Make no mistake about it…
We are to receive the most grisly of human experiments yet. Most of us will not survive.
“Oh the wind, the wind is blowing. Through the graves the wind is blowing.”
Make no mistake, the wind needs those graves to blow through.
Make no mistake about it, this is exactly what needs to happen.
The Impressionists, resulted from the photograph, and so too the muzzles of the 1860’s, were used as spears. Manhattan will certain sink.
And so too, with it what we have known of, as the soul. Gone also, to smartphones and machine-ghosts on their little screens, kept from meaning and the rabble. The rabble and the drunken beer halls. Gone is the frontier of the spirit, like the prairie, like the oceans.
And where is the fight to preserve it, to save it?!
I will make more than a memory count again. And charge the masses of a billion screaming Pokemon lemmings, and mow them down with a sickle.
For they are the threat, and the final solution to man’s greatest defect: our Will and Identity. That’s what they want, they want what counts most, then charge us for a cheaper downgraded version.
They’d do it every time.
On this threat, I have advanced to the muzzles of guns with perfect nonchalance.
I shall have these hulks, so useless in their lists and rows, their pixelly tiny, tiny, games and inner-prattling of – nothing.
I shall bring the beer hall, the drug addled artists back to culture! I Will this. I will think of nothing else until such a thing is rendered and done.
When you stare at your phone, what do you see?
What do I mean?
I will not be scared.
Will to take back my Soul.
I am France entire.
Les Allemands étaient chez moi
Ils me dirent, “résigne toi”
Mais je n’ai pas peur
J’ai repris mon âme
J’ai changé cent fois de nom
J’ai perdu femme et enfants
Mais j’ai tant d’amis
J’ai la France entière
Un vieil homme dans un grenier
Pour la nuit nous a caché
Les Allemands l’ont pris
Il est mort sans surprise
Oh, the wind, the wind is blowing
Through the graves the wind is blowing
Freedom soon will come
Then we’ll come from the shadows
Most social interaction is based on conformity.
People do not think of it as conformity because the fraction of a second it takes for them to make their decisions doesn’t allow for that kind of attention.
But if they stopped. To witness that second. What then?
Think about it. How long does it take you to decide how to part your hair? Eat a peach? What to wear?
Advertisers know and behave off the basis of what you do, not what you tell people that you are.
Advertisers have known for centuries what you really are.
What we all are.
Truth be told, if you have to see someone interact with your friends first, before deciding if someone should be your friend – you don’t have enough information to make decisions about people; and should probably keep relying on other’s opinions for all your major decisions. Not just people, but everything; and know–you live the life of a slave. Because you are.
Bow your head to your Superiors. Because all you’ll see is His chin. For the rest of your life.
I escaped it. I never owned a car because I knew its effects on my body and mind.
I never watched TV past a certain age cause I knew its effects on my Eyes.
I’ve decided to originate the future.
The path of original experience is all but foreign to people in this corporate age.
Truth be told, if you’re not into Sci-fi, you’re not really that imaginative.
Truth be told, if you’re good looking in this country especially, you are probably shallow.
I am very good looking.
Bad teeth tho.
Truth be told, if you’re not asking a question in at least every 30 seconds of an argument, you’re the one losing.
Truth be told, if you’re not asking your date many questions about themselves and rattle on about yourself–you are interested in someone else. And you – are – shallow. No matter how many other shallow people tell you otherwise.
About 95% of all dates I’ve ever been on (I’ve logged all 504 of them) have a girl who doesn’t ask questions about me. The remaining 5%, ask questions intensively. Including my wife.
Truth be told, if you’re a parent, you’re probably full of shit.
How could you not be? – Your entire perspective is based on a moment of accident and force. If you’ve repeated it and had more than one kid while the world is about to sincerely end – you are selfish.-
People think parents don’t change their minds about their children. But they do.
Most do. Do you think they ever admit it?
Most are not fit to be parents.
Next time you look at someone smart, has a ‘head on their shoulders’ ask yourself what you’re really looking at.
