Like Debord’s Society of the Spectacle, we seem to be living in a virtual realm. A world of avatars. A world lived increasingly online. A world where a virus of no more real-world consequence than a common flu has nonetheless rent society asunder. A world of flexed deltoids and narcissistic selfies proudly proclaiming I got my #clotshot and anyone who hasn’t ought to be ashamed. A world unhinged from reality. Perhaps we’re in that godawful Wittowski film, but in reverse. Instead of waking up from the matrix, we’ve awoken inside it. We’ve gone from the material to the virtual. The simulacra has changed places with the real.
The Year The World Ended
The Year The World Ended
The Year The World Ended
Like Debord’s Society of the Spectacle, we seem to be living in a virtual realm. A world of avatars. A world lived increasingly online. A world where a virus of no more real-world consequence than a common flu has nonetheless rent society asunder. A world of flexed deltoids and narcissistic selfies proudly proclaiming I got my #clotshot and anyone who hasn’t ought to be ashamed. A world unhinged from reality. Perhaps we’re in that godawful Wittowski film, but in reverse. Instead of waking up from the matrix, we’ve awoken inside it. We’ve gone from the material to the virtual. The simulacra has changed places with the real.