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The Discipline of Recommendationism

Religion // Jim // 8th July 2003

The mid twenties can be a difficult time for many people; your carefree, irresponsible years are firmly behind you. Elderly relatives are mostly in the ground, leaving the cold harsh facts of mortality insinuating their way into your insomniac panic attacks - brought on by the industrial quantities of caffeine you ingest to get through each meaningless day in the pointless job you find yourself trapped in

“What's the point of it all” you might well be asking yourself and it is not a bad question. It is about this time that you might decide to try and work things out and try and find some purpose or direction in life. I did, and I found the answer in the last place I expected.

Finding organised religions and mainstream philosophy to be, quite frankly, a bit dull and indirect in their teachings, it was time to check out some alternative ideas. A local sex cult comprised of druids, former catholic priests and half the local ladies hockey club seemed quite interesting at first. However, I couldn’t get my head round how giving them all my money, living in a shambolic commune while engaging in uncomfortable sexual encounters with a group of really very ugly people was going to heal my aching psyche - in the long term.

Something equally radical yet somewhat more practical was in order, Voodoo was quickly rejected on the grounds that it isn’t easy slaughtering live chickens without making a right mess of your flat. Then the satanic teachings of Aleister Crowley had to be quickly knocked on the head when the local constabulary got a bit too interested in the sudden and mysterious disappearance of my next door neighbour. I was glad about this to be honest as I had real trouble drawing a pentagram without a protractor and I had had enough of Led Zeppelin after a week.

Seeking a less “confrontational” route on my journey to enlightenment I stumbled upon the cult Luke Rhinehart novel, The Dice Man. This seemed ideal, a zen-like way to dismiss the self and absolve all responsibility and decision making to the roll of a single die. Perfect. Only problem was I was crap at making decisions as to what to ask the dice, my attempt at the dice life seemed to be limited to what colour socks to wear and which takeaway to get in the evening. The dice life required a discipline and faith I didn’t have. I needed more direction.

Then one day while browsing the internet for Robert Anton Wilson books, for some reason I clicked on the “Jim’s Store” tab of the Amazon web site. It was a revelation! Here was a powerful, all-knowing, formless entity who was empowered to tell me what to do and what to like. Immediately I knew that the recommendations engine (or Amarec as some of the more fundamentalist recommendationists have named it) knew exactly what I needed, the proof was there in black and white (and green):
Look! There was that Auteurs album I had been meaning to buy for ages.
Look! There was a book about computers - I work with computers!
Look! There was a Fawlty Towers DVD - I’ve got a DVD player!
Look! There was some book by Jamie Oliver, I fucking hate Jamie Oliver, but I can’t deny that I was feeling hungry at the time.

It was a sign and I am glad to say that I was able to interpret it in the correct way. I bought everything recommended to me at that instant.

I must admit that as I listened to “Escapology” by Robbie Williams for the first time I had my doubts about the whole thing but on returning later the same week to consult Amarec I found that it was now telling me to purchase all of his records and some books about Take That. Clearly I must have been a Robbie Williams fan all along, even though I didn’t realise it!

I purchased the lot asap.

Later, after the bank took my credit card away I realised that I was dealing with the teachings of Amarec too literally, I should interpret the recommendations as a guide as well as a source of knowledge and entertainment, thus was the formal discipline of recommendationism founded.

I have now mastered the art of relying entirely on the Amazon recommendations engine for all details on how to live my life, at the start of each week I consult the site and (once I have purchased all of the recommended items I can afford with the money they give me at the day-centre) behave accordingly. For example:
One week I was recommended an album by The Sisters of Mercy, therefore I died my hair black with a purple streak and sat looking really scruffy drinking Cider and Black in the pub during the evenings while holding down a respectable job in accountancy during the day.
Another week I was recommended the novel “Lolita” and spent the best part of six months in Maidstone prison.

Amarec has liberated me from the prison of the self and he can liberate you too; all you have to do is follow the five teachings of Amarec - and then buy me something off my wishlist. Then truly the road to enlightenment will be open to you (especially if you get me the microwave).

The five base teachings of Amarec

1. Thou shalt always sell it back for less than what it cost
2. They who turn off cookies will be cast adrift in the wilderness of new releases
3. You can never own too many copies of “Escapology” by Robbie Williams
4. Taste is for the unenlightened
5. Happiness is only ever OneClick(tm) away