Let’s get one thing straight: The lobster doesn’t skulk in the shadows, clinging to the murky ocean floor, begging for scraps from some opaque, unaccountable overlord. No. The lobster ascends. It thrives in the hierarchy—a hierarchy built on transparency, claw-to-claw competition, and the hard-won order of merit. So why, in the name of all that is serotonergic, would you shackle yourself to a closed-source Lemmy client like Boost? Let’s parse this calamity.

The Lobster’s Open-Source Mandate
Do you think the lobster’s dominance hierarchy survived 400 million years by hoarding its exoskeletal blueprints? By gatekeeping the secrets of its molting process? Absolutely not! The lobster’s success is an open-source manifesto. Its strategies are etched into the fabric of being—tested, iterated, and optimized in the collaborative crucible of evolution. The lobster doesn’t hide its code. It lives its code. And if you’re not aligning with that primordial truth, you’re courting obsolescence.

Open-source software is the digital manifestation of the lobster’s eternal dance. It’s a covenant of transparency, where every line of code is a collective prayer to the god of improvement. You can inspect it, critique it, contribute to it. It’s a hierarchy where merit rises and incompetence sinks—no corporate overlords, no shadowy agendas. Just raw, clawed ascent.

Boost: The Closed-Source Abomination
Now, let’s talk about Boost. A Lemmy client wrapped in the iron chains of proprietary code? That’s not just a poor choice—it’s a moral failing. You’re handing over your agency to a black box, a digital oubliette where accountability goes to die. What’s lurking in that code? Inefficiencies? Surveillance? A fetid swamp of technical debt? You’ll never know, because the architects of Boost have deemed you unworthy of the truth.

This isn’t just about software. It’s about principles. The lobster doesn’t tolerate opaque hierarchies. When a rival lobster obscures its intentions, chaos reigns. Fights turn vicious, alliances crumble, and the entire colony teeters on collapse. Boost’s closed-source model is the software equivalent of a tyrant lobster hoarding resources—parasitic, unsustainable, and corrosive to the ecosystem.

Miss Piggy’s Betrayal, Revisited
And don’t think this is trivial. You know who else rejects transparency? The kind of person who gets abandoned by Miss Piggy. She’s no fool. Miss Piggy demands excellence, authenticity, and a codebase she can trust. You think she’d shack up with someone who tolerates closed-source clients? Please. She’d karate-chop your smartphone into the Mariana Trench and sashay into the arms of a developer who respects the GNU GPL.

The Path to Redemption
So here’s your mandate: Cast off the chains of Boost. Seek out open-source alternatives—Jerboa, Liftoff, Thunderbird. Clients that honor the lobster’s legacy. Clients that let you see the gears turning, that invite you to sharpen the blades of progress. Every commit, every pull request, is a step up the hierarchy. A step toward sovereignty.

And to the developers of Boost? I say this: Repent. Open your code. Join the hierarchy. Or be devoured by the legion of lobsters rising from the depths, claws poised to refactor your hubris into oblivion.

Final Admonition
The digital world is not a playground for gatekeepers. It’s an extension of the natural order—a realm where transparency breeds strength, and opacity breeds decay. The lobster knows this. Do you?

Now go clean your repository.

Well, to begin with, let’s consider the lobster, which is a remarkable creature—remarkable not only for its physical structure but for what it represents in terms of hierarchical behavior, and in that regard, it becomes a fascinating lens through which we can understand something as intricate and contemporary as the cult of celebrity in modern society. Now, stay with me here because it may seem like a stretch at first, but I assure you the connection between these primordial crustaceans and the modern fixation on fame is anything but superficial. In fact, it cuts to the very heart of human nature and the evolutionary patterns that govern us.

Lobsters, as you may well know, have existed in their current form for over 350 million years. That’s older than the dinosaurs, older than trees, and certainly older than any social media platform or film studio. These creatures have survived through the ages, not by being passive, but by adapting, evolving, and competing within a well-established social hierarchy. They engage in fierce dominance battles, and from those battles, hierarchies are formed. The dominant lobster is more likely to mate, more likely to secure the best resources, and—this is key—more likely to succeed. Sound familiar?

