At last the world has become a comfortable place, atomfractaled waves of singularities, you and me and them. I do mine, you yours, they theirs, in the silk hexagon (SH); who spins but spiders; the world is now home for we eight legged ones.
My singularity was spinning in a corner all these years and now I can websling like the movies.
In this open mike chaos of in the web's fruit market of ideas, anyone can hunt and peck fame crowing and scratching in the barnyard of public esteem.
Humanity wired to the Ubiquitous, all is one, even if it is mostly pigbook, it is remarxable.
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