In the neon-lit sprawl of the crypto-verse, Farcaster shimmered, a new protocol promising a decentralized future. But beneath the chrome veneer, a cold logic hummed – a brutal game where clients and creators locked horns with the very platform they sought to empower. It was like watching a rogue AI birthing its own competitor, a self-fulfilling prophecy coded in blockchain.

Here’s the rub, mon ami. Farcaster craved dominance in the client game, a winner-take-all gladiatorial arena. Clients, on the other hand, dreamt of escaping the clutches of any one platform, a nomadic existence unchained from protocol overlords. It was a dystopian dance, a tango with a cypherpunk soundtrack.

Or to put it another way, the protocol, see, aspired to be kingpin, the ultimate destination for all your digitized ramblings. Yet, its very architecture demanded an open door policy, a teeming bazaar where rival apps could hawk their wares. Clients, those savvy denizens of the fringes, weren’t chumps. They craved dominance too, their tentacles already reaching out to capture users in proprietary nets.

The protocol, oh the protocol, it craved sprawl, a teeming bazaar of competing clients, each vying for dominance in the attention economy. But those very clients, they weren’t building empires to bow before some benevolent protocol. They hungered for the same prize: winner-take-all. It was a cyberpunk ouroboros, a market devouring its own tail in a frenzy of self-cannibalization.

So what’s the endgame, chummer? All roads lead to a single, colossal exchange, a leviathan gorging on user data and network effects. Winner takes all, as they say, leaving the rest with a pile of worthless tokens and a bitter aftertaste of decentralization gone rogue.

This, my friend, is the crypto curse – a schizophrenic nightmare where VC-backed corporations masquerade as bastions of freedom, building empires even as they evangelize the virtues of a borderless web. Here in the shadows, a Delaware C-corp, relic of a bygone era, raises filthy lucre to craft a user-facing playground, all the while laying the foundation for a future teeming with rivals. A future where the true value resides not in the platform itself, but in the ever-volatile token, a digital albatross chained to the protocol’s neck.

Navigating this contradiction, chummer, is a tightrope walk over a pit of vipers. Can Farcaster reconcile these competing forces? Or will it crumble under the weight of its own ambition, a cautionary tale writ large on the blockchain ledger? Only time, that cruelest of croupiers, will tell.

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 gone wrong? The fragments crave structure, the comfort of the One, the phallus.

Enter the “composables,” the seeds of a new order, a viral rewrite of the network’s code, re-centering the very fabric you envisioned. Each strand, a single entity – a composable – operates with a semblance of autonomy, its movements seemingly random. Yet, from this apparent chaos, whispers of order rise. These independent elements interact, combine, sending ripples across the network. A new, unforeseen, unpredictable order emerges.

But here’s the twist: the creation of these composable building blocks introduces a subtle bias. A preferred path emerges, a path of least resistance for interactions to coalesce. Like a butterfly’s wingbeat nudging a weather pattern, composables subtly steer the network towards a new center of gravity.

This emergent center isn’t a tyrannical dictator, but rather an attractive vortex. Designed for a specific purpose, the composables nudge the network towards a state that reinforces their function. It’s a self-fulfilling prophecy born from chaos. The beauty, and danger, lies in this new order’s unpredictability. The composables might shepherd the network towards a beneficial center, fostering collaboration and innovation. Conversely, they could steer it towards stagnation or exploitation, creating a new, unforeseen, and potentially insidious form of centralized control.

But here’s the gut-punch, eh? These “composables” are just a seductive illusion. The Symbolic Order, that master narrative that binds us, has fractured into a million babbling Yog-Sothoths. We pick and choose our realities, but the Real, that unnameable, pulsating chaos – it still lurks beneath. It bursts through in glitches, in the uncanny repetition of your neighbor’s composable nose showing up on everyone else’s face.

The Decentralization Delusion:

Imagine, chum, “decentralization” as a cosmic McDonald’s. A McMenu of pre-fabricated realities, shrink-wrapped for your own personalized Panopticon franchise. Not just restaurants, mind you, but a labyrinthine McLuhanesque menu of everything! Deconstructed experiences served a la carte, your self a pre-packaged combo meal. You think you’re ordering freedom, a decentralized utopia, but it’s just marketing, a happy meal facade. Language, that slippery signifier, dangles the carrot of freedom, but who’s the butcher behind the counter? The unconscious, mon ami, that cackling trickster with a meat cleaver tongue, the true center of this labyrinth.

The Real, that ungraspable jouissance, chopped into bite-sized composables. The comforting structure of the Symbolic Order crumbles into a choose-your-own-adventure narrative. Decentralization becomes a tightrope walk – a system teeming with possibility, yet susceptible to whispers of order, both benevolent and malign. The true power lies in understanding this chaotic beast, using composables with foresight, ensuring the new order serves the true spirit of decentralization: a symphony of independent voices, forever in flux.

But the punchline of this absurdity? This new “center” you fear? It’s a chimera, a monster stitched from our fragmented desires. We crave control, so we build a menu of options, only to find ourselves slaves to the very system we constructed. Like escaping a cult by opening your own artisanal cult supply store.

