Bezosification destroyed Art
Did you see his marriage? How was it? Note 1 to 10 on the vulgarity scale.
Bezos is homonym for Kisses in Spanish, in English, Bezos is synonym for vulgarity. Everything that guy touches turns into a fleshy, gelatinous blob. Even going to space has become a fart.
His success encouraged people to transform everything and anything into a pursuit of money production. Almost everyone with a semi-solid soul sold it for pennies. This bald guy, resembling the prototypical villain, has perverted our souls.
Almost everybody fell enchanted at the mirage of grandiose future self, with luxury, fame and revanche on life, which is not enough anymore. Being is no more enough. Look at the villain, he has it all, he knows how to sell things, so let’s prostitute even our greatest unique original talent, the gift we received from God at inception. Let’s sell our mother on Amazon. Let’s find a buyer! Like Bezos!
This has an old name: prostitution!
The merchant logic perverted the scene.
If it doesn’t sell… then it has no value, as if the art expression value stays in its selling appeal.
This is wrong: art and authenticity are not a democracy but an aristocracy.
Brainless masses cannot decide what art is better, though they vote with their money. They understand shit about Plato, that’s why they prefer to buy Pla(to)yboy.
Even here on Substack, I feel desperation from authentic people vs sharks selling another Instagrammable profile of a bimbo disguised as writer craft, or ultra-processed AI long-dashed annoying platitudes.
Two weeks in, I had some hope for Substack; the hope of the first Airbnbers, sharing their couch for pennies while making a friend.
Now Airbnb is just another name for Hotel; Substack is already another name for the book aisle at Walmart.
We were again tricked that “this is a thing.”
We were lied to.
Bezos won!
No free kisses available anymore.