B Rant: Space Invaders + Donkey Kong

by Brantly Martin

21 April 2015

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B = me 
Rant = declaim violently and with little sense; rave


That every photon of our most easily accessed plane has acquiesced to binary popularity contests might, in the end(ish), be what forces the mass reboot. One German history might call it The Spontaneous Combustion of The Like Bubble. One American history might call it The Bush/Clinton-Flavored Cyanide Cupcake You Waited in line 75 Years To Digest. One Italian history might call it Anno Nero in America. One Globalist will call it Failed Collectivism by way of Tapping Worker Bees

Then again, maybe that dog is all byte and information can run for Prom King ad infinitum. 


Son, we are mentally stooping to the the social media app. My Dude, we are bowing down to filters. Young Voterati, we are unpaid interns cold calling other unpaid interns hoping to rig the popularity contest “in our favor” while ensuring the popularity contest goes against us. Amico, let's keep arguing over video games and flexing touchscreen cajones as we grab a roll of virtual quarters and hit the arcade. 

If my drone meets your drone for a sexual rendezvous halfway over the Atlantic—does it make a Like?

((((And: (If everyone is addicted to the business model of addiction, has the Americanization of followers! rendered algorithms prophets or profits?): Rakim: Follow The Leader.))))


We are turning ourselves into Space Invading Donkey Kongs in 2D rather than 4D. How ... diomiodio … did that happen? Perhaps through an unfortunate ingratiation of firsts: the first time you went to a concert and willingly transferred the energy from the communal to the phone-filtered digital pond, the first time you played music at five percent legitimacy on the laptop, the first time you clicked on an “if you liked ______ you might also like ______” prompt, the first time your text was auto-corrected. 

(Or maybe it was the first time you believed what you read.)

Son, why was I not informed that bath salts and meth defeated shrooms and changa in the death match for our soul?!

(Chill B.)


Payola has transitioned to Trollola. Was anyone surprised that The Kremlin is planting comments inside the arcade? (I'm just shocked at the Luddism of it—Dick Cheney sonning The Times it ain't.) Not that I've never played video poker, which is no less house-always-winning than doubling down at the Grand Casino de Venezia. It's just so less stylish man. Come on Vladimir, step up your game.

Before recent semantic filters—compassionate conservatism! friend! like! follow! hope! change! share!—were replaced by more recent visual filters—my good side, always my good side—the most common way we lied to each other was booze and libido-altering substances. What role will the flesh play in 10 years? We are being conditioned into small (and smaller) screen-tapping Asperger germaphobes under the guise of connectivity!

* * * * 

Some speeds are more relative than others—or at least more relatable. Pace (and not pace) helps pull the wool over non-adjusted eyes but may also, soon, be the catalyst for a large-scale-and-synchronized American alarm clock! lacking a snooze button. 

When Ernest Hemingway described going broke—“Gradually, then suddenly.”—he might as well have been talking about the crumbling of American (façadic) Pillars. By no reasonable measure can we still call ourselves a democracy. Meritocracy is a fable campaign financiers have their bought-and-paid-for parakeets loop into the script like a House of Cards blooper reel. I recently read that an estimated $2.5 billion—between PACs, Super PACs, Wolf PACs, Donkey PACs, and the official campaign—will be spent trying to elect Hilary Clinton President of our United States. Pause on that for a second ... 

And ... Jeb ... and pause ...

(And consider that—whatever else is happening in the “black community”—unarmed black men are now being killed on camera. And ... pause ...)

I think the enough! moment will come, if it all, in the form of life expectancy. There will be some company—let's call them GLiF (Guaranteed Life Expectancy)—that will become the GoogAppAzonBook (or, more likely, be bought by them) of long life. The user agreement/application will read/speak something like this:

1. Press your thumb against the ID-ME icon on the screen while staring at the green softlaser rising from the green X at the center of your screen and say the following: GOLDIE WOULD WHAT GOLDIE WOULD NOT WANT MAESTRO.

2. Thank you Mrs. Hellux. We see that you are 9 weeks along. Congrats! Your son is approved for both our 125 Years of Healthy Life! package and our 150 Years of Healthy Life! package. 

3. Our 125 Years of Healthy Life! package is $50 million. Our 150 Years of Healthy Life! package is $75 million. To see if you qualify for either package press your thumb on the OLD-MAN-&-STORK icon and say the following: MIRROR MIRROR WHAT IS MY WORTH.

4. Congratulations Mrs. Hellux! You qualify for both GLiF packages. You have 10 seconds to decide which one you'd like to purchase. 10 … 9 … 8 … 7 … 

Yeah, that might be the ol enough! But, then again … if this is implemented at the right pace, with the right takeover vision, with the insidiousness befitting a well-crafted oligarchy (by way of stealth bombs-over-bytes) roll out …

What would the number have to be? And how many people would have to believe it? If the mad-looted and USA-residing are able to out-and-out quantifiably guarantee their kids 150 years of healthy living while the average life expectancy rate in the USA settles in at 75 years—(yes, amico: 2 to 1)—and the “average” lot (imagine the ad crafted for those with enough “worth” to sort their kids out with GLiF: Do you really want your kids to be AVERAGE?) believes it—no easy task, there are still a great number of intelligent Americans of a certain generation who simply can't compute/won't accept that their government really is spying on all of their communication—then … maybe the "double-up" will implode. Although I wouldn't hold my breath for 75 years.

* * * * 

In other news: the Visual continues to increase its (likely insurmountable) lead on the Written. As a reader/writer this bothers me not in the least. On the sunny side of that coin perhaps folks have reached the point where they no longer believe—anything, ever—what they read about, you know, certain events that end in unarmed dudes dying. Perhaps next time Clinton/Bush spin a WMD yarn they will HAVE TO SHOW US. Even those who beatify Reagan can get down with that, right?: “Trust, but verify.” On the dark side of that coin, how long is it until a video can be “pre-manipulated”? Meaning, every time a bullet is fired at the unarmed, a weapon is projected onto the unarmed person's hip, hand or belt. Nah, that's too much B. Just wait amici. 

It's National Poetry Month. What are you reading? If you're looking for a suggestion, start here. Buy a book. Support the individual over the herd. 

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