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Cake day: August 27th, 2023

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  • Consolidation fucked them. Optimal economics through the 90s meant maximized seating per screen, and one ticketing / concession apparatus for as many screens as possible. If the theater was in the mall and you were already at the mall, this worked out perfectly. Aaand then everyone bought a big flat television right as Netflix-as-DVD-rental and Netflix-as-streaming-service made home viewing basically effortless… and online shopping finally worked. By 2015 you’d go to a dead mall to sit in a half-empty theater and balk at prices that would nowadays seem quaint.

    Small theaters should be doing okay. But small theaters are mostly dead. Anything old was driven out by the push for growth, and anything new is some boutique horseshit that’s somehow even more expensive.

    You’ve turned the movie-going experience into an event, and people act accordingly. Even when movies were struggling against color television, going to the theater was still dirt cheap and down the street. It’s no longer a convenient way to kill an evening. It’s a commute to a distant box full of strangers, so you can see an overhyped entertainment product that’ll be accessible from your couch in two months.






  • You want to be sold a fantasy.

    it’s about the purity of the expression and it’s intent. Even if the artist is a baby-eating fascist,

    You want to be sold a misleading fantasy. One where poet Yukio Mishima’s virulent backwards-facing nationalism is what makes his synthesis of modern styles… “pure.” That’s a dangerous fantasy even when we’re not slapping the word on genuine fascists. It’s infatuation.

    Motorhead’s “Ace Of Spades” is all about gambling on card games - which singer / songwriter Lemmy Kilmister famously did not give a shit about. Because it turns out… people can write things… that aren’t real. Talented writers don’t need to experience whatever befalls their characters. You can imagine him betting it all on blackjack, but it did not happen. You can imagine him in a pretty pink dress if you like. You can rotate a cow in your mind. It’s free and the government can’t stop you. Why the fuck would you not be able to envision a fictional character unless it’s literally the artist?


  • Inventing that parasocial relation to a JPEG, at first sight, is nuts. Insisting you didn’t experience that rush of wonder when you had no further context is a lie.

    To say it’s less interesting, fine, sure, people don’t like the robot that draws anything you can describe. But people reach for extremes in a way that goes beyond subjectivity, and beyond irrationality, to the point it’s contrarian. Like a teenager tearing posters off their wall and insisting they never liked their favorite band.

    Personally? I’ve loved some albums that it turns out were made by fascist bigots. They’re never getting another cent from me, and I’m less bothered that several of them got shot, but I’m not gonna pretend the music was bad now. If an artist’s suffering and misery are what excites you about a painting of a flower, maybe the fact three people died onstage is a bonus.






  • You said you found it interesting. You can’t make that reaction un-happen. You can only glumly attempt to reclassify it, because this was a machine fantasy, rather than a human one.

    Surely you wouldn’t insist it was a disappointment if it was merely photoshopped or rendered. But because it passed through an autoencoder instead of an image editor, well, that’s fundamentally different… somehow.