Wednesday, 28 March 2012

Chromosome Damage




The nineties were a blast. Really, kids -- I mean it(!). But even the most golden of eras has has its tarnished edges. The nineties were a good example. I suppose there might be any number of "aciiiid" casualties who bear the lingering effects of serotonin depletion or psychosis and whatnot due to the lingering after-effects of excessive MDMA indulgence. But all of that is such microscopic potatolettes when compared to the legacy wrought by the decade's boom in "management theory" and "lit."

Because really, it was pretty easy to peg Timothy Leary as having been full of shit. And then we hit that stretch in the early-mid '90s when columnists for Wired magazine were channeling Timothy Leary with endless cyber-gaga theosophic Blavatkian yarns about how the internet and "virtual reality" were all gonna catapult humanity en masse to the next post-meat evolutionary level; which was also way too easy to call bullshit on, as well. But now, this many years after the fact, when each of (y)our long series of corporate bosses sound like they're channeling Leary at certain moments of a meeting or an annual employeee review, you might find yourself wondering if we're not all terminally fucked.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got some "self-actualizing" to do, some cheese to find.

3 comments:

David W. Kasper said...

Hey don't diss Leary or Wired . Since the 90s I've lived in halluconogenic bliss, with my dick permanently plugged into an X-Box. In space.

Erik Davis reassured me it's been normal behaviour for millennia.

Matt Moore said...

Well, I had Stelarc inserted into one of my verucas. I had to dig out Arthur Kroker first, mind.

Marvel at my post-humanity!!!

Greyhoos said...

You are not a gadget. Now take your pecker out of that Xbox and go find your cheese.