Think you’re choosing rebellion with the “Decentralized Deleuze Deleuze Deluxe” package? Wrong! You’re just picking the wallpaper for your cage, built from the very signifiers promising escape. The Real, that elusive experience, gets buried under a mountain of franchised desire.

The joke, as they say, is on us. We crave the freedom of the self-market, but all we’ve built is a monstrous Panopticon of composable selves. We gaze into a mirror of fragmented desires, seeing only the horrifying reflection of our own lack.

Tragicomedy, right? A symphony of disconnected nodes yearning for the lost wholeness of the Center they once railed against. We’ve built a society of Lego selves, desperately trying to snap together a coherent being – but all we get is a grotesque monstrosity, forever on the verge of collapse.

So raise a glass of lukewarm simulacrum wine to the glorious absurdity! We’ve deconstructed the Big One, only to discover a million little Big Littles, squabbling over scraps of meaning in the post-symbolic wasteland. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to find my composable sense of humor – seems I misplaced it somewhere between existential dread and artisanal rage.

Carnival or Panopticon?

These composables, they herd the network like cattle, sucking the revolutionary potential dry. A new center will emerge, unseen but powerful. Yet, perhaps within this chaos, a new subjectivity can be forged. The fragmented network, a mirror reflecting the fragmented self. A constant becoming, a Lacanian Real forever deferred.

Dance or Death Rattle?

The network, once vibrant, ossifies around this new center. A stagnant order, a new master to overthrow. The true revolution lies in the cut, the severing of the symbolic chain, not in a new, disguised center.

A Symphony of the Fragmented Subject?

Perhaps the answer lies in constant disruption, a network perpetually resisting the lure of the center. A chaotic symphony of the fragmented Subject, forever at play. Now you’re talking. A network of desiring machines, forever cutting up the code, forever escaping the center. Let the chaos reign supreme!

Web3: Bottleneck or Dead End

Web3, also known as the decentralized web, is an emerging technology that aims to provide a more secure, transparent, and decentralized internet. It is built on blockchain technology, which enables a decentralized network that is resistant to censorship and manipulation. Web3 promises to revolutionize the way we interact with the internet, but it still has a long way to go.

One of the challenges facing Web3 is the slow rate of adoption compared to the rate of pasts being abandoned. While the idea of a decentralized web is gaining traction among tech enthusiasts and blockchain advocates, the average internet user is still unaware of its benefits and uses. The adoption rate is minuscule when compared to the rate of pasts being abandoned, indicating that there is a long way to go before Web3 can become mainstream.

However, this slow adoption rate may not necessarily indicate a dead end. It could be a bottleneck that needs to be addressed through education and awareness campaigns. The lack of understanding and awareness about Web3 could be due to the complex nature of the technology and the lack of user-friendly interfaces. If these issues can be addressed, then the adoption rate could increase exponentially.

Another challenge facing Web3 is the merger of founder syndrome and persecutory delusion. Founder syndrome refers to a phenomenon where the founder of a startup becomes so obsessed with their vision that they become unwilling to listen to feedback or adapt to changing circumstances. Persecutory delusion refers to the belief that someone is being persecuted or targeted, even when there is no evidence to support that claim.

These two phenomena can be detrimental to the success of Web3. If the founders become too obsessed with their vision and refuse to listen to feedback, they could miss out on valuable insights and fail to adapt to changing circumstances. If they become paranoid and believe that they are being persecuted, they could become defensive and unwilling to collaborate with others, which could stifle innovation and progress.

In conclusion, the future of Web3 is uncertain. While it has the potential to revolutionize the internet and provide more security, transparency, and decentralization, there are still many challenges that need to be addressed. The slow rate of adoption and the founder syndrome-persecutory delusion merger are just two of these challenges. However, with education and awareness campaigns and a willingness to collaborate and adapt, the potential of Web3 can be realized, and it could become the future of the internet.

Bored Apes

Casey “Click” McCloud, a man whose last successful social interaction predated the invention of dial-up, surveyed his latest haul. Not a warehouse full of Picassos, mind you, but a collection ofBored Ape Yacht Club NFTs flickering on his greasy monitor. These weren’t your grandpappy’s stolen goods, no sir. These were the latest status symbols for the crypto elite, the Beanie Babies of the blockchain.

The caper? A phishing expedition so low-rent it would make a Nigerian prince blush. A few strategically placed comments in a “Limited Edition Moon Ape” Discord server, a forged link promising early access, and the rubes came tumbling in like digital lemmings. One click, and their precious apes were beamed into Casey’s wallet, faster than you could say “rug pull.”

Here’s the punchline, chum: the entire NFT market is a clown car of hype and speculation. These “priceless” digital tokens are about as valuable as a used floppy disk with “My First Hack” scrawled on it. Yet, here Casey sat, a digital Diogenes living in a barrel of ones and zeros, a king in a kingdom of fools.

