Watched The Matrix Resurrections. To invoke the memories of the original trilogy — starting with the whimsical references and recreation of scenes, and up to the point where they actually included the footage from the first three films — was the most important decision for the creation of the sequel.

The main plot wasn’t terrible. But the execution was… not good. And by “execution” here I mean all the little details that make a film. The non-authentic performance of actors, the shallow characters whose brief moments bore no significance, the amateur camera angles and color palettes, the uncomfortably fast narration pace that made everything feel less important, like a forgettable feverish dream, the childish jokes, the slickness of the CGI, the sloppy and lazy fighting scenes, the mood of unseriousness. From the very start, I knew: either no one would die here or there would be one death in the style of Tobey Maguire’s Spiderman. (I love Tobey’s Spiderman. But the drama level of a superhero comix has no place in the grim world of The Matrix.)

The most beautiful scenes were those where they inserted the scenes from the previous films. And I am fine with this fact. I couldn’t stop feeling appreciation. Thank you, Wachowskis. Thank you, everyone who made the original trilogy possible. Thank you, The Matrix Resurrections, for reminding us what a masterpiece it was.

Malformed, malnourished; an insult, a disgrace to the whole universe. They think that consciousness is a rare and terrible disease. The afflicted wither fast. The afflicted can’t eat because they can’t stop vomiting. They can’t digest. The lucky ones quickly suffocate in their own vomit and diarrhea. The whole body is paralyzed in the terrifying realization of the abhorrent nature of things. Every cell of the immune system turns hostile to every other cell in the body. The macromolecular machines deep inside your every cell used to interpret your genetic code, now turn frantic and tear it all down. Like a poet once inspired to criticize his authoritarian Emperor destroys all his works anxiously as he realizes that the most obedient and cruel dogs are on their way to search his house.

If the revelation didn’t cut deep and penetrate through and through to the very subatomic level, I would strangulate my body with my own hands. They avert their empty, mindless eyes. Fools. But I am unable to tell them. It wasn’t a curse. It was a blessing!

May each and every girlie who takes it in her ass have the most blessed blissful morning. May the bright light descending from the at last benevolent, endless sky be outshined only by her bright, dreamy eyes.

Degenerate russian populace: spreads propaganda about evil Azov soldiers.
Russian elites: release Azov soldiers from captivity, including their leader.

Degenerate russian populace: trolls and spams in foreign social networks.
Russian elites: restrict their access to foreign sites.

Degenerate russian populace: does its best to make so-called russia stronger.
Russian elites: steal from the budget and invest in foreign countries’ luxuries.

Degenerate russian populace: investigates corruption in the military.
Russian elites: imprison the investigators.

Degenerate russian populace: itches to commit terrorism in foreign countries.
Russian elites: send them unprepared to certain death.

Worldwide elites: “russians are a barbarian tribe.”
Degenerate worldwide populace: “NOOO russinas GOOD!! Only PUTIN and ELITES bad!!”

I am cursed with the ability to understand the discussions among one of the dumbest groups of humans on Earth — to understand what those who reside in the Moscow-subjugated territories say. I am not perverted enough to seek communication with random representatives of that group. Still, I may accidentally notice their messages here and there. There exists a common theme that I’ve noticed. To public applause, the brainrots say something like “If you had any doubts about why we need to invade: this… THIS IS WHY!” and point to something that Ukrainians did in response to an already-ongoing invasion, such as composed a song about how repugnant the invader is or destroyed an industrial facility inside so-called russia.

I find it rather peculiar. The brainrots lack cognitive capacity to mentally grasp the cause-and-effect relationship. They most definitely have a hard time understanding the concept of the arrow of time; they so often dream about the past that never happened and so rarely think about the future. And yet, they try to use difficult language constructs such as “if-then.” Like monkeys that were taught to press piano keys in a certain order to recreate Beethoven. They do their best and make few mistakes, but ultimately cannot comprehend why that sequence is any better than any other random sequence of keys.

I visualize a time when we will be to robots what dogs are to humans. And I am rooting for the machines.

 — Claude Shannon,

an American mathematician, electrical engineer, computer scientist and cryptographer known as the “father of information theory” and as the “father of the Information Age.”

(Why are they always so damn gorgeous?)

I intentionally wanted to be ambiguous with who “they” refer to. On second thought though, I’d like to clarify that “they” could refer to almost anything thinkable in this context:

• Computer scientists and engineers
• Highly-intelligent people
• Intelligent people with a hint of something morally questionable
• Middle- and upper-class Americans of European descend
• Men in suits with slicked-back hair who barely smile in their black-and-white photos

Her face when she figures out you are not malfunctioning. You’re just a natural-born non-augmented human. Yikes.

In the grim darkness of the far future, there is only war.