Armed cattlemen gather to wrangle up
sheep-like capital resource
Our generation is doomed to the cooperation of all distributors of every major known resource in a valiant effort to turn a buck on the entire human race at each opportunity, degenerating us with PR incentives into an unquestioning, unthinking, digitally satisfied, technologically gratified, self-tending human plantation. If things continue at the pace iPhones and on-demand cable have set out, then we will not evolve, but devolve, the opposable thumb becoming civilization’s fiercest natural enemy.
The total output and sheer growth in numbers of cell phone towers will finally generate a large enough volume of short radio waves through polluted air to double the rate of all conditional cancers so as to make yet more money off the same resource, selling vital medications until the usefulness of a particular hominid’s living insides is so rotted, drugged up and decomposed that only local funeral homes can pick off the last few thousand dollars left in his or her insurance fund. One final score for the cash-vultures willing to carve up your corpse and who don’t mind breathing in a little formaldehyde.
As the Indians took and used all parts of the buffalo but the brain, which they used against the animal’s configurable habits to control it into the killzone, so too does the invisible hand of our unseen master from the front porch of his far-off third-world plantation.
Gaia is great because it is full of people who just can’t seem to get a grip on real life at all. With all its fantasy role-playing, cliquishness, inside jokes, and the unending affection of total strangers, it is a welcome hideout for the socially awkward to escape to. It’s also a place, however, that some must inevitably escape from.
Gaia has its own economy, its own government, its own society, subcultures, and religion. It has all the inclinations of our modern-day, real-life architecture, but it exists entirely within a digital computer world in which everyone is rewarded for their contributions and participation. While this appeals to the same gear of human nature which likes videogames and play-until-you-win reward systems, some people replace real-life interaction with this alternative reality in which everyone can be a winner all the time. And because this is the new reality that replaced the old one, in which we used to have to be there for our friends and communicate with them and be good to them, help them out with their issues, and so on, its lack of social challenge perverts these users’ concept of what meaningful social interaction is, because there is no real basis for friendship anymore. You can now make friends by looking at their profile, making a comment about it, and then sending a friend request. This is easy to do and anybody can have thousands of digital friends and still speak to just a couple of people every day. So then social interactions start to mutate, and we begin replacing one emotion with another. Because a friend’s enthusiastic laughter no longer accompanies every interaction, we begin replacing one genuine emotion – happiness – with others: attachment, intimacy, joy from acceptance, and from sharing secrets or an experience unique to this kind of existence.
Just today I discovered two people playing out this weird mommy/daughter role-play fantasy routine where the daughter keeps asking mommy if she loves her enough, and taking issue with the fact that she is never there.
thx i just fekt out because u where never on and u where on when i was not V_V but now its ok ^_^
^in response to the following:
OK…I just want you to know that NO MATTER WHAT I am your friend/mom! ^_^ So I need to tell you that this weekend I won’t be on because I am going to my fiancee’s mom’s house and she doesn’t have interwebz…. crying BUT I will get on asap! ^_^ How are you doing??
The posts are being deleted every day or two, probably because the daughter doesn’t want the outside world to see what she has been doing with her internet time, especially not real mommy and daddy.
You see, this is just the hilarious tip of the iceberg. Between exaggerated realities like the example you see here, and the kid who posts in the non fiction arena about his dad beating him and his sister with a thirty foot extension cord, you have a bell curve of people who talk about goths, and how they aren’t goths, “emos”, their avatars, vampires, people who are vampires, people who love vampires, and people who wish they were vampires so they make vampire avatars.
You will find people who have absolutely no bearing on the art community, but post as feverishly as though there was a little publisher standing behind them, yelling, “Churn out more material! The kiln of the entire artistic community simply will not fire without your input! We need more shit faster!” And they don’t care that shitting out some half-assed blurry snapshot of their cat isn’t considered art, because to them, it IS art just so long as they have some bullshit reason to contrive and justify its submission to the corporate-owned art community they wish to be a part of.