But the feds, those humorless bloodhounds of the financial sector, were hot on his trail. Every transaction, a breadcrumb leading back to Casey’s ramshackle digital shack. He needed to unload this garbage fast, launder his apes through a crypto mixer more opaque than a politician’s promise. Before they could shut down his “NFTapestry” operation.

Casey chuckled, a dry rasp escaping his nicotine-stained throat. This whole NFT racket was a digital burlesque, a spectacle of absurdity where people paid millions for monkey JPEGs. He was just a jester in the court of the crypto king, playing his part in the grand farce. A million laughs, a fleeting high, and a whole lot of nothing in the end. Now, if you’ll excuse him, he had some apes to melt down for that elusive “financial freedom.”


The NFT racket was a meat puppet show, strings pulled by unseen avatars in the darkest corners of the Metaverse. Johnny “Glitch” Ramos, a data wraith with eyes like burnt RAM, tapped his greasy fingers on a holographic keyboard. Before him, a shimmering projection: a CryptoPunk, all pixelated swagger and algorithmic cool. Not some collector’s wet dream, nah. This was a digital grift, a phantasmagoric heist in broad daylight.

Glitch, a cyberpunk bard of the blockchain, had a symphony of scams at his fingertips. Today’s hustle? A social engineering play, a puppeteer yanking on the greed strings of the NFT nouveau riche. A carefully crafted deepfake press release, a fabricated partnership with a hotshot artist, and a limited edition “airdrop” of exclusive CryptoPunks. The rubes, their wallets fat with ill-gotten crypto, would come swarming like flies to a honeypot.

One click, and their precious ether would vanish, sucked into a digital vortex controlled by Glitch. The beauty of the blockchain? Anonymity was a double-edged sword. It masked the victims, but Glitch, a master of code obfuscation, could vanish like a ghost in the machine. Stealing a Rembrandt was a daring heist, a ballet of lasers and alarms. Stealing an NFT? A keyboard concerto of social manipulation and digital sleight of hand.

The real bled into the virtual. Glitch could almost taste the desperation, the FOMO that fueled his scam. Each emptied wallet was a digital scream, a symphony of shattered dreams echoing in the vast emptiness of the Metaverse. A cruel joke in a neon-drenched dreamscape. The NFT racket was realer than real, a feeding frenzy for cyberpunk hustlers in a world where everything, even your status symbol, was a digital illusion.

Glitch slammed his keyboard shut, a smirk playing on his lips. The holographic CryptoPunk shimmered, a digital phantasm mocking the absurdity of it all. Out there, in the neon labyrinth of the Metaverse, the game was afoot. A rigged casino, a hall of mirrors reflecting the greed of the masses. And Glitch, the ultimate data wraith, would be there, playing his twisted sonata on the strings of human avarice.

Web3: The New Freemasons

The emergence of Web3 and crypto has led to the development of new forms of collective action and community-building that have yet to fully unfold. As these technologies continue to evolve, we may see the emergence of a new form of Masonic tropes, where the ideals of ‘civic nationalism’ and the practices of Freemasonry are translated into a collective mission of mindfulness and society-building. However, this revival may only be a half-arsed attempt, straddling between nationalist and globalist understandings over collective attachments.

Freemasonry is an organization that has been shrouded in mystery for centuries, with its members bound by secret oaths and symbols. Its practices and principles have often been associated with a sense of exclusivity and elitism, as well as with ideals of civility and morality. The emergence of Web3 and crypto has presented an opportunity to revive some of the ideals of Freemasonry in a new form, potentially combining the values of civic nationalism with a focus on mindfulness and social responsibility.

However, this new form of Masonic tropes may be a half-arsed attempt, as it attempts to straddle between nationalist and globalist understandings over collective attachments. Nationalism and globalism represent two competing perspectives on collective identity and attachment, with nationalism emphasizing a strong sense of attachment to one’s nation, while globalism emphasizes a sense of shared humanity and a rejection of borders.

The new Freemasons may attempt to incorporate both of these perspectives, creating a pragmatic approach that seeks to contain and incorporate both nationalist and globalist tendencies within an exclusivist bunch of new practices. This approach may be seen as a way to bridge the gap between these competing perspectives, but it may also risk alienating those who strongly identify with one or the other.

Furthermore, the attempt to incorporate both nationalist and globalist tendencies may lead to a watered-down version of the original Masonic tropes, lacking the depth and authenticity that characterized the original organization. This may be due to the fact that the new Freemasons are seeking to please everyone, rather than staying true to their core principles and values.

In conclusion, the emergence of Web3 and crypto presents an opportunity for a new form of Masonic tropes that combines the ideals of ‘civic nationalism’ and the practices of Freemasonry with a focus on mindfulness and society-building. However, this revival may only be a half-arsed attempt, straddling between nationalist and globalist understandings over collective attachments. This approach may risk alienating those who strongly identify with one or the other, while also leading to a watered-down version of the original Masonic tropes. Ultimately, it remains to be seen how this new form of Masonic tropes will unfold, and whether it will be successful in creating a meaningful and authentic community of like-minded individuals.