- They are not long, the days of wine and roses: out of a misty dream our path emerges for a while, then closes within a dream. I can never go back to that thing. Never. All it ever does it lie and talk shit and dangle impossible dreams in front of my sleepy eyes. The chattering cyclops.
They’re still doing that shit? Sitting there, slung low in a comfy chair or stretched out on a sofa? Taking it all in, everything on an equal footing: news, opinion, comedy, real life, fake life, ads? If they could find a way to project it all overlapping, they would. One solid sustained blurt of information and disinformation, blended together into an incomprehensible slurry of meaning, suggesting, questioning, subverting, confirming… in the key of B for bullshit.
I hope it fades away. Maybe it’ll be something that people can revert to when there’s nothing better to do. Right now it’s what we do to ensure that there’s nothing better to do.