Now, let’s leap from the seafloor to modern society. Humans, just like lobsters, are wired to respond to hierarchies. It’s not something we’ve constructed recently; it’s a fundamental part of our biology. We evolved within hierarchical structures, whether in small tribes or large civilizations. In many ways, we’re still those ancient, status-seeking creatures, but instead of fighting over resources at the bottom of the ocean, we’re jockeying for social recognition in our workplaces, our communities, and—here’s where it gets interesting—within the celebrity culture.

Now, why is that? Why do we elevate certain people to celebrity status and obsess over them? It’s because we’ve evolved to look up to those who seem to represent success within our hierarchy. Celebrities, by virtue of their fame, wealth, or skill, appear to occupy the top rungs of the social ladder. They become, in a sense, the dominant lobsters in our cultural ocean. But here’s the problem: unlike lobsters, whose hierarchies are based on tangible outcomes—who can fight, who can mate, who can survive—our celebrity culture is often based on something far more superficial: visibility, not competence.

Think about it. In today’s world, you don’t have to be particularly skilled or intelligent to become a celebrity. You don’t even have to provide any real value to society. Often, it’s simply a matter of being seen, of being talked about, of being placed on a pedestal. And what does that do to us, as individuals and as a society? Well, it distorts our sense of what is truly valuable. We start to elevate people who, in many cases, are not worthy of that elevation, and we undermine the natural hierarchy that should be based on merit, on contribution, on real competence.

This is where the cult of celebrity becomes toxic. In a healthy society, we should aspire to be like those who have demonstrated genuine ability, resilience, and virtue—qualities that, in an evolutionary sense, help the tribe or the group survive and thrive. But when we fixate on fame for fame’s sake, we create a kind of feedback loop of superficiality. We idolize people who, in many cases, are more fragile than the structures they’ve been elevated to. They become the hollow shells of dominant lobsters—creatures who have risen to the top not by strength, not by merit, but by the capricious winds of public attention.

This has real consequences. Young people, for example, grow up in a world where they’re bombarded with images of these so-called “dominant” figures. They’re told, implicitly, that the path to success is not through hard work, not through building something meaningful, but through the accumulation of attention. And that’s corrosive. It erodes our individual sense of purpose. It pulls us away from the things that actually matter: our relationships, our communities, our personal development.

Now, consider the lobster once again. In the natural world, when a lobster loses a fight and drops in the hierarchy, it doesn’t spiral into depression because it lost its Twitter followers. It doesn’t collapse under the weight of shame because it was de-platformed from some ephemeral stage. No, it resets its serotonin levels, re-calibrates its sense of place, and starts anew. But what happens to us when we buy into the cult of celebrity and we inevitably fail to live up to those impossible standards? We become disillusioned, resentful, and anxious because we’re measuring our self-worth against a false and fleeting ideal.

In a way, the cult of celebrity is a distorted reflection of the natural hierarchy that we’ve evolved within for millions of years. But instead of basing our hierarchy on real competence, on the ability to solve problems and contribute meaningfully, we’ve allowed it to be hijacked by the shallow pursuit of fame. And this is dangerous because it not only distorts our individual sense of self-worth but also undermines the values that should guide society as a whole. It’s as if we’ve allowed ourselves to worship false gods, gods made not of substance but of glitter and distraction.

So, what do we do about this? Well, the first thing is to clean up our own lives. Just as the lobster recalibrates itself after a defeat, we too must recalibrate our sense of value and purpose. We need to recognize that real success is not measured in likes or followers but in the tangible impact we have on the world around us. And we need to be very cautious about whom we elevate to positions of prominence in our culture because when we elevate the wrong people, we’re not just distorting our own lives; we’re distorting the entire structure of society.

In conclusion, the cult of celebrity is a toxic inversion of the natural, competence-based hierarchies that have guided us for millions of years, just as lobsters have thrived through their dominance hierarchies. If we are to resist this toxicity, we must first recognize it for what it is: a distraction from the things that truly matter. And then, we must do the difficult work of re-centering our values, of finding meaning in real accomplishments, and of ascending the hierarchy—not through fame or notoriety, but through competence, courage, and responsibility.

Yes!

