As you, each one of you, should very well know, this server farm madness has transmogrified human utterance into world-burning spewage – and it has made people mean and unfree. Let’s say you want to say something – any damn thing that comes into your universal-minded brain – and you type it up and let if fly into the vacuous ether. Way to go, Einstein – now you’re setting those cooling fans whirring at those gigantic server farms, and perhaps getting a reaction or two. And the supersystem will have another victim imagining him- or her-self the agent of change, the expression of the zeitgeist itself. Yet you’ll be met with fake human contact, virtual pats on the back,
while the air over New Delhi gets worse
while the US Congress turns into more of a clown freakshow of buncombe
while the halls of corporate predation and classroom subservience get even more fattened.
Randy Malamud, a professor of something called English Literature, whatever that could be, has penned an essay on how this is “The End of the World as We Know It,” essentially validating the nihilism that has been the metier, the consciousness, the life project, of yours truly, so you heard it hear first – I told ya’ll. You didn’t much want to listen, I get it, but I sure as hell told ya’ll. To be so honored, so feted, by having my contrariness exposed as the new reigning paradigm, is what brings this little outpost back up to speed. We must fight, together, to expose the charlatans and the gurus, the autologic anti-fun brigade of the self-infatuated left and doomster savants, the heedless would-be moral advisors to us all.
There could be ,ore