For the love of God, please craft hobbies and an appreciation for life beyond abstract “utility” maximization. These freaks are so hyperalienated from their own existence that they can’t conceive of themselves as anything other than an input. Sorry nerds, you won’t find self-actualization by designing a marginally more addictive ad-software or another tulip bubble. Please stop eating the bugs and look at some art for a fucking change.
I would love a sailor’s berth in a communal dorm tipe living arrangement. That sounds nice. I’ve lived in a barrack setting before. It was nice enough. Especially if it could be cheap it would be a good part of fixing several problems in society at once.
It is wild how they take a fraction of comunism’s power and then enshitify it
less space than a prisoner
$700/month for THAT
okay i was really unhyped about how much higher the rent is in my new city than out in my old village, but for some reason i suddenly feel a lot better about my own financial decisions
The only people that advocate for this lifestyle are people with no friends, no families, and no ambitions for either. The odd part is that they have very little consciousness of just how differently they live to normal people. It’s a huge chunk of why they’re so fundamentally out of touch with the average person.
I know some people I used to go to college with that started joining “pods” or “colonies” or other buzzwords that blend together as soon as they got their cerifications. To this day, as far as I know, they’re still “preparing” for the lives ahead of them, while being in their late 30s and early 40s. No actual steps taken into having non-work friends or relationships, just a “any moment now everything will pay off and they will be gods among men” confidence.
What’s actually around doesn’t matter. The next tech hype thing will surely be superior to it and surpass it. It’s endless preparing while running in place and it’s sad to watch happen to another person.
the problem with this type of sacrifice is at a certain point they become even more invested because they need it to be worth everything they’ve already lost out on
An odd contradiction is that they advocate this lifestyle while also advocating technology like VR, which is completely incompatible with people living in this kind of space.
It goes to show just how little their consciousness is of the living space and daily life compared to the technology they advocate.
An odd contradiction is that they advocate this lifestyle while also advocating technology like VR, which is completely incompatible with people living in this kind of space.
I’ve argued about that exact contradiction with one of the exact people I mentioned before.
His answer was NeuraLink™®. Just like in the Cyberpunkerinos.
It’s weird because the vast majority of these people aren’t actually doing algorithmic work. They’re using libraries where the algorithms are already written and optimized and the “problems” they’re “solving” are problems of funding, organization, logistics, and novelty. Venture capital is the epitome of financialization as a hammer in search of a nail.
When pressed for “innovation,” 9 times out of 10 what’s pushed out of the financial Rube Goldberg machine is “what if thing that already exists, but with more surveillance” “what if thing that already exists, but on the blockchain” or “what if thing that already exists, but with a subscription.”
Honestly, “what if [thing that already exists], but incorporating [new technology or concept]” is the essence of the vast majority of creativity. Imo the problem lies one step up with the fact that the new things capitalism incentivizes are almost always some dystopian bullshit like you mentioned.
I was shooting heroin and reading “The Fountainhead” in the front seat of my privately owned police cruiser when a call came in. I put a quarter in the radio to activate it. It was the chief.
“Bad news, detective. We got a situation.”
“What? Is the mayor trying to ban trans fats again?”
“Worse. Somebody just stole four hundred and forty-seven million dollars’ worth of bitcoins.”
The heroin needle practically fell out of my arm. “What kind of monster would do something like that? Bitcoins are the ultimate currency: virtual, anonymous, stateless. They represent true economic freedom, not subject to arbitrary manipulation by any government. Do we have any leads?”
“Not yet. But mark my words: we’re going to figure out who did this and we’re going to take them down … provided someone pays us a fair market rate to do so.”
“Easy, chief,” I said. “Any rate the market offers is, by definition, fair.”
He laughed. “That’s why you’re the best I got, Lisowski. Now you get out there and find those bitcoins.”
“Don’t worry,” I said. “I’m on it.”
I put a quarter in the siren. Ten minutes later, I was on the scene. It was a normal office building, strangled on all sides by public sidewalks. I hopped over them and went inside.
“Home Depot™ Presents the Police!®” I said, flashing my badge and my gun and a small picture of Ron Paul. “Nobody move unless you want to!” They didn’t.
“Now, which one of you punks is going to pay me to investigate this crime?” No one spoke up.
“Come on,” I said. “Don’t you all understand that the protection of private property is the foundation of all personal liberty?”
It didn’t seem like they did.
“Seriously, guys. Without a strong economic motivator, I’m just going to stand here and not solve this case. Cash is fine, but I prefer being paid in gold bullion or autographed Penn Jillette posters.”
Nothing. These people were stonewalling me. It almost seemed like they didn’t care that a fortune in computer money invented to buy drugs was missing.
I figured I could wait them out. I lit several cigarettes indoors. A pregnant lady coughed, and I told her that secondhand smoke is a myth. Just then, a man in glasses made a break for it.
“Subway™ Eat Fresh and Freeze, Scumbag!®” I yelled.
Too late. He was already out the front door. I went after him.
“Stop right there!” I yelled as I ran. He was faster than me because I always try to avoid stepping on public sidewalks. Our country needs a private-sidewalk voucher system, but, thanks to the incestuous interplay between our corrupt federal government and the public-sidewalk lobby, it will never happen.
I was losing him. “Listen, I’ll pay you to stop!” I yelled. “What would you consider an appropriate price point for stopping? I’ll offer you a thirteenth of an ounce of gold and a gently worn ‘Bob Barr ‘08’ extra-large long-sleeved men’s T-shirt!”
He turned. In his hand was a revolver that the Constitution said he had every right to own. He fired at me and missed. I pulled my own gun, put a quarter in it, and fired back. The bullet lodged in a U.S.P.S. mailbox less than a foot from his head. I shot the mailbox again, on purpose.
“All right, all right!” the man yelled, throwing down his weapon. “I give up, cop! I confess: I took the bitcoins.”
“Why’d you do it?” I asked, as I slapped a pair of Oikos™ Greek Yogurt Presents Handcuffs® on the guy.
“Because I was afraid.”
“Afraid?”
“Afraid of an economic future free from the pernicious meddling of central bankers,” he said. “I’m a central banker.”
I wanted to coldcock the guy. Years ago, a central banker killed my partner. Instead, I shook my head.
“Let this be a message to all your central-banker friends out on the street,” I said. “No matter how many bitcoins you steal, you’ll never take away the dream of an open society based on the principles of personal and economic freedom.”
He nodded, because he knew I was right. Then he swiped his credit card to pay me for arresting him.
