So, I finally get paroled. I get amnestied. Not my pal Claire, unfortunately for her. Claire and our female warden had some kind of personal difficulty, because they'd been college roommates or something -- like, maybe some stolen boyfriend trouble. Something very girly and tenderly personal, all like that -- but in a network society, the power is ALL personal. "The personal is political." You mess with the tender feelings of a network maven, and she's not an objective bureaucrat following the rule of law. She's more like: "To the Bastille with this subhuman irritation!" [src]The thing that I like about this is that it's at the same time mean, unfair, petty, and absolutely and painfully true. This is in fact a fact of life about social networks: Whoever is on top, for whatever really stupid "karmic" reasons, gets to call the shots.
I liked driving my SUV to the mall, whipping out my alligator wallet, and buying myself some hard liquor, a steak dinner, and maybe a stripper. All that awful stuff at the Pottery Barn and Banana Republic, when you never knew "Who the hell was buying that?" That guy was me.The story overall makes me shrug and I won't remember it a few months from now even if someone offered me lots of money and/or karma to do so. But I want to hear more about how the Pottery Barn sells strippers.
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posted by mwhybark at 11:36 PM on June 24, 2010