friend. ‘You are changed,’ he said. ‘You will be too, soon, my war-brother,’ said Kar-Gatharr. Lokk limped towards the Dark Apostle. He had not changed physically, yet seemed larger somehow. Once, this would have alarmed Lokk, but he had seen far stranger things in the Long War. ‘Then,’ Lokk said, ‘you have your wish.’ ‘My wish has only ever been to serve the gods,’ said Kar-Gatharr. ‘You have done that well,’ said Lokk. He limped past his friend, and went to a stowage bin on the back of Dracokravgi. It was a simple metal box, surprising by its quotidian nature, when one considered what lived within the tank. From inside, Lokk took out a glass bottle protected in a net of twisted cord. ‘Drink?’ he said. Speaking was becoming more difficult for him. Kar-Gatharr nodded. Lokk thrust the bottle at him, and took off his own helm. It was so hard to remove now. The joins kept sealing over, like fresh skin, and the shape of his face made disentangling himself from it awkward. He took the top off, then removed the distorted mask, tossing both onto the top of his tank. Kar-Gatharr had not seen his war-brother’s true visage in some years, and now he looked in wonder upon the blessings the Dark Gods had bestowed. Lokk stood in discomfort as he looked him over, the bestial lines, his jaw heavy and distorted by the suggestion of tusks, the vestigial horns which jutted from his temples. Below them, Lokk’s eyes were amber, his pupils black slits. There was murder in those eyes.

‘Such fine acolytes we are. Both blessed,’ said Kar-Gatharr. Lokk’s twisted mouth smiled. ‘You perhaps. I bear their blessings with discomfort.’ ‘It is a test, brother,’ said Kar-Gatharr. ‘Pass it and know real reward.’ ‘Like you?’ ‘Not like me,’ said Kar-Gatharr. ‘Better.’ Lokk retrieved the bottle and uncorked it. He handed it back to his friend. Kar-Gatharr drank, pulling a face. ‘What is this?’ ‘No weakling’s wine,’ said Lokk, with a real smile now. ‘Olympian slozo, or at least an approximation of it.’ He took back the bottle and drank long, finishing with a gasp. ‘Burns like I remember.’ ‘It tastes like engine lubricant.’ ‘That may be one ingredient,’ Lokk admitted. ‘It is good to see you. To what do I owe this visit?’ ‘Comradeship,’ said Kar-Gatharr softly. Lokk looked again at his friend, knowing immediately why Kar-Gatharr had come. ‘You have come to say farewell. You think you are going to die.’ ‘We all die, war-brother.’ ‘Don’t give me your priest’s riddles!’ Lokk said angrily. The rush of emotion surprised him. ‘When? When did you know?’ ‘The power I hold within me will consume me.’ ‘Then why take it?’ said Lokk. ‘Why now?’ ‘The weapon. Tenebrus. The war. The Adeptus Custodes are here. They will not be bested by mortal means.’ ‘So? There’s nothing but war,’ said Lokk. ‘What makes this one so special you must surrender your life to it?’ ‘Faith,’ said Kar-Gatharr without hesitation. ‘Matters here must go according to the will of the gods. The Warmaster. Abaddon…’ ‘Ach, Abaddon, another vainglorious fool,’ said Lokk. ‘He’s the same as Horus, a liar who has deceived himself.’ ‘Maybe,’ said Kar-Gatharr. ‘But he will triumph. Victory must be won correctly. It must be done with faith. Abaddon does not honour the gods, not as he should, not yet.’ ‘Nor does my primarch,’ said Lokk. ‘Would you have an eternity of rule by the Lord of Iron?’ ‘I would have no eternity under anyone,’ said Lokk. ‘Then why do you go on?’ said Kar-Gatharr. ‘I don’t know,’ said Lokk. He stoppered the bottle and put it away, his thirst forgotten. ‘Mankind was made to worship, that is Lorgar’s creed. If Abaddon takes the Throne of Terra, insisting on his own supremacy, the gods will destroy him, and mankind will endure a living hell.’ ‘Mankind already endures a living hell, Kar-Gatharr,’ said Lokk. ‘Do not pretend any of us are in this for anything but ourselves. If you taught me one thing, it is that Chaos has no mercy. We have been lied to by everyone. All we can do is fight. That is all there is.’ ‘It is not true. Lorgar had a vision,’ said Kar-Gatharr. ‘Mankind living in harmony with the gods, as supplicants, and willing vessels for their power. All the potential the Emperor sought to deny us, and keep for Himself. When you speak as you do, Torvann, you outline the Emperor’s path, not mine. You have known their gifts. You have lived nine millennia, you have seen things of such sublime glory. Could the boy you were have imagined such a thing? We all have that potential. If the strong are allowed to prosper, humanity will rise to glory, but the gods are fickle, and they must be propitiated. It is the duty of my Legion to make Abaddon see this. It is our duty to make the victory the right one.’ Lokk laughed. ‘You’re all deluded. There is nothing but death and suffering, so it has ever been, so it will ever be. You can’t control Abaddon. You can’t control what manner of victory he will have. You can’t reason with the gods. What is this that we fight for? We were dupes under the Emperor’s banner, under Horus’, and still under Abaddon’s, while the gods laugh all the while.’ ‘Yet the gods honour you,’ Kar-Gatharr said stepping forward. ‘And yet you still dedicate your kills to them. Why, if you are so full of doubt?’ ‘Because there is nothing else,’ said Lokk quietly. He looked around his camp. His men sat by fires, their machines silent, hidden by the walls of a roofless building. It could have been any night in his miserably long life.

