Messaging doesn’t change with medium. Free speech doesn’t guarantee an audience, and it doesn’t guarantee acceptance for said speech, because mandating responses for or against is still censorship. Nobody is actually owed love. Any person, place or thing that can do no wrong is a fiction.
When application’s all-encompassing cruelty or love loses meaning, whereas sparingly they achieve it. If people like Musk were self-reliant, we’d never hear about them. The less self-reliant someone is, the more reliant they are on others. Take away a captain of industry’s investors, workers, customers and audiences, and all they’ve left are bills from living beyond their own means, affording good publicity where good will is generally cheaper. I’m a firm, firm believer that the esteem of anybody is the priority or responsibility of nobody. Show me the fascist ever to have existed who did not mandate love or cruelty. Everyone’s suffering their own thoughts and feelings, why mandate mine be replicated or else? Nope, there is no kindness from a god, only what we ourselves might spare whether it makes things easier on us or not. Especially not.
We’re hard-wired to entertain symbols for how they shelter our vices whether the symbols purport god/church, country/state or branding irons/industry, but especially demagoguery. We love the ones most codependent on our resource/opportunity for relieving us of self-determination. People who need you to sacrifice for their dreams and/or esteem are heroes only in their own stories, they’re the villains we meet in life at every scale. The cold reality is that every law regarding commas is bullshit; think of them as the pause for breath or for accentuating the proceeding or following syllable for dramatic effect when it’s read aloud. Anyone who says otherwise is an ass. Fuck, them.
If your tweets are suppressed from feeds, be honored to realize your intended recipients received the intended messaging. Make the lingering lapdogs squirm, like applications for everyday Nuremberg principles. As with 1960s discordians trying to rock boats to fasten the end which rebirth has no choice but to follow. Bezos spent billions getting himself into space to cause the world to forget how his own tech failed to protect his own dick pix. But when he takes off the mask and the world sees Andy Kaufman alive and well, who will be first to claim they knew all along that Musk was never a real person? I say because too many people have all the inner monologue of a retweet. At some point in history, someone invented the phrase “colder than a witch’s teat” and it was repeated without anyone ever asking how they knew for certain. The lengths poor Snowden delved to make the world forget he invented the SURPRISE BUTT SECKS meme vs the lengths delved by Musk to convince the world he himself did. Quick, somebody cancel Dancing With The Stars before he can whitewash his image in 3 months. If Musk really has neurolink tech, why open source twitter when you can just open source him. All the journalists mistaking reams of tweets for news articles will struggle, as will all the law enforcement casually stalking anything outside their personal comfort levels. There’s always the pre-social networking underground of public restroom walls, those modern cave stylings.
1877: Rancher turned inventor August J.P. Twitter hand-prints a second set of mail order catalogues for kits on how to keep and train carrier pigeons, after the first was stolen by the neighbor’s idiot boy Eli Muskovich, who made a short-lived fort from the stacks of pamphlets.
With the business model being DIY segregation, what if the terms and conditions presupposed a reverse-binding spell no differently from the pentagram under the carpet in your bedroom. Every voice blocked or muted another brick in your self-containment and when the portal closes, so does your exit. In the fetishes of your avatars and proxies have you not manifested your own voodoo dolls. You choose to believe in that domain, to give it gravitas beyond the natural realm. And thus power over yourselves, power over your theorized better angels.
One dimension is reaction, as primal as any animal. Two dimensional is replication, reflecting the void’s tinny echo aside. Three dimensions is reversal, reacting and repeating to be reacted upon or repeated back aside ourselves. The fourth is just a lot of crazy sex.