Sunday, May 20, 2007

sonnet 1 by mallarme

I'm feeling kinda funny today.

Must have been that blogocombat joyride I went on last night at Twitter. It's fun exposing the enemies of democracy, user empowerment, markets-as-conversations, consumer revolution, DIY, open source, grassroots activism, and mature discussion.

To call users, customers, and everyday people, like all of us without exception, the Unwashed Masses, the Populace, Mob, Looters, Common Proles...

...what is that? Ayn Randism? WTO Apologists? Atlas Shrugged Stalinism? North Korean Personality Reform?

To be against Of the People, By the People, For the People is to be an enemy of democracy, free expression, and civil liberty.

We must watch very carefully what underlies the belief system that revolts against social media networks, blogs, wikis, Twitter, and other Web 2.0, Web 32.0, InterPlaNet, Internet2, and other tools of web revolution.

The proof that you've hurt a troll's feelings of inferiority and damaged their pseudo self esteem: they abandon the argument, and hurl juvenile barbs at you, like "you need a lobotomy" or "you're f _ _ _ ed" and other angry, temper tantrum tributes.

Two different shots of the dumpster my neighbor has parked in his driveway. Is he moving or just doing Spring cleaning? Slummy. Which obnoxious photo do YOU like best?

Is that Amanda Chapel, aka Brian Connolly pretending to be a North Korean vamp girl, in the left hand corner?

Must be having breakfast, troll-style.

Sonnet 1

When the shadow menaced with its fatal law
That old Dream, desire and pain of my spine,
Grieved at being swallowed in night's black maw
It folded within me its indubitable wing.

O deluxe, ebony hall, where, to beguile a king,
Celebrated garlands are twisted in death:
You are but a proud lie composed of nothing
In the eyes of the solitary dazzled by his faith.

Yes, I know that the Earth, far off from this night,
Casts the radiant mystery of unprecendented light
Which the hideous centuries can never obscure.

Space, unaltered, if it grow or decrease,
Rolls in that boredom vile fires as witness
That genius has been kindled by a festive star.

--Stephane Mallarme

trans. Henry Weinfield
(University of California Press, 1994, p. 66)

Ah, I love the smell of trolls burning early in the morning! Who launched that flame war? We all did. Workin' on it.

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