#Welcome To the Future
Listen. I fuck with Pepsi Cola Corporation hard. I mean, sometimes I say, “oh I got blood in my DIET DEW STREAM”, and then fucking hate myself for my lame jokes. But I swear! I swear to Zeus and Aphrodite if I got a Pepsi ad in the middle of rewatching Guardians for Galaxy for the Nth time I would frisbee that fucking TV off the first drunken, stumbling neighbor I could find.
Why wouldn’t Apple use its seemingly financial clout to cobble together its own web TV service? Why wouldn’t they?!
Big-ups to Amazon. They’re reverse-engineering the IntangiFuture. Everyone is sloughing their corporeal forms and Amazon is worrying about “Brick and Mortar” and “Places to GO.” To go! Holy fuck, Amazon. I love you because despite being a blight and a curse on small stores everywhere, you allow me to buy trade paperbacks of Saga at villainously low-prices, at 2 a.m. Drunk. And covered in fluids.
Netflix is looking to cut itself out a hunky, chunky, delicious portion of debt pie. The company wants to take on $1 Billion in debt so it can give us a fourth season of House of Cards. On a real rocket. In fucking space.
‘Cause everybody is down with a fucking virtual-reality-augmented-reality-altered-reality-something-reality headset of their own these days. Microsoft’s iteration is more holodeck than it is virtual reality. And like Oculus Rift and all the others it seems cool enough, yeah, okay, but I’m not dying to own one.
Uh. Not that I pirate. I simply would not! But if I were to pirate shitty albums and movies and stuff that didn’t deserve my hard earned bucks (or poorly efforted bucks) I would be excited about this.
I want to totally shed the cumbersome boundaries of my currency’s corporeal form for Bitcoins. But then I read about some shit like this. Hax the planet, braj! Or at least hack all the fucking Bitcoin exchanges!
Fuck Internet Explorer! Yeah! I ain’t used that since 1994, and that was just so I could download Netscape. And I been using that browser since! But man, maybe I’ll get back into the Microsoft browser game. Crazier things have happened. I thought I had sworn off snorting frozen Mountain Dew shards and…here we are. Gutted nostrils and crying loved ones. Whatever.
And you all wonder why I’m always wearing my stretchy winter mittens. In the summer. In the winter. Sure they’re covered in crusty, withering flakes of my DNA. Sure my hands smell like eggs and mistakes. But at least them hackers won’t have my fucking fingerprints.
MAKE MINE SNOW CRASH, YA FUCKS! Neal Stephenson has joined an augmented-reality company as their fucking Chief Futurist. And it doesn’t lead to me hanging out in the Black Sun, it’s a colossal fucking disappointment.