As you have already figured out for yourselves, this is a website by adults, for kids. It purports to support creativity and self-development by selling fake, digital garments and accessories, backed by MTV/Viacom finance and style-marketing keywords, which can be bought with the fictitious gold either purchased with a parent’s credit-card or “earned” through the submission (spamming) of a picture of one’s eyeball, or a drawing of their own avatars, or copying-and-pasting Wikipedia entries (a known source of bullshit). Like real-life rap music and Britney Spears from the year 2000, people are now digitizing an existence in which they make art for Pepsi commercials and help to propagate the style and standard set by the “manufacturer of cool” where ten-year-old styles and attitudes that, in the circles that once pioneered them, stagnated within months of their inceptions but carry on through marketing, online advertising and PR. Subversive cultural dynamics submitted by the undercover hired geeks of Viacom keep the tensions alive and convince children that signing their identities away to a multinational corporation is how to rebel against mom and dad, and their vicious ADD medications. Paid strangers keep this shit alive, not regular people. MTV’s future and their ability to control ours depends on it.
We will see you next Friday when local media mogul Billy B will present his continuing investigation into the world’s most unprecedented cheapening of everyday reality. He’s looking into the bastardization of artistic standards and practices in their entirety as part of his investigation into the seedy microcosm mocking our very existence in all its capacity to do so by using us against our nonintellectual selves. We’ll report to you next week from inside the hellish introspective reality of Gaia Online.
This is all we are, in a nutshell, and all we’ll ever be. Tune out, jack in.
Our right to privacy extends only as far as our ability to protect it since technological advancement and the government have joined hands against us. The right to privacy will be as void for humanity as the right to a fair trial was to the Guantanamo Bay detainees. We’re basically doomed to an existence carried out under the filtration of the all-seeing eyes behind the various agencies every ISP node is fed into via the NSA supercomputer. All information is monitored, all the time, regardless of how you choose to protect your ‘physical data’. This is not just possible. It is more than probable, considering the unsupervised structure of our the internet everyone knows and understands (or doesn’t understand) today. No one escapes it…
Now introducing, from ElfWax Research & Labratories, the Modern-Day Information Doomwave SURFIN’ SET!
Our set includes:
- -1 supersurfin’ keyboard that uses lasers instead of keys. Now you can surf the net like the 1337 hack proz0r5 do – with an unwarranted sense of entitlement. Act as though you’re experienced by dealing with something sensitive like key information by using equipment which can’t be fingerprinted. Catch the wave AND get away with it!*
- -A Hand-Held Hate Speaker with a backlit clock. This 4-inch radio is armed with 400+ hours of recorded religious lecture by various extremist groups and terrorits. Also, hear the Beach Boys as you’ve never heard them before!
- -1 vacuum-packed hard drive containing a super computer virus that actually turns your computer’s insides into liquid shit. Using TNTech brand research and advancements in pyrotechnics technology, you can ensure that all data within a 24-block radius is destroyed permanently with a high-profile electromagnetic pulse emitted by forcing a power surge through your home’s own electrical system.**
- -A single-use flash-drive bullet which can be safely (but assertively) put to your throat and discharged using a GUI (graphical user interface) to send a digital signal to the USB drive, which plunges the hot metal deep into your brain stem. When uncle sam is listening to your muffled cries through your LAN connection AND from outside the door to your back porch, let them know you just went out in style, the American way!***
*You will not get away with it
**subsequent chemotherapy bills are the sole responsibility of the consumer, but it doesn’t matter anyway because your ass belongs to Uncle Sam (oh shit they control the after-life, too!) now get down on your knees and pray for the Sun God to blow up the Sun.
***All of our bullets are made in China and may not contain actual lead or any other hard material, and may dissolve in humidity, becoming a mild toxin poisonous to infants.
A Christian once asked me what my fundamental source for ultimate truth was. The answer might be unsatisfying, but it should be there with a little explanation. In logic, truth is defined as that which can be proven not false in every case. This applies well enough in mathematics and computer programming, but how about for reality? The problem with truth is that every case can never be accounted for. Quantum physics specifically denies it.
Consider a particle in your body, and all the aspects of it. It has among other properties energy and location. Upon measuring this particle’s location, accuracy is lost in measuring its energy. This is the uncertainty principle, and it is an observable phenomenon that Einstein could not disprove. For some reason, this lack of truth is built into the very nature of the universe. I could measure the energy of that same particle, but if I wanted to know the location, I would again lose accuracy. If I wanted to know both the momentum and the location of a particle the best I’d be able to do is estimate. I would still be left with a version of the truth based on two separate measurements that have a mutually exclusive precision. So I’m left with a measurable amount of precision, but not the truth.
So, am I saying that truth doesn’t exist? This is aesthetically painful to the human mind, but it is the strongest possibility. Surely a particle has a location, and a certain momentum, but I won’t be able to figure that out because of an aspect of the universe that is not currently understood. So what is my foundation of ultimate truth, if I cannot know the truth of a solitary particle?
