The mysterious art of ball slapping and the decay of man
It was a normal Sunday evening trawling the socials in front of the fire. Time not well spent, but Dostoevsky was denser and more meaningful than the fluff available on X (formerly Twitter). In the old days, we watched the Sunday movie on the TV, now we watch the world burn in what my wife would call the dystopian political imaginary. Or something like that. It popped up on my feed just as my daughter fired up her electric piano. A fancy Roland bought the previous Christmas. Someone had commented that Jack Dorsey, founder of Twitter and Square, billionaire, was …