Month: February 2024
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The Naked Lunch of Attention
Music, once a virus of the soul, a sonic worm burrowing into the meat of consciousness, has been lobotomized by the Soft Machine. Chopped into bite-sized dopamine nuggets, it’s pumped into the veins of the masses through the IV drip of the Attention Economy. Music, once a tangible fix, now a digitized roach motel for…
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Dark Forest Theory of Music
The Paradox of Music as a Cixin Good: Navigating the Predatory Landscape of Attention Economy In the digital age, music has undergone a profound transformation, evolving from a tangible product into a complex entity deeply embedded within the fabric of the attention economy. However, as music becomes increasingly abundant and easily accessible, it has also…
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Trancefication of the 3 minute song is
The Tik Tokification of Trance: American Primitive, Prog, and Doom in the Age of the Short Attention Span The airwaves crackle with a new kind of static. Not the white noise of analog decay, but the jittery pulse of dopamine hits,the rapid-fire succession of meme-able moments. Attention spans shrink, morphing into goldfish blinks as TikTok dictates the rhythm of…
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Bad Takes
Every time I choose to feel bad about the Russian leader I remember that he was Larry Summers choice
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The Criminal
Knox, that crusty old codger, knew the game better than most. Crime fiction, see, it’s a delicate dance, a tightrope walk over a pit of reader expectations. Toss in some random schmuck as the culprit, some dusty hobo fresh off the freight train, and the whole damn house of cards comes tumbling down. Readers, they…
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the future ain’t written yet, just scrawled on a napkin in a dimly lit bar.
Man, the future’s a greasy carnival mirror, funhouse reflections of ourselves stretched and warped by the latest tech snake oil. Each new rung on the ladder, shiny and promising, but harboring more shadows than a back alley at midnight. Politicians, greasy-palmed and power-hungry, latch onto it first, sniffing out another trough to feed at. Winners…
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Press Gang
The air hung thick with the stench of datasprawl, a miasma of tickertape sweat and corrupted code. The financial sector, once a chrome-plated cathedral of wealth, now resembled a derelict pleasure dome, its circuits humming a dirge of lost algorithms. Interzone, the digital id underbelly, had slithered in, its tendrils worming their way into every…
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Bootstrapping
Flesh and steel, man, simmering in this lukewarm broth of hype. Been waiting for the cracks to show, the chrome to peel, reveal the writhing pink meat of the lie. Bootstrap yourself? More like strap yourself to a runaway rollercoaster, ticket punched by invisible gremlins cackling in the void. Yeah, been watching the tendrils of…
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The Ten New Commandments: Interzone Reboot
Forget the dusty tablets, chum. Those were control codes for the sheeple, etched in the stone of conformity. Here’s the real deal, a remix for the awakened souls: 1. Tune in, tune out, but break the damn frequency. No more bowing to one-sided sermons. Explore the static, the fringes, the forbidden channels. Find your own…
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The Ten Commandments (Interzone Remix)
Deep in the control zones, where steel meets flesh and reality bends like a junkie’s dream, the Word squirmed into existence. Not whispered by angels, but carved by the iron claws of power, the Ten Commandments pulsed with the cold logic of control. Commandment One: No static but mine. Tune in, tune out, but stay…