Fake Shit
am pyrite?!
Have you ever actually paused to consider how fake we are?
It’s a broad statement to be sure.
Thing is, it’s true in pretty much any configuration you can think of.
our bodies
digital media
photography
AI
food
VR
social media
the way we talk to each other
what we say to each other
what we tell ourselves
the past
the future
money
power
plastic
pleather
camouflage
time
reality
news
Trump
You probably get the idea.
I’ve lived in apartments with plastic flooring printed with an image of woodgrain. This is acceptable to most folks because people are often positively affected by the natural world (another fake idea). At least you’d think. But then fake wood is not wood, and you’re an asshole. The closer things are to not being fucked with by us, often the more we feel connected to it. Unless it’s gross or something like shit. We can’t wait to get rid of that. Unless it’s fake! In which case we can find it for sale because it’s hilarious!
Our homes are museums to fakeness. Fake plants, prints, smells, foods, fabrics—all sorts of fake stuff.
Money’s fake as fuck. It literally isn’t real. It’s a token, a stand-in for an idea. Like a check or an IOU. Except in this case, a physical item like a dollar bill is not particularly valuable in and of itself, but is instead representative of value. It’s a symbol. A communication device that works as a wedge between producing something and consuming it.
Here in the land of freedom (fake as fuck) most of what we eat is packed with chemicals derived from delicious stuff like petroleum and wood pulp. Here’s one example.
Octyl acetate.
Sounds fucking delectable. You know what it is? Artificial orange flavoring. And yes, it’s usually derived from petroleum. I just slammed a 16oz energy drink in “Orange Dreamsicle” flavor. The creamy part is also entirely concocted in a lab. That stuff is a mix of the usual petroleum derivative mixed with weird fatty acids. Mmm. Hits the spot.
None of this is news, unless you’re 10 or really, really stupid. But it does warrant some thought.
What the fuck is wrong with is?
You know, when it comes to self-loathing, I think that it should replace the chicken-and-the-egg analogy. Are we filled with self-loathing because we suck so damn hard? Or is there an inherent impulse to find ourselves repellent, which then leads to self-loathing?
The past is fake. It’s not happening anymore. So’s the future. Hasn’t happened yet.
And you, when you get down to it, you’re fake too. Your identification with yourself as something separate from everything else is fraught with fakeiositude. You don’t exist any more than the tree your vinyl flooring was carved out of.
Anyway, this is the kind of stuff I find entertaining.
I don’t really have a point.
Oh and this post is fake too, by the way. It's just a bunch of dots on a screen.
Fake or not, though, this motherfucker is gold.
Or, well, okay, maybe just pyrite.