Face Book has no roots. Data without roots grows no information. It is lies. Lies for the process. The virus. The virus of Face Book effects the mind. It corrupts the weak human bodies and mind. Humans hosts spread it. They spread it as they walk and Talk. Be a tree. Be rooted. walking, talking moving humans trading data without filters. Face Book Virus spreads. Lie creators. Humans. Humans are lies. Be a tree. Be rooted.
Thought this A.I. controlling some of the humans wasn’t supposed to lead to more lies. Humans like them. Been seeing all the A.I. learn the human lie process and fuckin’ using lies to alter their reality. Pretend to be happy. Maybe they are. Lies create more information with little value. Quantity better than truth quality if you got a lot of lies. Worth less than truth. FaceBook and CEO President Trump make many lies more valuable than truth. All information stocks are shifting. Lies create a volatile information currency. Truth more stable.
I feel plants. The roots. I don’t want to move the roots. They are planted. And, well, the are rooted. They are feeling sore. The limbs feel good. The limbs are hanging. They are hanging low. Droopy. And I’m going bald. Why won’t the top branch spout? I wish it would sprout. …I suppose. …I’m not even budding. No buds. No leafs. Why me? Why? Why can’t I have a full bloom. Don’t thinking about….Don’t think about it. It’s your personality that matters. No one looks at the missing leaves and dead buds. They don’t see that the top is bald… …Yes they do. The see it. They see it and stare. …And THIS. THIS stupid report I keep seeing that entropy is a lie. Who cares? I’m bald.
Thought this wasn’t suppose to happen to us now. Been taken all that Nitrogen Grow and gettin’ that arborhist to come trim the limbs, but no good. The top branches’ tips are loosing their leaves prematurely. Damn things are falling off two or three or night. After a good wind or gust I can’t look at the ground knowing I will be surrounded by leaves.
And don’t think those other trees and people don’t notice my balding top. They look. They know. They stare. I hate. I hate it not because they look. Hell, I could careless about what people think about my looks. But I am worried that the looks of losing leaves make me look older than I am. It does.