If you aren't a moral busybody or a turbo wastrel there's no world for you left. I sometimes try to determine which performance I like least, but the answer is something I apparently have to build from first principles every time. They're utter duplications of the other, arguably manufactured by each other; sometimes they can even switch sides successfully. It's a personality type, as near as I can tell, trailed by a velvet cape of adherents. On the one side, you've got young people becoming old people, desperate to outrun their Something Awful posting history by pledging allegiance to… themselves, I guess. And on the other side, you've got people who get irrationally angry when they see an A cup. You know? It's the, uh… it's the fight of the century.
They're a perpetual motion machine; a self-chasing dog. I do my absolute best not to talk about important things on here. I don't think I have secret insights on how to live and I certainly don't think I have some inalienable right to mess with your radio knobs. That said, my mom used to make me get the Whippin' Spoon. It was a long walk there and back. I've just read too many people talking about this fucking Bond game who haven't played it. If you have to lie to be right, you aren't right. This is pretty straightforward stuff. It's a genre of Man now, whose head floats over hated media - a man for whom the occasional whippin' with a spoon wouldn't go amiss.
Having grown up in church, we had our own media, and then there was Secular media - the media of the fallen World. Our media was "good" because it was not Secular. In my mind, as a young, stupid person, the Internet would flood the zone with so much information that we would have to assess it piece by piece on its own merits. That's simply not how people work, and one of the primary goals of the aforementioned "forces" is to winnow media into their polarities of Sacred and Secular. What this results in is comical, borderline offensive cognitive poison of the sort where someone who defends sex with dick-out necromancers and savage bears tells you that being attracted to human women is some kind of Satanic act. Or, alternately, that boob small - boob too small.
Boob no beeg 🙁
A pox on both of your fucking houses. We've managed to develop a form of literacy that doesn't allow one to read, and because ephemeral "social" and even occasional "financial" rewards roll in when these commissars do their little sermons they must engage in the most psychotic ballet because last week's position is now too mainstream.
Anyway, 007 is good. Every moment of it feels completely intentional, and this is only the first chapter of a series we'll be able to live in for years. Oh! And the chasing of algorithmic clout has completely destroyed our ability to make sense of the world, yes, all the way down to how I dare to spend my own time at the end of the day. Fucking shut up.
(CW)TB out.