This is a universe of measurable precision. When the human mind decides to believe in truth, there’s an amount of error that cannot be escaped. Truth absolutely must exist, and it may be glimpsed by humanity, but it is impossible to see from all sides without distortion.
I started with “jerk off into a cup” – a natural launching point.
Holy dicks, what fucking day is it? Is it time for another? Yes it is.
I spent the day dealing with some very friendly people about a very unfriendly bill that has been sent to collections by way of some unpaid tuition at my money-grubbing University. Those bastards think they’re going to get $2,000 out of me, well they’ve got another thing coming. I’ll give them at least $12,000 more by the time I’m done with them! Those bastards will be swimming so deep in my hard-earned cash they won’t know what hit ‘em. They’ll drown in US currency. They’ll have to buy up some more ghetto just to make room for the new cash I want to give them for a degree next year.
That’s where I’m at now – it’s time to buy my degree. I’ve worked at papers and written and photographed and traveled and interviewed and even kissed Jane Fonda’s ass, as every reporter does at some time, or must do on their deathbed, lest they enter the gates of Heaven unscathed by a tired old clash of grandfatherly ideals. So now I’m paying for it, because you see it’s not your experience the industry wants; it’s not your carisma, or your talent or your motivation or even your childish enthusiasm they’re after. No, they want to know that you, too, shelled out an amount of dough greater than or equal to the worth of their own degrees before they’ll even open a god damn portfolio. So be it. I’ll buy the fucking thing and I’ll do it the honest way: by taking money for my sperm downtown.
Sure, I can jerk off into a cup. Have I ever done it before? Not in a cup, no. In a receptacle, maybe, and into a cup indirectly, but never “squirt in the cup, put a lid on it, enjoy your James ma’am.” Five, ten, fifteen years down the road, there could be me: child to a lesbian couple, or perhaps a hardline feminist with filed-down teeth and big gums who wears heavy red flannel and treks out to middle-school-age little league games where she is a stranger. That’s what I want for myself, right now. That’s my goal.
Really, it’d be nice to get all doped up and go to the dentist. My teeth are holier than the bulletproof Pope-mobile. I’m more sensitive to them, too. You can’t see the Pope in his little squad-wagon anymore. They don’t show him. I wish they would. As a child I used to love witnessing the Pope-mobile. It was hilarious. That was before I knew how to jerk off, much less into a cup. And that brings me back to it. Would the pope jerk off into a cup (assuming he had the capacity to engage in a sexually taxing activity like physical masturbation) to save a dying woman’s legacy? How about his own?
I hear we are winning in Iraq so now we’re moving to Afghanistan. Hopefully we will see the same success over there and we can even replicate it in Iran. The UN Chief would like to see that. Sooner or later we’re going to have to go dick against balls with Russia and it’s going to be gritty and you will not see a fear more sinister, more urgent than that which will be pumped out of live television, radio and telegraph broadcasts in our lifetimes on that fateful day when Russian bombers imposing over our inland suburbs like chicken-hawks. The pilots have to use the bathroom, too. “Is that frozen piss-sleet hitting the roof, honey, or is that napalm? I’ll check it this time, you went out last time…”
More on this, as events unfold.
Yeah, okay so I haven’t done this whole ear wax blog stuff yet because I don’t have to. But recently this Lebal Drocer company asked me to write something or they’d stop the nitrocious flow of cash that I’ve been getting for over 5 months now (its sweet, believe me loomwads). So I decided to write up a little opinion column for this little waxing elf enthusiast website (seriously what the hell kinda brokeback name is that anyway?)
So recently in the World of Nitro, I’ve began to notice a little trend that I’m not too keen about. It seems like ever since I moved from New Jersey (It’s Jerstrocious!) to this pitiful state, everyone just stares me down like a leper every time I step foot outside. What gives?!? Sometimes I’ll be simply grabbing a 48-pack of brews from the Nitromobile. Other times I’ll be just checking my mailbox, filtering out all the billz and wal-mart junk(the PITS!) and minding my own nitro business(as always). But no matter what, if the Nitrocity himself is outside, you better believe some complete noobody(noob+nobody, quote me!) will be staring me down like I was a TV set.
