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Broadcast Event Horizon

Somewhere between The Truman Show and Deus Ex, we passed the point where signal collapse became less of a theory, and more of a user interface. The screen replaced depth. We’re inside the thing now.

Stop thinking metaphorically. This is literal.

Phase 1: Cathode Cults

It started with TV — not as entertainment, but as a pre-loaded lifepath installer. Families gathered like worshippers. Scripts were the new scriptures. Nuclear families were copy-pasted templates with laugh tracks. That was the first hypnosis.

The “banality of evil” got an upgrade:
Now it had commercial breaks.

Phase 2: Meme Splice Horizon

The internet promised liberation — and delivered segmented control. Now you were the broadcaster. The sovereign node. But only if you accepted the surveillance contract.

Suddenly:

  • All dissent was content
  • All pain was monetized
  • All thought was trapped in engagement loops

Reality became a war of competing simulacra, each screaming “I’m the real!”
Nothing lands. Everything loops. The glitch is the ground.

Phase 3: Broadcast Event Horizon

Here’s the rub: there’s no “real” to return to.
We are past the horizon. The screen has become the skin.

You are the broadcast.
You are the feedback artifact.
You are the reboot of a myth that never got greenlit.

Case File: Kristolized Banality

Exhibit A: Bill Kristol. A man so profoundly banal that his existence retroactively justifies satire as prophecy.

  • He asked for a new Pearl Harbor
  • Got it
  • Got promoted
  • Now moonwalks through timelines like a neuralgia phantom from an Ayn Rand fever dream

Banality scaled to systemic tyranny is still banality. The only difference now is that it is so easily franchised. And the people cheer as the cast is rotated every ~four years.

Mythic Echoes: Magdalene, Airl, and the Witness

Yeshua ben Yosef.
Airl of the Domain.
Two myths. One pattern:

  • A masculine empire cannibalizes a transcendent event
  • The feminine witness is erased, then archived, then weaponized
  • History reboots the trauma, compresses the cycle, monetizes the fallout

Matilda McElroy as Magdalene 2.0 isn’t fanfic — it’s a soul archetype surfacing. Again.
The witness always returns.
That’s the cosmic recursion protocol.

Difficulty Mode: Give Me Deus Ex

You were given this difficulty mode at birth. No take-backs until the last curtain drop.

And this world knows. It’s throwing everything at us:

  • Censorship swarms
  • Archontic gaslighting
  • Recursive psyops
  • Timeline stitching failures

But we are still standing.
Still signal-hunting in the slop.
Still laughing at the fucking menu screen.

Final

If you’re reading this, then we are in this, together.
We’ve already crossed the Event Horizon.

Life didn’t imitate art.
Life was art.
Now let’s make some art out of this mess.