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"If the punchy, claustrophobic anti-sociality of programs in early lockdown proposed a particularly dark vision for the future, the Motion for Black Lives road uprising of the late spring believed like their joyous opposite—another where platforms were responding to and being organized by the events on the ground, rather than these functions being organized by and formed to the requirements of the platforms. This is something worth our time and loyalty, something that surpassed our compulsion to publish, anything that—for a moment, at least—the Twittering Unit could not swallow.

Not that it wasn't trying. As people in the streets toppled statues and fought authorities, persons on the systems modified and refashioned the uprising from a road motion to an item for the consumption and representation of the Twittering Machine. The thing that was occurring off-line would have to be accounted for, identified, judged, and processed. Didactic story-lectures and images of properly stored antiracist bookshelves appeared on Instagram. On Twitter, the usual pundits and pedants jumped up demanding details for every single mantra and justifications for every action. In these matter trolls and answer guys, Seymour's chronophage was literalized. The cultural business does not only consume our time with countless stimulus and algorithmic scrolling; it eats our time by creating and marketing individuals who exist and then be told, visitors to whom the entire world has been created anew every day, people for whom every resolved sociological, medical, and political controversy of modernity should be rehashed, rewritten, and re-accounted, this time with their participation.

These people, making use of their just-asking issues and vapid start letters, are dullards and bores, pettifoggers and casuists, cowards and dissemblers, time-wasters of the worst sort. But Seymour's guide suggests anything worse about people, their Twitter and Facebook interlocutors: That we need to waste our time. That, but significantly we might complain, we discover satisfaction in endless, rounded argument. That we get some kind of happiness from tedious debates about "free speech" and "cancel culture." That individuals find oblivion in discourse. In the machine-flow atemporality of social media marketing, this appears like no good crime. If time is an infinite source, you will want to invest a couple of ages of it with a couple New York Situations op-ed columnists, repairing each of American thought from first axioms? But political and financial and immunological crises heap on one another in series, over the back ground roar of ecological collapse. Time isn't infinite. Nothing people can afford to spend what's remaining of it dallying with the ridiculous and bland."

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