Noun
misosophy (uncountable)
A hatred of wisdom. antonym
Antonym: philosophy
Balkanization or Balkanisation is the process involving the fragmentation of an area, country, or region into multiple smaller and hostile units
To be in a time where it gets more and more difficult to even communicate with the tools that are meant to enable borderless exchange between peoples. So now it is it the Misosophy of the internet age. As the repeat syndrome of what is seen on a screen where we deliver all our best words to a machine that discards and harvests, with no repayment for calories spent investing in to the homogenised sendentry life. Where we all say
“Oh well its just the way it is.” Like being fed a poison is apart of societies etiquette to maintain stasis.
That love of the rebel or the mind that will always seek out truth now a true outcast where you just watch the younger generation play with fire and go …..
“Fuck em!”
Not cynically but why offer those who want to learn the hard way anything of wisdom or advice when they know everything from the internet or their mother.
As they’d never take advice unless it came from their source of wisdom through the black cube rectangle LED screen cling wrapping there brains and making there language a cult like devotion. The Politics of Socially engineered brains disfugured by thre need to swipe left or right, up or down, take orders from the ‘stream’ or the ‘feed’. Where there is no realness to the world just more lazy and femininst ideals leading to a very sick society afraid of anything that seems like learning the hard way.
Looking at the world of a million traps and voids where the common person is outsided by having a contrary to popular opnion. The only positive being that when the gap gets too big the weakest fall into their created void first.
The Misosophy Mantra of the smoke and mirror digital reality.
So keep eating your facile perfected images of unattainability.
Keep injecting your face with the fat of the land polluted with irrationality.
Worship the twerking devils of the screen.
Imbibe all your fervour and devotion beyond a normal religion replicated to the screen.
Suck your entertainment through whatever holes go undersea into the medusa server sheds pitted across the graveyards of cold lifeless vistas.
Keep playing that victim card that steals agency for being able to make your own way through life without any mental controls.
Play the demons chorus on the repeat imitate and don’t innovate.
Forget any struggle and hardship, just keep chewing on the softest ice-cream while the world continues to produce saccarine visions from third world slave labour gristle and bone piled into a heap, milled and refined into the all you can eat.
Don’t rebel and find the path to your own divine self free from all politics and lower drives that only give momentary pleasure.
Bow and scrape your knee to all the latest tragedy in anger tearful avatar emoji reductions of your digital hand held cult.
Sell your soul to the machine of dating apps and or the greasy digital stripper pole of your aging destiny, cured only by silicone, scalpels and plastic.
Become that circuit against nature’s paved paradise put up an e-charging parking lot.
Sing wildly at the digital moon waxing and waning with the dumbshow of your own reflection.
A gossimer of status of symbols that meaning forgot, like the tapping crow at the yawning graves wooden cross.
Your mortal clock goes Tik Tok.