Now, you gotta realize the scale of noobwads that I get glares from. Its damn near everyone, dudes. The fat, single Tony Soprano-looking dude walking his yappy dog, the guys that believe they are in some kinda rap video at all hours, the fat ugly girls who just sit outside for no reason other than to be annoying, even the wastes of existence that live directly around me (“neighbors” as you call them). I realize you guys are just trying to live (very boringly), but c’mon, you don’t need to bring me down to your level. I got better fish to cook! I realize my hair is longer than yours, my wardrobe cooler than your nicest outfit, my lifestyle more nitrocious than your best night, but there’s no need to stare. Staring won’t get you any closer to being nitrocious. So next time, you happen to be outside, begging for attention with your disposable garbage music (play some Springsteen at least!), walking your dog in hopes of picking up college chicks, or drinking Budweiser Lights at the microscopic pool(seriously I’ve pissed bigger puddles), just ignore my presence because your not getting a free performance or a beer bong to the face out of it.
I’m starting to ramble so i’ll make my point simple: Just because we share the same apartment complex does not give you ANY right to look anywhere near my direction. There’s a million things to look at outside: the shitty cars, the shitty pool, the shitty other people who live here. Why must you choose me to point your vision-producing spheres at? Just because I am a renowned karaoke singer and all-around badass does not mean I’m your toy monkey banging cymbals. I perform for a minimum of 7 figures and unwarrantedly looking my direction just makes that figure rise as well as my inner-rage to shatter your face.
You don’t want to end up like this dude.
Whatever noobs, I’m gonna go get nitrocious. Jim Beam to da face!
Oh yeah, and coming soon, losers…
Just Because I Go To This University Does Not Mean You Have The Right To Look At Me.
Just Because I’m At This Drive-Thru Does Not Give You The Right to Take My Order.
Two political candidates are fighting to be The One who gets your vote this November (that’s only a figure of speech, your votes aren’t actually counted).Of them, both are liars, and the third?What’s his name, Loser McCain (L), he wants war so nobody’s voting for him.If you don’t understand that, then look around you.We’re more at war with ourselves thanIraq.Iraq?TheIraq War?What a sham.
The whole point of it is to keepAmericain the throes of its State-Issued Nervous Breakdown of 2008, not too dissimilar from its counteraction to the Summer of Love forty years prior, except this time instead of Love there was Fear and nobody in particular is at the wheel of this negative driving force.
Of course, that means for you there is something like one hundred thousand reasons to hide from your own government because technology is being used against us as a means for control.The Feds don’t show up at your house for nothing, no they appear because they’ve been watching your activity.They know what you download and know more about what you upload, so watch yourself.Images, words, video, information, a war on knowledge itself is being waged against not only Americans but humanity and what is forbidden is a regional delicacy, much like snails in France and cats in China.It all tastes bitter, though.
Sometimes all I really want from you fuckers is the ability to piece together a reasoning thought, but you can’t really do that, can you?No, that’s why you voted for Bush the second time around—because you’re an unthinking peon of the servant masses who is so easily swayed by the messages mass media is shoving down your throats that maybe you think it tastes good to act in favor of what the “adults” are doing.Well, I’ve got news for you kids, bad fucking news (but what does that mean? Good news is news too, right? Yeah, get a grip you tool) and it’s about some shit you aren’t willing to understand; think about this election right now.Really think about what the candidates mean to you.What’s the difference in John McCain and Barack Obama, and why aren’t people making more jokes about these losers?Is it because the political machine has managed to elude even the highest form of humor?Is this the Bible Incarnate?Far from it, but it may still yet be a signal of the apocalypse, if you consider the implications of any of these political jokers and compare it to your own basis for reason, which may or may not hinge on the conditional truth of a Sunday Hour Fairy Tale, brought to you by the Southern Baptists and Pedophile Catholics.This just in, you’re a whore.
