This week the news on the wire speaks doom, all a familiar rhythm on the networks intent on selling us the destruction of our own lives.
Meanwhile my modem hits meltdown and the ether vanishes in to dial tone death speeds. At the same time Obscure drops an upgrade, patching the pages one step closer to the future.
It’s all hot stuff in slow motion loading in my brain one 56k pixel at a time. The radio drones on the about the doom, building neatly to a chorus of epic universal failure. (repeat:epic universal failure).
Is the system so corrupt? Or are we just running in safe mode? A simple backup illusion, not really the ‘really realistic’ version, only ‘we thinks it’s scary’ spoof version.
But I’m reminded why it’s oaky. As the a fire starts in the pile of paper on my desk. It’s warm, like real heat. Friends gather around, they bring the bongos and we sing and dance away the night.
