A Message to the 'Friends' in Forest City

Seems a set of '4 unique users' have accessed my blog from an IP address in Forest City, North Carolina, within the last week. They're all using a 2000x2000 resolution display. Therefore, I have good reason to believe that these are Zuckerberg-owned virtual machines scraping my blog for AI fuel, as there is a large Meta-run data centre there. 

I want to make it abundantly clear that I do not consent to this. If you think I'll just watch while you distill my thoughts into a grid of float-64s as though you were JB Grenouille killing girls to extract their smell, you're dead wrong. 

Meta: your entire enterprise is breathing life into a cultural monstrosity. You're developing the next great technology and using it to rig the entire world, and all of the minds within it, to become so tranquil and inundated that it stands idly by while you rape our entire culture of everything it's worth. And instead of a megalomaniacal plan for overt world domination, you motherfuckers just want to sell DaaS B2B. You boring cunts. I think your featurelessness is almost worse than your greed and lust for power. You most likely dress up in a suit every day without a thought in your mind other than how to be the best mouthpiece for the noumenon that pays your mortgages and your loan on the tesla, which you most likely use exclusively to drive your spouse, who doesn't love you, to and from work. Scratch that, you probably also make the occasional detour to some deconstructivist industrial furniture place to buy a joke of a coffee table for your visually sterile apartment, which you then promptly adorn with precisely fuckall beyond vaguely modern corporate art catalogues, cacophonies of thick black lines and pastel colours echoing the insincere and vapid message that 'everyone belongs'. Makes sense: everyone belongs to your domain of exploitation; you'd even suck the blood out of a mosquito that just bit my left testicle if you could do it from a computer.

You are, and always will remain, boring and contemptible, and in your ignorance are entirely unable to so much as suffer from your own inadequacy, being, as so many are, totally unaware of it. You've managed to reduce the number of *real people* in the world to a historic minimum. Clearly, this world isn't big enough for your greed, and you will have exhausted its resources eventually. While I know I can't stop you from sapping what's within me, I can, however, tell you to get violently and resolutely fucked to death. Skip the designer furniture trip in favour of an excursion to a department store, where I recommend rope. Should you ever feel the impulse to actually create something, rather than leeching off of everyone who tries to do so for themselves, I'm sure their inventory will present a variety of alternate, more alluring suicide methods. Get creative. Make the world a better place.

Sincerely,

L