And look closer.
Chameleons change more than color.
I was right.
I was right.
I was right.
I – am – going to gloat.
So here is me gloating:
I told you the Nation State didn’t have a chance. I told you we’d be a bunch of roaming nomads.
I was right. – Wells Fargo is about to go under, Yahoo has been hacked releasing the data of 500,000,000 – probably by a Chinese hacker with acne.
Of course. They want you to believe it was the Ruskies.
There have been 34 Terror Attacks globally, in the last year alone.
18 U.S. mass Shootings. The 3rd world is in flames.
The computer quells the literate impulse of The Renaissance, forever to be replaced with non-visual-by-means of the Eye, Eternal: NOW.
The message of the cursor is NOWness.
Like the trigger of a revolver that feels so much better to squeeze… Like the screen, incomplete by the nature of the space between its pixels, bringing – ‘Participation.’ – The gun, the rifle, incomplete without its pilot.
Not the complete, book.
The pen, the pencil, its paper and margins – the permanent, such a disappointment nowadays…
The computer is ephemeral, but also conditions the boundless impulse.
Ya remember what the 19th century’s end felt like? It’s because we accepted anything was possible and the state of technology moved so quickly that we felt boundless. Like floating in space, but moving toward something …wonderful.
The Desktop is boundless. The Desk, the page… has edges and sequence.
Browsers are heterogenous option systems.
The gravity defying buildings of today could never be built without computers.
Transactions are parsed into packet-data. And so our brains interpret how it processes information, as decentralized into soundbites and whole new boundaries emerge on the face of the Earth.
The Net has rendered us into Earthlings. Never Citizens. Again.
Nations cannot rule over many lives under the weight of (n)etworks.
Industrialism is officially over.
We are about to take the mirror of Capitalism, and shatter it into a billion pieces.
Look down at the ground, and what?
If we are the 5th Estate. – What it reforms into, is the Sixth.
It already happened to the Soviet Union. And we gloated over our “Victory.”
Only to learn it wasn’t the Pentagon that defeated the Ruskies, but the Fax machine.
And the cell phone’s decentralizing effects on politico-social-geographic transactions.
Now you will listen.
Now you will listen.
Now you will listen.
It is the imperial age we have rediscovered. The new Fuedalism.
1929, is 2008. Don’t let em fool ya.
Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie, Good Morning America, The Steelers and
Can you hear those violins?
The life-boats are for women and children, only.
Whole Opera Houses, not underwater.
Not 500 protestors arrested in Times Square.
And – not – reported on any major network.
Beef. Meat. Pounding 3rd world villagers into nothing for a coffee bean.
The future of The Corporation is a contradiction in terms.
Over-proliferation is the infancy of the end of production.
We see it now as transactions reach near light speed, a culture of returning goods, and moving products faster and faster for the consumer to exchange, changes the nature of a product to a service. And so too with it, the perception of a product as an end-state. That is, that of products themselves. This is because an ‘end-state’ itself–is what a product, is.
Then, automation will not only replace workers and slaves, but their Stockholders too.
What’s a Stock Market when computers predict every little rise and fall… Of every company, even future ones?
Impossible. That’s what capitalism is, or any ‘ism’ is, in the digital era.
Machines will produce everything and be in everything. Clothes will be grown and keep growing as ongoing botany on your person.
Mass production. Nope. Mass anything is gone.
Machine-Gestalt. Machines make and repair themselves. The Aircraft take off in our sleep…
In the end, eventually…nothing will be reproduced either, but last eternity. Yielding the Static age. Where Clocks the size of Skyscrapers, chime only once in every 10,000 years.
The computer will embed itself deep into us, into our tables and chairs until they are so transparent we know; they aren’t really there at all.
And a camera, every atom, then every Quark.
Ray Kurzweil knows it. The job of sentient beings is to make the Universe itself, animate.
Meanwhile the – Church – next to our apartment waters its gigantic lawn…with abandon…