Resist it all you want in a secluded anti-commercial cave somewhere, but Instant Telepresencing Interactivity is the future of communications technology and popular behavior.
People are not just reading words. Or just talking out loud to earwrap mics. Everybody who's anybody is repeatedly mulimediating themselves in infotainment blissed out co-identities.
When the Machines told us they were all now compatibly connected and reasonably reliable, we eventually realized that this meant that We Are Connected. Then, we started talking to each other. The technology grew dim and dusky, passing for full-throttle invisible in some stations.
We had nothing to sell or shill. We weren't out to trick anybody or hurt anything. We reveled and relaxed in our impoverished paradise of legendary benevolent exploration and common concern. We hooked up in serious, professional, and tribal configurations with liberated idealism, satirical lyricism, and dialectical immaterialism as our lofty low-fi goals.
It's all different now.
But we hardcore radical tech types keep finding new holes to osmotically perpetrate. You can feel the tidal waves pulling you now into the Instant Telepresencing Interactivity Future I have shyly decreed as the Inviolable Mercurial Mandate.
Blogs will now remain and evolve into the Super Attenuated Touchy Feely Machines of the Post Hypervirts. We will be able to manifest our entire, revised, or selected portion controlled selves to our participatory audience, comment contributors, email pen pals, widget operators, download funnelers, ghost pollers, and user-viewers, in multiple digital dimensions.
We will formulate digital surrogates in the form of RSS and permanently out-of-the-office autovoxes. As emancipated ematiated mail delivery messengers, we drift out of sight on heavily mined pools of text soup.
But our customers are laughing at our Virtual Assistant telling programmed jokes, downloading a PDF and an mp3, and watching two of our video presentations simultaneously while a podcast of your rock band's latest demo is playing in Odeo as the background collage sprinkled with Google Chat box mayhem thread hallucinations and your VoIP is bleeping twilight zoney phantom tones with your email inbox exploding with voice juice.