Why We Need to Talk About Information
Y’all Keep Calling My Crazy, Think of 10 Years From Now, After I’m Proved Right
Trump won because of Titter. But it’s trickier than that. Titter was the fastest platform to share links quickly. Back then ‘quickly’ looks comically slow to us today.
Stick with me. Everything’s right, so just hold tight.
People who don’t have anything to do will look for, well, a leader. This can range from a loving, underchallenged housewife to a resentful, underappreciated housewife to just about any tagging of storylines. She will ask husband for recommendations, or ask friends for recommendations. We will analyze this in greater detail in the course. What is important is that if individual is not carrying their own torch, or has never had a torch to speak of, they will need to look elsewhere for light. In olden days this process happened across millennia, but with generation innovation progression increasing past Moore’s Law (and we’re at the culmination of that vibe, like the Ghostbusters crossing their streams) everything happens faster.
Enter YouTube. The hyperdrive giving boost to our hyperspeed. Human beings without their own light, drive, purpose — Love, will react in meaningful ways to stimuli selected for them at random. They will begin to shape their torch based on what Google Corp has provided. They might cling to Bob Ross jokes and head off down that path, when This Old House clips might have been their vocation. The Bob Ross path takes them into art, then into computers, and electronic music, so that’s what they play for the girl they whose tit he wants to touch ***ANYTIME HE WANTS*** and when she responds positively to this stimuli, which he will, he has just the right amount of testosterone flowing through his body, he is now an electrohead for the rest of his life until his ennui makes him drug more and the random hallucinations get him to see God and he’s locked in a monastary his entire life, when carpentry might have been his true calling.
Cut to the newly shaved head of the misguided incel now grown, sad, in a robe, in a monastary, with NOTHING to do all day.
But there’s a leaky roof.