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Maybe death will be far enough away that we won’t notice it anymore; so technological futurism posits — the end of death; or at least the withering away of existential fear. There is no other reason to endure the project of modernity — which reduces Being to Been: the once living, no-longer vital, object exploited by the mechanisms of greed. I write this as my first post behind a “pay-wall” — largely to amuse myself, and to make myself the subject of amusement. All information is currency; all discourse is potential advertising revenue; there is no thought from the outside, no way to communicate to more than a handful of people without submitting one’s communication to the brutal gravitational physics of money. I ask: why should I not make, say, a $1.65 for several months worth of writing? But I can just as easily respond: why bother? Ironically, we all join the system dreaming of leaving the system; of ‘going viral’ — of seeing the advertising revenue from our pathetic media farm suddenly (and magically) shoot up. The pay-wall is more honest I think, because, again, ironically, it is more transparent than free-content; all content longs to be paid for (that is one of the few inextricable laws of the internet) — and all philosophy, ultimately, longs to be content.
