What follows is a less original, more incoherent read than 'fore yesterday's textual live-stream on "Status quo takes as in depth analysis" of yet another thing whereon I'ven't been schooled... all adequate, like.
Sit, you way stations!
Guy the Bore put his finger on what was happening then, and given that he had back then gone so far as to correct his scholars that, no, it was, for want of a less befuddling word, a reality, not a prediction of a future one, there are still today no doubt some adherents of his famous/not so famous work, or idiots like myself, who think that the current social medial state of affairs is that reality coming to its rotten fruitful display. Through this I recognize manifold misinterpretation of current affairs, whether it's war being mistaken for what might become war, or personal privilege posing as universal right. As Davey not the Monkee put it in what would have been his only most original work before he bent to whomever's will that his opera'd be butter curtailed & spread with chart-ables (see Eno's A Year with Swollen Appendices), "It is happening now."
Ain'o Facespace 'til'e's gone
Earlier in this century the layperson's crafting of the simulacrum of themselves had been limited by default of social media design. To the rescue came a vast array of googlable hacks who offered the opportunity to "pimp your profile". Those codes, still, were instructions to be followed, but whose freedoms were a promise of greater choice in one's expression of personality. Enter Rupert Muir, Phd, then this, that, & something- something- three bags full of the Mark of the Zucker Berg and, still befuddling to me today albeit in some ways perfectly clear, people prove they'd rather be ruled around by the nose than take the time to actively pretend it might be otherwise. Yeah, I know that this amounts to half a dozen pussies and six dicks battling. Here I am reminded of the promise of the smell of freshly frying liver and onions that prove to be gag-inducing flesh upon the tongue (everysingle (tm)) where there's no dearth of liver lovers.
T'each th'rone
If those marking savory for the sellers of merch twisted their target groups' ability to differentiate between need and desire by sublimating insecurities above all else, then this thing I'm on about regarding tech (see Ad nauseam! Ad nauseam! - 21st century von diary press) is virtual cum veritable voyage from obeisance to oblivion. But as Chick observed, espying Norma lounged in the living room over Norman's would-be concealing shoulder, "You do what you gotta do. But you know she's dead, right?"
DIY Hip Gnosis
Keep in mind that the concept of quenching the concern of collective class consciousness has claims that work as well for & against the shame of having too much as they do quell the insecurity about not having the latest cool shit. There's a brand for everything and even if you intend no brand, in this parlor the artists work for the man. I'd call this the bailiwick of Complex Inc, but the repundancy makes my head hurt.
Escap&trade of the Image Nation
Immovability was founded out of the concerns of all things proprietary, to maintain a share of any corner where the free might take a breath of relief. Each new development is a move to trade on real estate wherever individual headspace roams. Though this is not a problem in and of itself, it is at once presented as such and rendered necessary, branded as being as detrimental as any of our latest viruses and capitalized upon in a way that resembles the scorched earth solution to dialing back the temperature's contribution to the destruction of the planet.
Slowly chipping away
If being mobile means having to take it with you, then someone else's free rein is your attachment. And, sure, want and need are two different things.
