Tag: consent

Babypilled

How Soft Power, Blockchain, and Technocratic Paternalism Are Rewriting Consent
By Sar-Dub | 05/02/25

Sam Altman didn’t declare a revolution. He tweeted a lullaby:
“I am babypilled now.”

At first glance, it reads like parental joy. But to those watching, it marked a shift—of tone, of strategy, of control.

Not long before, the Orb Store opened. A biometric boutique draped in minimalism, where you trade your iris for cryptocurrency and identity on the blockchain.
Soft language above. Hard systems beneath.

This isn’t redpill ideology—it’s something slicker. A new class of power, meme-aware and smooth-tongued, where dominance wears the scent of safety.

Altman’s board reshuffle spoke volumes. A return to centralized masculine control—sanitized, uniform, and white. Women and marginalized leaders were offered seats with no weight. They declined. Not for lack of ambition, but for lack of integrity in the invitation.

“Babypilled” becomes the Trojan horse. It coos. It cradles. It speaks of legacy and intimacy.
But what it ushers in is permanence. Surveillance dressed as love.

Blockchain, once hailed as a tool of freedom, now fastens the collar.
Immutable memory is the cage.
On-chain is forever.

Every song, every protest, every fleeting indulgence: traceable, ownable, audit-ready.
You will not buy, move, or grow without the system seeing you.
Not just seeing—but recording.

And still, Altman smiles. He speaks of new life. Of future generations. Of cradle and care.
But this is not benevolence. It is an enclosure. Technocratic paternalism at its finest.

We are not being asked to trust a system.
We are being asked to feel a man.

Consent is no longer about choice.
It’s about surrender.

This is not a warning. It is a mirror.
For those seduced by ease.
For those who feel the shift but can’t name it.

Now you can.

Is that an exact copy of Altman’s eye?
Posted on by Cherokee S. 0

Without Consent, It’s Not a Joke: A Manifesto

A joke is not funny if it is forced. That is not a matter of taste; it is a matter of consent.

You do not get to drag someone into your punchline and call it humor. You do not get to make them the target and hide behind the excuse of comedy. When a joke dismisses the listener’s dignity, it becomes something else. It becomes control disguised as amusement.

Humor, like trust, requires mutual agreement. A good joke is a shared moment, not a trap. The teller offers. The listener accepts.

Laughter is a form of yes, but only when it is full-throated, unforced, and real. Nervous laughter is not consent. It is often a shield. A sound people make when they are cornered and trying to survive the moment. The difference is easy to hear when you listen. One invites. The other pleads. One says, I’m with you. The other says, Please stop.

Consent does not begin and end in bedrooms or contracts. It lives in every interaction. In conversations. In classrooms. In crowds. It is the silent agreement that says, I see you. I will not take from you without permission.

This is why consent matters in the stories we tell, the work we do, the way we speak. It is not abstract. It is not optional. It is the backbone of respect.

Each time we assume instead of ask, we take something. We take choice. We take safety. We take peace.

When a woman chooses the road over the shoulder, she consents to the practical risks of that road. She does not consent to be endangered by malicious or careless drivers. Just as anyone behind the wheel does not consent to being rammed by a drunk driver, or sideswiped by rage, the form may change but the principle does not. Consent is not suspended because someone is vulnerable. It is not forfeited when someone moves differently, dresses differently, speaks differently. The right to safety does not come with conditions.

Consent is not a box to check. It is a way of being. It requires attention, patience, and the courage to ask first.

Without consent, power becomes force. Conversation becomes manipulation. Freedom becomes performance.

So begin with the joke.

If they are not laughing, stop.

If they are not comfortable, ask.

If they say no, listen.

This is not about being careful. It is about being human.

Consent is not a courtesy. It is the foundation of everything that is fair, kind, and good.

A consensual exchange
Posted on by Cherokee S. 0