Roman Kalarus
Early Capitalism
they are perfecting the pillow
with which
you are being suffocated
now it sings to you
and shows you picturesJoe Wenderoth
I feel particularly hopeless today, witnessing once more the iron grip that snark and sarcastic detachment have on the Western world: watch parties and memes, anything to signal irreverence and detachment to the spectacle without actually disengaging. Anything to stay seated, determined to remain in the audience, toothless.
This pathetic and urgent need to meme-ify all things—to cope through sarcasm—results from our dependence on entertainment and discomfort with sincerity and vulnerability. Instead of acknowledging that the only way forward is through resistance, we stay. We dig ourselves a comfortable grave from which we can watch the collapse, hoping to be the funniest person in hell.
And all is well, so long as this continues. Because when you’re at home, ass on the couch, tweeting, laughing and most importantly—watching—you are not out in the streets; you are not organizing or reading, you are no threat at all. Even through your ironic detachment, you are still tuning in. You still dignify it through ridicule, still recognize it in jeers. Your smug commentary and sick dunks do not shake the status quo. The ruling class would much prefer you choose derision over revolution.
They have made you clowns and you accept your jester-fate willingly, happily.
It’s a party!
Another opportunity to do nothing.
Thank God, am I right?
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