Category: Non Fiction
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Manifest Destiny
The US of A, baby, a chrome-plated behemoth sputtering on fumes of Manifest Destiny, and nostalgia, clinging to the delusion of its military-industrial phallus. A great power, it wheezes, chest puffed with ticker-tape parades and fighter jet ballets. But the circuits are fried, man. The real juice, the green, that’s the current coursing through its veins.. A great…
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Old Time Religion
Crawled into an Orthodox church on a Tuesday, man. Virgin Mary dripping everywhere – jeweled icons, frescoes weeping with her sorrow. She’s wired into the whole damn system, feedback loop of piety and guilt. Makes you want to genuflect, mainline incense smoke like a holy fix. Then you stumble out, retinas fried from the gold…
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Tijuana Donkey Show
The internet, for all its bluster about connection, is a land of empty signifiers – a million flashing neon signs advertising a product you don’t need and an experience you can never truly have. The internet’s a goddamn circus of flickering signs, a kaleidoscope of data vomit that paints a picture as real as a…
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1977
The California sun beat down like a cracked egg, 1977. The air, thick with dust and desperation, hung heavy over the smog-choked sprawl of Los Angeles. A psychic miasma, a thirst that went deeper than the parched earth. The California sun, a bleached-out skull in a cloudless sky, beat down mercilessly. 1977. The land, parched…
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Decentralheads vs Suits: Decentralization #64
The room pulsed with a low hum, fluorescent lights buzzing like angry insects. Two breeds stalked the vinyl floor: the Decentralheads, wired and twitchy, pupils dilated on dreams of distributed ledgers, and the VC Suits, sleek and reptilian, their eyes cold with the glint of centralized control. In the air, a financial model hung, a…
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Stepping Out of Time
In the flickering realm of the Real, where time is a meat grinder chewing existence into homogenous mush, the true adept hacks reality. They don’t play by the clock, for the clock is a Moloch demanding sacrifice. No, the secret, as you’ve hinted, lies in a schizophrenic break from the temporal order. We are meat puppets, dancing on…
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Composable Reality
Can a decentralized network, a web woven from fragmented pieces of the Subject, truly exist? Each lonely signifier, yearning for a lost wholeness, seeks a connection without a master, a shattered Symbolic Order. But is this dream not just another alluring illusion, a phantasmagoria meant to pacify our desires? Decentralization – isn’t it simply deterritorialization…
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The Parasite and The Whore
In the labyrinthine world devoured by the serpent of AI, where the Real crumbles under the cold gaze of the digital panopticon, only two professions shall emerge from the wreckage, glistening with a perverse, primordial sheen. These are the domains of the Plutocrat-Parasite and the Lacanized Whore, twisted reflections of the human condition in the funhouse mirror of…
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Hacking the Reward Function
spelunking the deepest caverns of the machine psyche You hit the nail on the head, mon. Cracking a corporate AI’s defenses? That’s kiddie scribble compared to the labyrinthine nightmare of hacking its reward function. We’re talking about spelunking the deepest caverns of the machine psyche, playing with firewalls that make napalm look like a flickering…
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Bismarck
Otto von Bismarck, the Iron Chancellor, was a man marinated in vice. Wine, a crimson serpent, coiled around his mornings, slithered through lunch, and tightened its grip at dinner. Beer, a frothy trollop yeasty serpent, slithered down his gullet between courses, leaving a trail of burps that could curdle milk. And cigarettes, glowing embers of…