Shok One

In 2011, all communication in the world will take place via Myspace. The human genoform has mutated ... adapted to it's new habitat. The limbs have atrophied, the vocal chords withered to a thread. We are pale, limbless invertebrates, approaching pure concept. Rupert Murdoch has become an immortal god figure, a vast, planet-sized flatulent hairy brain hanging in the immeasurable nothingness of media space. We will reproduce digitally, via friends requests. Women will have evolved into inflated arsecheeks with a USB port to market them. Googleflops of bad bands swarm around the Murdochoform, absorbing genetically modified opinions like flies around freshly-laid dog shit ... but there is no more dog shit. Dogs have become nothing more than a concept - they only exist as a text string in a list of "interests". In fact, nothing exists anymore. Life has become a low-resolution jpg and you don't belong to you : copyright of your existence, your every thought pattern and consequence, was signed away at the point of your conception. You are just an idea. A bad idea. An unoriginal thought transcribed in plain text format........... Someone draw this for me. I can't be arsed.