Big Bright Green Pleasure Machine

Props to Simon St Laurent for passing this along. I recommend this site for anyone who needs a shot of fake schadenfreude.

Though I've never been hip or a hipster, lately I've begun to reflect on the fact I've spent most of my life naively and blissfully unaware of the extraordinarily large percentage of things I've admired, believed or followed that turned out to be fake. It seems to me that a creeping awareness of this was part of the early Sixties kick to the collective head that was quickly put to sleep by the market's astute filling of the void with new fakesters saying all the sayings that made us feel collective about our insights, thus faking us out once again.

I wonder how long any culture can tolerate being awake and aware of it's own state of fraudulent flatulence. We learned lucid dreaming only to realize that lucid wakefulness is really very painful. We self-medicate with purchasing power and will break any moral code, any promise made, any self-assurance of our own coherent being to increase our power to purchase another dose of cultural homeopathy, quack grunt control.

As Paul Simon sang, "a big bright green pleasure machine".