Some plot stuff cut. Kar-Gatharr agrees to hide Lokk's Iron Warriors from the enemy.

‘Then consider it done, war-brother.’ Lokk smiled sadly. ‘I remember when you first called me that. Before you came, I was thinking of the night you saved me, do you remember it?’ ‘I do,’ said Kar-Gatharr. ‘That night you pulled my body from that wrecked tank, my brothers slaughtered all around me. I thought I was going to die.’ ‘I knew you were not, though it took me hours to find you.’ ‘Yes,’ said Lokk. ‘You have told me a thousand times you went there because the gods sent you.’ Lokk looked up into his friend’s eyes. They were a solid black now, like those of the Lord of Ravens. There was no escaping what they were – the Space Marines, the primarchs, the powers of the warp – he thought. They were all parts of the same cosmic jest. ‘Is that really true?’ ‘The evidence speaks for itself,’ said Kar-Gatharr. ‘You live.’ ‘No, brother, I mean it, did the gods really send you?’ Kar-Gatharr paused, then he said softly, ‘They aided me, but only because I asked them to.’ They held each other’s eyes a long time, until Lokk broke the silence with a small laugh. ‘There is a primarch coming here. Can you imagine it, after so long?’ ‘It has been ordained. This is the last war.’ The smile faded from Lokk’s deformed lips. ‘You can never understand how much I pray that is true, brother,’ Lokk said. He looked away again. ‘This power you have taken. I know you, Kar-Gatharr. You seek to face things you should not. You will fight the corpse-lord’s lackeys. You should leave. Let us fight again, on other worlds.’ ‘It is my fate,’ said Kar-Gatharr. ‘My story ends here, but do not mourn me, for I go on to greater glory. Hold true to the faith I have given you, Torvann Lokk, and you will know power untold of.’ ‘Another possibility?’ ‘A certainty.’ Kar-Gatharr embraced his friend. ‘Fight well, Torvann. This shall be our last meeting. In honour of our friendship, you shall have your shroud of shadow.’

[boardgametoday]

Games Workshop Pre-Order Preview: The Cities of Sigmar arrive along with Dawnbringers Book III and more!

