I'm a bitter night nurse who thinks she's smarter than the doctors. I'm a frenzied bookkeeper who deserves an accountant's salary. I'm an unknown artist who thinks Jack and posting makes my despair beautiful.
A touch of personality enlivens your blog. It drives clicks. People want to know the you behind the story. But don't go too far or it's mom rock. Everybody wants to read about your opinions until they get too personal.
I think I'm smarter than the doctors because I always show the new residents where the extra gloves are. I didn't get my certification because I was too busy either having kids or partying or wasting my life on a man who left me with nothing. I never made it to the Gagosian because those bastards have no heart, man.
Hillary wants to tax estates at 65% instead of 40%. Outrageous. 40% they deserve, but 65% is too much. But it's only for over like eleven million bucks. Like Buffett, the message is to tax my income and not my holdings. Funny. A hundred years ago we wanted to break up "monopolies." Before that it was royal lineages. After that it was mere financial "estates." Now it's "corporate personhood." How long until they break up the great charities, the great governments? The real wealth is hidden in governments and, to a lesser extent, in charities. Governments set aside the bulk of the world's land as non-usable, prohibiting people from living on it or turning it into wonderful resources. We shiver at the thought of Exxon harming the caribou, but not at the thought of D.C. harming the Paki snow leopard. Going all soft over the caribou, as opposed to a Paki toddler, is one thing, but aren't snow leopard kittens or red deer yearlings cute, too?
We've talked before about the use of "states" as un-productive entities, meant to extract value from human labor while preventing the use of planetary resources, and we've talked about charities as a pseudo-privatized version of that same wealth, and we've talked about how states use "nature" as a means of controlling land speculation for future developers. Now Hillary wants to tax the mini-elites at 65%, while hiding the uber-elites' perpetual wealth inside private foundations. And that worthless sterile fuck Scott Adams is made indignant by the thought that he, too, might have to fake a charitable infrastructure in order to live vicariously through his cut of the Universal Uclick scheme. Watch out, Scott, you might have to pretend to be curing malaria. Choose something more up your alley, like improving working conditions in China. God, the next thirty years of that turd's life are going to make for miserable bystanding, as UU's media partners spin a Dilbertian hagiography of a simple man who set out to become wealthy and then turned to workers' rights philanthropy. If he never runs for president, at least we won't have to find out exactly how much he skims. Someday they're going to need to create a non-Israeli tax haven for all the Angloid partners and pirates who can't hack the Holy land's DNA requirements, but who still need a way to maintain plausible imperial citizenships while avoiding tax without having to establish some damn "charity."
Internet, then blogging, then Facebook, then Twitter, what can possibly be more brief? How long until we're all searching for standalone letters of the alphabet, and cheering at their insight? I think it was Confucius who said brevity is the price of wit.
Imagine the cumulative effect this has on the mass mind. We no longer need to act out, gesticulate, or merely verbally perform our thoughts. We don't have to write or polish. The instant something occurs to us, we can dump it into the internet, and it's "published." And in so doing, we've shot our load; we've stolen our own thunder; we've prevented ourselves from distilling and refining our ideas into a more mature form. If we tweet a cool idea we had, then later expound upon it in an essay, it's already lost some of its spirit. The readers already know the punchline; there's nothing more to be said but to flatter ourselves in the redundant details. How many great theories, how many epic novels, have we lost, because someone posted a snippet of an idea on the internet, then got the satisfaction of having shared it, and never needed to polish it up, first, or spend years developing it? Pick some great old deceased author you like, if there are any, and ask yourself, how many of their books would never have been written, if they could have swiftly unloaded the burden of a great idea to an appreciative audience without having to dip a quill for months on end? Take the proverbial Poe and presume he Facebooked one day, "So hypocritical how elites party during strife what if that came to visit them in disguise?" And that quickly, he relaxes. Need fulfilled. The Masque of the Red Death never has any need to be written, because he's made his point. You bought a cat so you don't need a child.
People whine about corporate personhood. I want corporations to have personhood. The first time Shell kills someone through negligence, instead of paying a fine, it goes to jail for two years for plea-bargained manslaughter. Every single operation is shut down for two years while it's in jail. Bam, it's nearly dead. For two years, every sign comes down and every property is leased out to their competitors. Let them have the vote, let them have free speech, and sign them up for the draft. The second time they kill someone through negligence, the first time they falsely claim a deduction, it's hard time for ten years. All the way dead. Please god, let corporations get personhood. Let the S&P 500 get 500 votes spread worthlessly across the states in which they claim primary residence, and let me have the right to "stand my ground" when Adobe tries to repossess last year's Photoshop.
To save us from the despair of unrefined workwomanship, maybe a wine-like subculture will develop, where people appreciate the effort and unobtainability of refined thoughts. But it's already ruined because it's now been compared to wine. Okay, pick a different metaphor.
Maybe this is all for the better, actually. Maybe there never was any need to mull things over for years before you finally crafted and presented them. After all, Rothko, right? Simplicity is the essence. Forty-year-old parents in Winnie-the-Pooh pajamas. If you combine your twitter with your blog with your end-product, you can talk about the same idea from seven different angles at once. You're so constantly published that you're never actually published. If women can be men and whites can be blacks, then no one can be anything--you figured that out, right? Well then, when the world's a stage, there are no more actors.