HCwDB Self Portraits: A Consequence of Technology
As humanity reacts to the rapidly developing technological age, there are many wondrous facets of development that incur.
New forms of interactivity.
Exciting modes of communication and representation that produce new iterations of identity grounded not in the physical, but in the imagined and spectral.
New networks of information no longer bound by region or language. Mirrors of tangential connection in the virtual spectrum. A buzzing and alive network of collective thought refracting shards of ideas and fragments in channels of a-chronological and disassembled pathways.
New avenues of thinking open up. A revolution of idea and concept.
And, of course, douchey self-portraits in mirrors. A sub-strata of the need to validate the real through the virtual in Debord’s society of the spectacle.
I’ll give this guy a notta / go in peace cause other than being in the mirror pic, he’s made no major violations. And if that’s what it takes to fondle that round ass, you gotta do what you gotta do.
I’d eat her peach. Twice.
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Son
Perhaps. Maybe a notta, but the point is the mirror self-portrait: A self-indulgent peek into grooming products on bathroom counters, hotel hallways and living room backgrounds melded with the confusion of where to look by the slap happy, clueless morons that take them.
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There’s always many attempts at finding the “right” shot and usually the series is posted on Facebook for us all to roll our collective eyes
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It’s the technology version of backing into parking spaces instead of straight in which is the car version of tribal arm tatts, an attempt at individuality by joining the inked crowd for the sake of joining the ink crowd. I BACK into parking spaces, what’s your problem? It’s wrong and you suck. Hard
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MIrror self-portraits continue society down the path of ignorance started by Rap, full sleeve tatts, the Metal Mullisha, county tax handouts to multi-child unmarried mothers and illegals ( The 2 million person San Bernardino County has over 60% of it’s population on some sort of government subsidy) , texting, Ebonics, tramp stamps tweeting , The NBA, Farmville, Grand Theft Auto and lastly , mohawk hairdos for elementary students.
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People need to stop trying to be counter culture unless you’ve truly got a new/interesting idea (see: Quinten Tarrantino, Edward Van Halen, Willie Nelson, John Waters, Tim Burton , David Foster Wallace, Liz Meriwether, Bob Marley, Jenji Kohan, David Milch, Dennis Franzen, Jay Freakin’ Louis amongst other grounbreakers).
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Until then, piss off
Add Butch Walker to that list of incredible talents. Here is dropping in on “Daryl’s House“:
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opps, I meant , Jonathan Franzen . Mixed him up with Andy Sipowicz
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LOL at me. Vicodin rules
The prime result of the increased interactivity and instant communication is the realization of just how many assholes populate this blue pebble.
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Bomb Shelter
Well said DB1, Well said.
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Man o man Hermit would have a field day with this. As a matter of fact I offer a Hermit screed that I have in my Hermit scrap book that reflected on something similar to this. See below.
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“Their cell phones and “social media” have become an extension of themselves and a poor substitute for meaningful face-to-face relationships. Poisoned by a constant intravenous drip of useless electronic information, they’re no longer living, breathing humans, but more a series of soulless, digital images. They are members of a post-industrial non-culture. Their self-worth is reduced to the number of so-called “friends” accumulated on face book.
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They are an entire generation, relegated to bits of data traveling at a frenetic pace, but going nowhere. A legion of pathetic, frog raping propagates, devoid of warmth, lacking in spirit and incapable of meaningful speech. No longer capable of expressing feelings beyond their own self-indulgent whims and desires. Philosophic thought is no deeper than what can be displayed in a one-hundred-forty character message displayed on the cell phone screen.
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Their trivial messages travel between metallic towers, looking down upon them with ominous, blinking eyes and are then beamed up to hovering, faceless satellites orbiting the earth like buzzing flies drawn to the stench of a dying carcass. These encoded non-thoughts are beamed back again through a series of technological advances traveling through space at light-speed, but wholly devoid of substance.
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Every time you hear an incoming text message alert or that inane Twitter® birdcall, you’re listening to the sound of societal unraveling.”
^As seen here it’s a must read
http://hotchickswithdouchebags.com/2011/10/friday-thoughts-and-links-138/#comments
Digital douchbaggery.
This was a timely kind of observation when Hermit broke it down way back when. Well imitation IS flattery I suppose. Well done again Hermit if you’re out there.
Douche digitery.
He’s a douchebag. He said “hey baby, let’s take a pic — you hold the camera, I’ll look ~willing~ to be in the photo.”
I’m going to invent an app so I can zap out the use-age of iphone cameras when I see a douche in a mirror for the 4,679th time.
We’re too far removed from our own humanity. We have no idea where our food comes from. We don’t know our neighbors. Governments are turning into corporate oligarchies all over the world. And no one cares, as long as the cable bill gets paid and the bottle service keeps coming.
Kill your smartphone. Unplug your TV. Take the media out of being social. Plant a garden. And most importantly: boobies. That’s all I got. I hate these kinds of pictures.
Was teaching my foreign students about Lief Ericsson.
Son.
To think those guys back in the day circumnavigated the globe with no GPS,,,just the stars and rudimentary tools.
Yeah,,,we’ve evolved,,,,cough cough,
What puzzles me about these photos is the total detachment of its subjects…they don’t know where to look. The photo is supposed to be of them, but their gaze is averted, their posture closing off to the viewer….This paring, like some digital-age Mary and Joseph gaze fondly at the Christ-phone-child in wonderment, as we, the shepherds, watch from a distance.
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I’m just waiting for that cow whose manger it is to come along and kick one of them in the ribs.
I suddenly crave a cup of coffee.