Come election day | bmo: I’m really fed up with the politics as it is being ‘fed’ to me. Especially the character issue. Which seems to me to be the end result of this personality/branding cult thing.
Truer words, people, truer words! It’s not like I didn’t tell you this personal branding thing sucks.
No, I mean literally, it sucks the existential marrow right out your bones.
And you wonder why you feel … so empty. After you log out of FaceFeed, FriendBook, whatever.
After you perhaps, god forbid, perform a Shut Down. You really ought to get a Mac, the script-kiddies have contests how long they can stay Up. Oh dear, that came out all wrong.
But really. And I suppose it’s Unix kiddies … but the thing is, like the good little server-guts it is, the Mac, any Mac, just keeps running and running. Which I do sometimes resent, and I do Shut Down my machine at night.
Right before I dash into bed.
After starting up Mail again one last time. Just in case.
Okay, some nights I might do a Restart … but that’s only so I can run f-scky, also just in case.
Like, maybe there won’t be time in the morning.
Oh the little lies we tell ourselves, just to get through this looong ennui-beset thing called, um, life.
These are very important things for people like Brian Moffat and me to put out. As an example to the Yout of America.
Who, if folks like us don’t speak up, will think it is a normal and natural thing, branding yourself. Marshall McLuhan (for want of a better person) is spinning in his grave. No? Karl Marx?
Television is a terrible and insidious thing. Take my word for it. I know, because I was born Before Television. That’s right. I am a Charter Member of the Mickey Mouse Club, neener-neener to you lot. Still got my card somewheres. (Wonder what it would bring on eBay. Course, it’s got my photo firmly affixed. Maybe not so much.)
And we all know how much people learn from their elders who are smarter and more experienced than they can ever hope to be. Not to mention Cool.
Street creds: I was a Flower Child.
Alright, then, don’t pay attention, but if you’re comin’ to San Francisco .. stay the hell off my lawn.
