European eels which occasionally frequent the river Thames are evidently acting up, and scientists believe this is due to excessive levels of cocaine in the waters. In a world where charges of fake news are laundered and trafficked heavily, this is a real thing that is actually happening.
Found on Drudge today is this story about concerns that deep fake videos might nastily play in the oncoming political campaign cycle stateside. Also found at Drudge is this related story, concerning the Sundance premiere of a new documentary showcasing somehow never before seen footage of the Apollo 11 space mission. I’m voting that this is an effort by producers of deep fake vids at testing the waters of the public’s susceptibility.
These are real matters worth stressing and obsessing over.
As opposed to the sentiments of this op/ed over at Bleeding Cool. Tom Chang gathers and adds upon comments from comic book big heads offended by remarks made by comedian Bill Maher, in regards to what passes for their passion in life. Some commenters cite Alan Moore as an exception to what Maher was saying, but most of the interviews he’s granted in recent years would lead us to believe Moore would actually agree with Maher in this case. In fact, I believe it was on Bleeding Cool just a few years ago, where a Moore interview was discussed, with pages and pages that followed in its forums with comic fans throwing their defensive hate at Moore for daring to frown on the medium. Capitalism will never be challenged, much less booted from off the face of the Earth, as long as its products and byproducts continue to be fetished with religious fervor. To be a fan of any aspect of the manufactured culture which abounds, means nothing more than that such a person responds really, really, really well to marketing. Not only is its defense insisting that make-believe is as viscerally important as actual experience, but it replaces the potentialities of personal identity with what’s ultimately cover songs and fan fiction. I love Alan Moore’s writing, his prose in particular, but I would never define myself by his fictions, and I fervently believe that my own verbose dissections of this universe are of far greater and more legitimate importance than anything with his name attached, because the terms “fake” and “fiction” are synonymous. It’s not real. This world is increasingly screwed explicitly because western civilization grows its own escapisms, permitting even the theft of entire nations to be conducted in broad fucking daylight while its own peoples cling to their fantasies. The wonders of the universe are all the inspiration anyone needs, regardless of what marketing informs us. I define myself not by what appeals to me, but by the results of my own damn bruises and victories, my dreams and my nightmares. My loves lost and my questions unanswered. If all of pop culture were to abruptly vanish, I would still be the same exact person living my life the same exact way. Same goes were it never to have existed at all.