Скачать или смотреть Why are new movies so bad? A.I. knows.

Naturally, some of what was said here will require further clarification, because some of you will only want to hear what you want to. So, to Team Equality and the comic-book pedants: please don't shriek about how Captain Diverse America is a "new character," because you'll be missing the point. If it didn't matter, if the portrayal of a widely-known franchise's characters' appearance really was incidental, then that character would, on average, be a predicable reflection of the society in which that character exists, statistical deviations excepted. But we are now beyond the boundaries of error; we are now in a time where a teen-level percentage receives dominant depiction in all advertising, entertainment, and (even) news media. We are IN an overcorrection, where predictions are no longer aligned with the numbers.

The fact has caused a necessary inversion to the average representation, which, by definition, is exclusionary. Representation is a zero-sum game. Wait--don't be angry with me for saying this. No value judgment is here being made. It doesn't bother me as much as you might think, because I see the state as a to-be-expected result of our recent history. I simply want us both to admit that we should expect to see a localized consequence as a result, and as such, I'd urge moderation to both sides of opinion. Action begets reaction, which begets overreaction. But smaller waves can exist within larger waves, and overreaction suffers a regression to the mean. Some waves even cancel out. Eventually dissonance diffuses to become a harmonious calm. On average, everything returns to the average, which is affected little by each new pulse. Every mountain rubbles from wear, and every valley is filled by the process; but the existence of neither peak nor valley can negate the sphere.

All of history's tendency is sinusoidal, and no complex system exists outside of this condition: every raindrop, sand-dune, glistening leaf that cuts the breeze into a whistle, and every beam of light that has ever warmed a morning's air is this way: all exist as a simple reverberation, long ago plucked, and now settling into its endless hum of insignificant consequence. Crunch, crunch, crunch.
[Licks buttery fingers, wipes on pants. Fade out.]