So what do they mean to us, Galloway?Enlighten your readers.Well, that choice is yours.Wal-Mart or K-Mart?Sheetz or the WaWa?Constriction, or the Illusion of Freedom?Forget the Republican.People are sick of the GOP.If he gets elected, well we can go ahead and prepare for the freezing over of the Old Testament realization of Hell and settle in for a long Nuclear Winter.Buy canned spinach.So now you have a choice between someone who’s going to baldly lie to your face because you expect a little “politicking” from your elected leader (that’s how you know they’re doing their damn jobs), or someone who is going to lead you down a dead-end path of contrived forced progressivism.The choice is yours.Most of you have already voted.My sources are telling me you voted as I knew you would, and for your own sake probably should, so at this point I can only offer my apologies on behalf of the system that has failed us all again.If I had anything to do with it, you can bet your ass I’d write a very loud-mouthed bill that would not even be considered for a legitimate proposal and subsequent vote before the House or Congress – but we all know that as an institution they too have failed us and the Executive, Legislative and Judicial branches are so out of whack that the poison is visibly oozing from them – internet porn rings, pedophilia, whorehouses, gay bathhouses – all part of the Washington Routine that you read about every week in the Post.But fuck pretending to be the president for your own crippled speculation. Oh, what the Hell, if I were president, I’d deactivate the nationally accredited police force and let the cannibals, thieves, dope fiends, degenerates, plane hijackers, murderers, rapists, junkies, and local state representatives pick your fucking bones clean because I despise you as a people, as a nation, as a fifty-year-old man sucking on his mother’s tits, because you’re a failure of an overweight Nation and you’re even a failure as a complacent people, and you’re a failure as a society, and you need to be brought down off that fucking high horse you’ve been trouncing around on since you discovered higher levels of consciousness behind the peel-off-and-win Burger King cup.
Getting back to my point:I loathe your existence.Your presence is poison.But here you’ll always be, populating this Fair Country, nodding in agreement to Dr. Phil and Judge Joe Brown, wishing more people were like Oprah, and guffawing at the atrocities CNN occasionally shows taking place in countries like Sudan and North Korea only to forget about it when your chunky butterball wife pulls another burned pot roast out of the oven in hopes that it makes your dick just hard enough to slide into her arid, sticky vagina long enough to deposit your Pepsi-ridden seed before falling flaccid at the sudden awareness of what you truly are in that orgasmic moment of painful, anus-itching realization that life, and indeed control over your life snuck away when you weren’t looking.
But either candidate can and indefinitely will ensure continuance of the aforementioned lifestyle.So go on.Fear and Ignorance is on the ticket. Vote for it.
Kay S. Hymowitz may have you believe that there is a new generation of “Child Men” out there to make women’s job of trapping men into their idea of a happy and “adult” life very hard. Here’s what she has to say in a nutshell. And a link to her article, which I did actually read. Her ideas of women sound like snippets out of an idealized version of “Sex and the City.” And every guy out there is just like “Fry” from Futurama, just so you get the gist of things.
With women, you could argue that adulthood is in fact emergent. Single women in their twenties and early thirties are joining an international New Girl Order, hyperachieving in both school and an increasingly female-friendly workplace, while packing leisure hours with shopping, traveling, and dining with friends [see “The New Girl Order,” Autumn 2007]. Single Young Males, or SYMs, by contrast, often seem to hang out in a playground of drinking, hooking up, playing Halo 3, and, in many cases, underachieving. With them, adulthood looks as though it’s receding.
She then lays into every single comedic act from Dave Chappelle, Jon Stewart, the creators of South Park, Adam Sandler, Jim Carrey, Will Ferrell, Ben Stiller, Vince Vaughn, Owen Wilson, Luke Wilson, Jack Black, Steve Carell, and Matt Groening, the creator of the Simpsons and Futurama. She moans about Sci-Fi, and sports that “simulate war” like football, and all martial arts. She also attacks video games. With all the talk of child-men she never even mentions Andy Milonakis or Peewee Herman. Granted she does bring up more misogynistic entertainment icons like Tucker Max and George Ouzounian (Maddox) of “The Greatest Website in the Universe,” but come on. What kind of dipshit still reads that shit after they turn 17?
The fact is they are no part of “the media.” They’re just guys like me who can figure out how to post things on the internet. Everyone has that power, Kay, I think you know. If it wasn’t for the internet, maybe people with rotten-to-the-core ideas like Maddox would not corrupt our boys into permanent childhood (happiness). The difference though, is that Maddox is joking, and you are dead serious. Kay’s point is now obvious.
Not only is no one asking that today’s twenty- or thirtysomething become a responsible husband and father—that is, grow up—but a freewheeling marketplace gives him everything that he needs to settle down in pig’s heaven indefinitely.
This is what I have to say in response Ms. Hymowitz:
FUCK THAT! GROWING UP HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH BECOMING A HUSBAND OR A FATHER. YOU ARE THE ONE WITH THE WRONG MESSAGE.
Do not blame the free market for the fact that women want to find a husband and men just don’t give a fuck. I am not a pig for being who I am, but you are a TRUE BITCH for suggesting that marriage to a woman is the only way a man can ever grow up. That is totally false and offensive to both men AND women of any intelligence. All I have to say is I hope your type fades away. Stop watching TV so much if you’re so fucking smart. It gives you the wrong idea about the real world.