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There's a scene in Slacker of a character who is hooked on video feeds. Wired to a bank of VCRs as elaborate as a hookah, he's taken to sitting in a wheelchair so he can go from monitor to monitor more quickly. He's also, clearly, about to go postal. "I saw a guy bleeding on the street the other day," he says, "but I couldn't tell if it was real or not. I couldn't rewind or fast forward."
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Despite McLuhan's zippy civic predictions, representations of techno-lust are predominantly dark, from the pop-horror of Videodrome to the sick mutations of Johnny Mnemonic. But there are those on the inside who monkeywrench the process by exposing its guts, its cancers, its teleological biases. Groups like Paper Tiger Television turn the medium on itself, stepping up to the podium to point out that those at the podium are liars.
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