We wake up to find that it is real. We keep waking up to the same nightmare. The dream has variations, but it's always the same boozy double-vision and lack of soul-credit. Always the spiritual Bouncers and Tax Inspectors. Always the beating and screwing. And always the same goddamn Sentence. Always that "will not be" that can't be and yet is, oh my, is.Ah yes, the spiritual future: here it comes, both barrels blazing—look out! Assume the position. Here it comes, the virtual future, the genetically modified future, where the majestic summit of human hope and endeavor will be a consolation dry hump on Prom Night from the date you didn't even want to go with in the first place. This is the way the world ends, not with a bang but with a simulated bang, a virtual fuck, an endless, fleshless friction that exhausts desire: Romeo Cock and Juliette Pussy forever divided by a thin synthetic wall of meaningless slogans and purely rhetorical principles, just like Republicans and Democrats
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