Techno Toys

Описание: Welcome to Million Dollar Extreme, the new wave in technology, social media dispersal and viral advertising. It's like Gary Vaynerchuck says, you need twitter in order to tweetie. Now read along if you want some knowledge or you could just kneepad right now and start sucking our dicks.

There's new avenues in your neighborhood, maybe you thought about driving down them, maybe you parked on them, but they're really one big smoke show. Inside this deep misty haze you can hear the sounds of whispers, whispers of networking success, whispers of the expression of individuality--yes, someone really was interested in what this other person ate at the local organic fusion 'joint'--but let's not kid yourself, s/he has that special kernel of charisma that makes babies giggle. You have fuckin' nothing which is why I work at Borders. Web 2.0 is a bread and circus type deal. Everybody wants to be the ringleader, and there's no bread.

Slight sidenote: what we have here is no less than a modern day gold rush. The miners are all fresh-faced kids like us, some with art-school degrees, some just precocious, mostly from SoCal, and the center of culture on planet 'oif'--Williamsburg, Brooklyn. The gold is 'cool' and the pickaxe is branding. We're talkin t-shirts, stickers, hats, vinyl-appliques... you know, big print, custom silk-screened jobs that cost $40 a pop. I tried explaining all this shit to my mom and she stopped listening almost immediately.

Bigga pitcha: two strands are intertwined, rocket-weaving back-and-forth and upwards into the future. One strand is made of carbon nanotubes, and it's way the fuck over there, and it's impossible to understand until it gets distilled into an article in Popular Science or Wired. This is the strand that science fiction writers have dreamed about for years, the strand that is humanity's only hope of transcending these disgusting vessels we slosh about in. The other strand is made of pure, bloody red bum shit; it's riding on the back of the first strand, maybe one day we'll be rid of it, but right now it's the apple of our collective eye. Maybe this has something to do with infants' obsession with feces? It's tactile, it smells good, heck it even tastes good. I'll admit it. I played with, ate, and smeared myself with my own feces, and the feces of others, up until about age 25.

What we're saying is, you know, technology man, like, the future... it's already here. Protons are being teleported, genomes are being decoded, mini-nukes are being put into orbit. But what are we all doing? Are we telling the scientists how we want this technology used? If we were, would that even be a good thing? The best and brightest of us, us being the group of people who matter, the people who have some shred of sanity, believe in evolution, vote for black presiDON'Ts, etc.--we're playing with fucking toys! The quality of life for 95% of our brothers and sisters is still rated T for toilet. If someone would just tell me, "hey, it's not all supposed to be fair, we're supposed to be all fucking each other over", then maybe I'd be able to make sense of all this and get my fuck on. But there's always that nagging feeling that maybe something's not right. Is my quality of life enhanced because the resolution of my phone screen is finer than the human eye can perceive? I guess these are all little things that add up to one great big difference, but I'm still gonna be waiting here for this whole 'future' thing to take off.

Imagine throwing a bomb into a 'reducer'; putting it in a box; spraying it with 'Obsession' by Calvin Klein. Turn it into a set of tits. You gots nothing. You're still driving a Crown Victoria with 200,000 miles on it, at breakneck speed over the speed bumps in life. You jerk off a ton, and when you get out of bed in the morning, you walk over to that console and play in the slop, show and tell with the rest of the dummies. It's the same old story with new trimmings: priorities in an awkward spiral.

Well, that's enough about what I did with my day. I guess it's time to put on my big boy pants, cut my teeth, and squeeze the white heads. Time to win a race you didn't even know you were in. Good news is, I just told you all that... when you do want start to sucking on my dick?