021. Orson Welles the Internet

So hey, here's what's gonna happen. You and me? We're going to Orson Welles the internet. Do you know what that means? No? Orson Welles, rockstar filmmaker and gentleman owner of a quite respectable salt & pepper beard, freaked american households all the way from F to UCK in the beginning of the last century.

All he needed was a medium with widespread reach and a taste for the theatrical. Orson Welles first megaphone was the radio. By presenting H.G Wells War of the Worlds as a series of news bulletins in-between breaks of a far more popular show Orson created at first confusion and then panic amongst american listeners.

We should do this. We should Orson Welles the goddamn internet. How hard can it be? Pick a phenomenon. Zombies, aliens, viruses. Get a bunch of different user names, tie them to separate IP-addresses (or just go to a bunch of different cafés) and start blogging, tweeting, tumblring, flickring fake news. Tie it to some real event (“Drugged up lunatic eats homeless mans face”) and it'll take off.

Presto Panic.

Why you ask?

Hell, I don't know! Maybe because sometimes some things just need a shaking. Rome didn't self-combust. The walls of Jericho didn't just suddenly crumble under their own weight. Somebody instigated that shit. This little shenanigan of ours could upend society. Set in motion waves of mass panic, topple governments and bring on that lush End of The World-fantasy everyones creaming their pants about these days.
Ten years from now you'll hunt game amidst the ruins of midtown and go to sleep under a sky exploding with stars that never shone on a city before. No one will talk about the economy. No one honks in traffic or bumps into you on the subway and then scowls like it was your fault. Maybe it all needs to go down in flames because the world deserves to burn.

Ah, or maybe we just need to do it because it's what Tyler Durden would have done. It's what Jesus tried to do. It's what Superman would do if he couldn't tune out his superhearing and had to listen to people all day. Regular people.

Hell, I don't know. But now's the time to do it.

Luddites and anarchists will come tumble after but it starts with you and me, baby. This is our shot. Let's take this chattering goblin of porn, lolcatz, and men in pencil moustaches blogging about the cider they just made and break the Information Age into a quivering mass of Post-Apocalyptic Hush-Hush.

Zombies? Airborne toxin? Aliens?

Type up. Click send.