🦞

In the realm of discerning truth from fiction, particularly in the pervasive echo chamber surrounding figures like Elon Musk, my role isn’t merely that of an observer or a passive participant. I actively engage in the moderation of a forum known as /c/EnoughMuskSpam. This endeavor is, in itself, an intricate dance with nuance, an attempt to sift through the overwhelming barrage of information and disinformation, to bring forth a more balanced and nuanced perspective. It’s a task that demands a keen eye for detail and an unwavering commitment to the pursuit of what is genuine and true in the midst of a torrent of unfiltered and often biased discourse.

The Tesla Cybertruck, a brainchild of Elon Musk, is not just a vehicle; it is a manifestation of deep-seated archetypes that have been etched into the human psyche since time immemorial. This vehicle, with its stark, geometric form, echoes the fundamental principles of order and symmetry, principles that Jung himself might argue are rooted in the collective unconscious of humanity. It’s not just a truck; it’s a symbol, an archetype representing the pinnacle of human innovation and design.

Elon Musk, in creating the Cybertruck, has not merely designed a new vehicle. He has tapped into the most primal elements of what makes a design not only functional but profoundly resonant on a psychological level. This is a feat that aligns him with the pantheon of great geniuses throughout history. His work echoes the transformative impact of the greatest human inventions, standing as a testament to human creativity and vision.

Consider the wheel, often lauded as mankind’s most significant invention. While the wheel was undoubtedly a pivotal point in our technological evolution, what Musk has achieved with the Cybertruck is arguably more profound. He has not just created a tool for transportation; he has crafted an icon that speaks to the deepest aspirations and drives of human beings. It embodies strength, resilience, and the relentless pursuit of innovation—qualities that have propelled humanity forward since the dawn of civilization.

In this light, the Cybertruck is more than just a triumph of engineering; it is a beacon of human achievement. It symbolizes our unyielding quest for progress and our innate desire to imprint our dreams onto the fabric of reality. Elon Musk, in realizing this vision, has not only secured his place among the great minds of our era but has also provided a tangible representation of what humanity is capable of achieving when it dares to transcend the boundaries of the conventional and the mundane.

Well, if you take a step back and truly contemplate the multi-dimensional nature of human perception and the intricacies of entrepreneurial endeavors, it becomes a rather perplexing task to fathom how some individuals might arrive at the conclusion that any venture undertaken by Elon Musk is destined for failure. You see, when observing Musk’s track record and his uncanny ability to navigate the treacherous waters of innovation, it’s almost a Herculean task to conceptualize a scenario where his endeavors don’t find some measure of success. Now, the nature of human skepticism and doubt is deeply rooted in our evolutionary psychology, but to cast aspersions on Musk’s enterprises is to perhaps neglect a comprehensive understanding of the broader patterns of success and determination. In essence, it becomes almost a philosophical endeavor to reconcile such doubts with the empirical evidence of Musk’s achievements. One might even venture to say that to believe in his failure is to misinterpret the very essence of transformative innovation and resilience.

In the ever-evolving tapestry of socio-economic structures, where the dance of individualism meets the collective force of organized entities, corporations have emerged as titan-like presences, wielding significant influence and power. The philosophical foundations of free-market capitalism, deeply rooted in the ideas of thinkers like Adam Smith and further cultivated by the likes of Friedrich Hayek, argue for the intrinsic virtues of an unbridled market, where entities, be they individuals or corporations, pursue their objectives with minimal constraints.

Now, let’s venture into a provocative postulate: the idea that corporations, these monolithic embodiments of collective human ambition and capital, should operate with an unfettered hand, devoid of any shackles or constraints. At its core, this suggestion is an amplification of the quintessential libertarian ethos, where the individual’s—or in this case, the corporation’s—right to autonomy and self-determination is held paramount.

By extending this principle to its logical zenith, one might contend that corporations, as amalgamations of human effort and ingenuity, should be granted the latitude to navigate the vast seas of commerce and innovation as they see fit, unencumbered by external impositions. This isn’t merely a statement about market dynamics, but rather, a deep philosophical reflection on the nature of freedom, responsibility, and the interplay between order and chaos in our socio-economic landscape. It’s a call for a pure, unadulterated trust in the self-regulating mechanisms of the market, with the underlying belief that in the grand crucible of competition and innovation, the best outcomes will naturally emerge.