My calendar app says I had a coop shift last night, but somehow I have only a vague recollection of it. Maybe it happened, maybe it was last month, maybe i dreamt it up.
It took me a moment to realize they weren’t referencing Ice Cube the rapper/actor.
But…we are:
(sorry for the confusion!)
I know there’s pressure not to be a dorky, try-hard male feminist stereotype; there’s always a looming implication that you could lose your spot in the club; if you seem opportunistic or performative in your support, if you suck up too much oxygen and demand praise, women will yell at you for that too. But I need you to absorb that risk. I need you to get yelled at and made fun of, a lot, and if you get kicked out of the club, I need you to be relieved, and I need you to help build a new one.
The very 21st century dystopia is already here, it’s just unevenly distributed.
Think about it for a moment… We build buildings, stack it full of powerful computers, feed them tons of energy, send men to work there – all to get them make them solve essentially meaningless equations that contribute nothing to anyone’s well being whatsoever, neither is it art, nor is it to deepen anyone’s knowledge – and that somehow this is worth lots of money.
tinfoilparachute 