3.3.17



I.
Denizen of dull dystopia, Netizen Nobody, data molecule in vast data vat, shared disinterestedly between 5 eyes, perhaps to become victim, if unfortunate, of assassination by algorithm, predator drone up the arse, and all because a random word sequence triggered alarm bells in sinister concrete monolith, circled by banal carpark-
MASTICATE
FOLORNLY
MILDEW
MULTIPLIES
BIRDS
OF LATE SEPTEMBER
How were we to know? And, how do you reason with a robot? It’s just not cricket.
This tight knit net of fate ending inevitably in pointless death, targeted
By checklist, if you liked that
You’ll love this
It was all a big trap
And now THEY have a thousand hours of webcam footage of you, red-faced and wanking,
To MILF, teen lesbian, Ebony beauty, barely legal shaved, monster black cock, exotic Asian, double penetration, cum on tits, schoolgirl spanking, pantyhose, clothed female/nude male,
So you can put that revolution on hold pervert-
Course in the old days THEY would have strong-armed your priest, your psychoanalyst or your mistress, burst into a brothel with a camera, caught EN FLAGRANTE, dirty sordid work, now, the whole process has been refined, self-incrimination, is quicker, it’s easier and it’s more elegant, and even if you resisted your baser instincts, or never had any to begin with, it’s a matter of minutes to forge something and mud sticks. SMEAR CAMPAIGN. That’s the way of future. That’s what I’d do if I were THEM.
The Net is closing in. Course you can do whatever you want in life just don’t fuck with the money, don’t rock the boat, don’t be a hero and don’t wise up the marks.
It’s a casino, the house always wins
You think a young punk like you is gunna change all that you got another thing coming, this is a gangster movie not a fairy tale so put your shining armour back in the closet cupcake.
That’s how I imagine it. A racket, held up with violence and the threat of violence, at every level, right the way to the top. It’s what we think about, down here, among the exhaust fumes and dogshit at street level, looking up at the towers, boardrooms and penthouses of the rich and powerful. We dream of fame and fortune, and they make a mockery of us, and we laugh right along. Wear that chicken suit and I’ll give you a dollar There’s no way to success that doesn’t involve the casting couch and co-option, your agenda subsumed by the agenda of your sponsors. Power is always the flipside of submission, and no reward comes without sacrifice.
You sell your soul for worldly rewards, and an eternity of torment, that’s the deal on the table, always has been. Course, the gamble is that you’re damned already, so might as well enjoy the fruits of this world first, not an irrational proposition by any means, but certainly a gamble with the highest stakes.
There’s no way out. Or there is, but let’s see you stuff a camel through the eye of a needle. Your best bet, if you ask me, is grit your teeth and tough it out, life’s short, and when it’s over the satisfaction you’ll gain from stubbornness will act as cause for some small if grim satisfaction, you wait and see.
II.
The times call for Iconoclasm and tearing down of false idols. A new Puritanism and moral indignation. Can you stop forcing those leggy blondes down my throat please? I feel like one of those foie gras geese. I just want to get on with my day and not have it broken into jagged shards of distraction. Is that too much to ask for? No more bedroom eyes and come hither smiles, after all, I don’t even know you, and if I was to approach you a burly bodyguard with a bomber jacket and an earpiece would crash tackle me into the concrete. Hollywood has run its course. Roll up the red carpet.
Can’t go 5 minutes without someone trying to give me a semi-on plus I keep tripping myself up, if I’m being honest, like, listen to this thing I’ve got to say, do you approve of it? -waits for approval, never gets enough approval, you can’t have enough approval,
Or listen to this provocative thing I’ve got to say, are you indignant? And then check back, can never have enough indignation and while I’m at it don’t you think I’m very clever/witty/pretty/totally outrageous? Well, I’ve read a load of articles about it, it’s a form of addiction isn’t it? They’re always talking about it. Tiny little electrical brain rewards, dopamine injections, that whole scene under the Bodhi tree…
I mean, it’s a lead isn’t it?
III.
The Injunction-Unplug. Override Punishment/Reward back and forth, it’s just a device for training dogs to sit up and beg, have a biscuit, bad boy, naughty boy.
Have you been a naughty boy?
There’s no great mystery to how the whole operation works, I mean to say, they’re not that clever, no such thing as a criminal mastermind. They just know which buttons to press. Greed, lust, sloth, envy and so on. What’s a sin? Just the way to bait a trap. There’s no moral dimension in play. This is where the confusion lies. It’s a guide to avoid getting tricked, like you might find in the Naples Baedeker. Keep getting fooled by the same shell game and you’ve only yourself to blame.
Take it or leave it. Time loops if you can’t find your way out of it. Don’t you want to get out?

3 comments:

  1. I vote for neo-luddism. Make the spooks work for their smear - oversized radar dishes pointing out of suspect Ford Anglias. People in bushes. Men standing at street corners reading/not-reading newspapers.

    Social Media is not the opiate of the masses but the heroin; obliterating, refined. No crude 19th century inefficiency here! Comment section of Guardian article operates as pacifier masquerading as feedback.

    Mechanisation and computerisation of all functions. Humans are now just shitty robots.









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  2. "humans are now just shitty robots"
    pretty much, and primed for the scrap heap. They've got the same looming energy crisis on the horizon as we have though. no such thing as a free lunch. Plus I can get by on cold baked beans and dairy lea whereas robots are more particular.

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  3. the easy answer being WW3 and/or ecological catastrophe, wipe a few million off the map. rich men in cave complexes with flatpack biodomes in boxes for when the heat dies down, plus future rebel army of uncontacted tribes deep in the Amazon and Andaman islands.

    ReplyDelete