Surprisingly relevant observation to a thread about Twitter: “The best jokes made by Big Accounts are probably stuff they copied, unattributed, from a meme or some Small Account…”
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What is happening right now is probably too much like market socialism for EM. He believes that the capitalist class should control the working classes for our own good, and that means having the illusion of choice as we stay on twitter.
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longish interview, not just a stub.
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Looking at some of the Twitter (I assume standard template) communications in or linked to in that article I can see that they have fired the QA people - so many typos!
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For giggles, I booted up ZeroNet to take another look.
A void with loose posts by conspiracy nuts blowing in the wind. So, no change. 
Apparently the developer walked away from the project a couple years ago. Other people forked it, and they walked away. One of the main zites has ~100 peers, and the rest have less. It’s done. Maybe it had some Golden Age, maybe there’s some hidden corner with worthwhile content… Naaaah!
I suspect the people who work on the project finally look at the type of people using it and have this reaction:
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“It’ll cost you three weeks of production. You can ask me why after the meeting, if you like. Gotta warn you - it’s techy.”
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It’s a bit of a shame, because ZeroNet had some good ideas, like using DHT, torrents, and not shackling the protocols to DNS.
I can see a number of problems with it, but the main one is the lack of a big obvious block button for users and sites, the other side of freeze peach.
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A quote from Watchmen seems relevant here:
‘Do that’, Rorschach? I’m not a comic book villain. Do you seriously think I would explain my master stroke to you if there were even the slightest possibility you could affect the outcome? I triggered it 35 minutes ago.
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It wouldn’t surprise me if EM thinks he is the real world Ozymandias.
He might end up being it too, but not in the way he expects.
I met a traveller from an antique land
Who said: Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
Stand in the desart
Near them, on the sand,
Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown,
And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command,
Tell that its sculptor well those passions read
Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,
The hand that mocked them and the heart that fed:
And on the pedestal these words appear:
“My name is Ozymandias, king of kings:
Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!”
Nothing beside remains. Round the decay
Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare
The lone and level sands stretch far away.
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I know that you’ve already seen it, but for those who haven’t:
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