Games Workshop Pre-Order Preview: The Cities of Sigmar arrive along with Dawnbringers Book III and more! #AgeofSigmar #warhammer

After the initial box set release, Warhammer: Age of Sigmar‘s Cities of Sigmar is getting a full, proper release. It’s a big week for Age of Sigmar with a lot of releases. Check out everything you’ll be able to order soon! Battletome: Cities of Sigmar provides all the rules, background, and more you need to muster your force. It covers the history of Cities of Sigmar, features a detailed…

[maaarine]

Andy Clark:

"When you think about perception as being structured by prediction, perception of our own body is structured exactly in the same way.

So the way my body feels, my pain, my tingles, they're all just percepts that are constructed in exactly the same way as all the other percepts.

They're constructed by bringing predictions, most of them unconscious, together with sensory information, in a way that's balanced by precision weighting.

For instance, I quite often get phantom phone vibrations, where I feel my phone going off in my trousers, and actually it isn't.

What seems to be going on there is that overactive expectations are kind of swamping bits of otherwise innocent sensory information.

So under the strong expectation that my phone might ring, small fluctuations in my bodily state can be treated as good evidence of an incoming call, so I sense a buzzing.

This is predictive processing 101: if your expectations are strong enough, then that's how you're going to experience the world. (…)

Something like this seems to be going on in different degrees in chronic pains.

In nearly all cases of chronic pain, what seems to have gone wrong is in the pain signaling system.

The bodily problem is no longer sufficient to account for the pain, the pain is just persisting.

A sort of over-weighted expectation of pain can become ingrained is that kind of way.

So you move really quickly into stuff that looks much more like psychiatric issues.

If you think about that balance enacted in other domains, imagine that you constantly over-weigh the incoming sensory evidence.

Now ask yourself what your life might be like.

Under the predictive processing framework, you can see that that could easily be one aspect of autism spectrum condition: sensory information is over-weighted, at least by neurotypical standards.

So that makes it hard to spot certain kinds of patterns in noisy environments.

Subtle patterns might involve how other people are feeling right here, right now.

The primary issue is an enhanced sensory world. They're seeing the world brighter than we are, if you like.

What's the right balance between sensory information and expectation? There's no good answer.

It's easy to imagine worlds where having the balance one way is better, other worlds where having the balance another way is better.

If you happen to be in a world structured by people who have their balance one way, then you're inhabiting an artificial world where your balance might not be useful, or might be problematic.

There are systematic attempts to look at different psychiatric ways of being, like having PTSD for example, that try to make sense of them by thinking about these different checks and balances in a predictive system.

Maybe if that works out, we'll end up with a kind of taxonomy of different ways of experiencing our world, where we can slot things in according to the level of precision weighting.

That would certainly be a step on the road to having the causal picture that might enable one day better intervention."

Source: Converging Dialogues: #224 - Brains As Prediction Machines: A Dialogue with Andy Clark

[teknomagic]

Incorrect quotes from the Alpha legion

"The fuck are those"

"Oh I think those are marines primaris, they're new"

"And you knew? When were you planning to tell us?"

"¯\_(ツ)_/¯"

"shigh"

[brusiocostante]

BE BOP DELUXE - LIFE IN THE AIR AGE

[https-hunter]

Andy: this is bad, this is really bad!

Brian: dude, what is it?

Andy: I kissed Allison

Brian: woah. I owe Claire so much money

[tfc2211]

Andy Clarke - Communications

Composed By – Andy Clarke  

[usunezukoinezu]

''According to the new theory (called “predictive processing”), reality as we experience it is built from our own predictions. ... Predictive processing speaks to one of the most challenging questions in science and philosophy—the nature of the relationship between our minds and reality. ... Contrary to the standard belief that our senses are a kind of passive window onto the world, what is emerging is a picture of an ever-active brain that is always striving to predict what the world might currently have to offer. Those predictions then structure and shape the whole of human experience, from the way we interpret a person’s facial expression, to our feelings of pain, to our plans for an outing to the cinema.''

- Andy Clark, The Experience Machine

[spilladabalia]

David Bowie - Ashes To Ashes

[kasperl-ruprecht]

Bradley: Second to None (1982 FMC Corp. Promo)