A Manifesto
10'ish minute read... Try Not to Fall Asleep
You've stepped into Alexander Dolly's world.
Blaak Museum.
This is your house. Make yourself home.
I don't have a "remove your shoes" policy.
Drinks are in the fridge—probiotic sodas, sparkling water, wine.
The good stuff is on the top shelf. Or, I can whip up a mean Old Fashioned or Manhattan if your prefer that.
Let the anxiety you carried in from the world outside fade. I know these are scary times. Uneasiness hangs in the air. AI is arriving hot and loud, and no one seems quite sure if its friend or foe. Best not to say that too loudly. Machines are good listeners.
Come—sit.
I saved the best chair for you. It’s dated but comfortable. Had it steam-cleaned last week. The pillows came from an estate sale. They’ve lived well in some grandma's family room.
If you don’t mind Frenchies, Gia will likely fall asleep at your feet. She snores. Occasionally farts. You’ll forgive her.
So—how have you been?
...
I’ve been wrestling.
2025 bruised most of us. Frustration had me dancing a little to close to the edge of my own sanity watching our fellow creatives slowly file down their uniqueness.
We've successfully optimized our work, our taste, our identities to our detriment, slowly evolving into mass-produced drones.
There’s a fog rolling in, you feel it?
A fog of meaninglessness settling over our work, our sense of self, our digital lives.
Somewhere along the way, we bent the knee.
Swore quiet fealty to systems that reward sameness. We produce at scale, but the work is spiritually flatlined. Non trustworthy. Forgettable.
Am I suppose to feel upbeat about A.I joining the party?
I know and I'm sorry to begin this conversation complaining but is it me or is there another word for human as of 2026. A synonym, if you will.
"Interchangeable"
We're becoming spare parts. Plug me out, plug you in – the great Entrepreneurship Machine hums on, none the wiser.
I wonder. Would the world miss a beat if we didn't torch what makes us gnarly? What if we were all different? Individual? Uniquely human? Uninterchangeable?
Instead of this Sea of Sameness muck we find ourselves sledging through like Atreyu's horse Artax.
Have a glance outside...
We dress, think, speak, and create with the terrified uniformity of a plump herd that smells the slaughterhouse. We use the same font. Same filters. Shout the same opinions.
We’re not individuals. We’re options in a dropdown menu. Society and the desire to conform handed us a script written in binary and called it culture.
We're figments in conformity's bland imagination. Xeroxes or Xeroxes. Sentinels dispatched from Mastermold's chest.
Every YouTube thumbnail broadcasts the same sat-on-a-fork face, following the Mr Beast playbook to Clickville Valhalla™.
Instagram accounts? Highly curated and art directed.
And fashion?
Don’t get me started.
Everything is oversized. Oversized and logo'd if you're loud.
Oversized and aggressively plain if you're "quiet luxury" and want scrollers to know you paid more to look like you paid less.
MEH!!!
Society basically shoved a script into our faces...
Here's your smartphone.
Here's your social media account.
Here's your athleisure, or jorts (pick your poison).
Look left. Look right. See what everyone's obsessed with today? Go do that...
Like Roman centurions we march in formation right into the Sea of Sameness, a billion souls drowning in a lukewarm bath of someone else’s “best practices.”
But here’s the twist in this decades long horror show. The curveball my great enemy conformity didn’t account for... I’m a terrible cog.
Perhaps you too?
Call it a crisis but meaning is thinning out.
Trust is evaporating.
Individuality is treated as a liability.
And AI hasn’t even fully shown its face.
So the real question emerges. The machines are coming.
What will make us human in the age of AI?
What happens to creativity, culture, and identity when machines can replicate almost everything—except lived perspective?
That's the Northstar this world will chase. Blaak Museum is a repository of human culture, identity and creativity that I will build in real time and defend with an old rusty shotgun.
If you feel interchangeable—
If conformity exhausts you—
If you’re wondering what meaning looks like in an AI-abundant world—
Welcome
II. AN ORIGIN STORY (Because Every Gnarly Tale Has One)
Once upon a time a shoe was made by a shoemaker.
Not The Shoemaker. A shoemaker. One of thousands.
Back in the day the Earth was littered with them. Shoemakers of all colors, languages and social status. Each one made shoes a little differently. A weird stitch here. A curve that leaned left. The unmistakable fingerprint of a mind who learned from another mind who may have been slightly drunk on moonshine. The artifacts we bought, objects we wore had personality.
Our work was meaningful.
Then came the machines.
The machines didn't want craftsmen. Craftsman are annoying. They have opinions. They're unpredictable. They want wild things like "creative fulfillment." They have opinions. Viewpoints. They modify things. Improve them. They become.
The machines needed something else entirely: units of production.
Hands that moved in organized rhythm. Minds that asked zero questions. Bodies that showed up at the first bell and left at the second bell and never once wondered, "Hey, why are there bells?"
So we built factories. Soul-hungry factories that needed constant feeding.
And because factories need to gorge themselves on fresh meat, we built schools.
III. THE SCHOOL THAT WAS DEFINITELY A FACTORY
Our enemy has an origin point. I looked it up. An old friend, Google, told me so. Type in "A Factory Prussia."
You'll find it: a 19th-century blueprint for the human soul. An education system designed not for enlightenment, but for compliance. Its goal was simple: produce obedient, interchangeable products – parts for the upcoming Great Industrial Machine. Humans were that product.
Bells. Rows. Desks all facing forward. One right answer. One central authority poofed into existence seemingly overnight.
Prussia's Factory school was the perfect training program for producing interchangeable human cogs.
We we're programmed to think a single letter grade described our value. We were taught:
Sit still
Wait your turn. We were taught our worth can be calculated
The Factory School spread like COVID-19, disguised as "progress." England adopted it. America imported it (we import everything). We called it opportunity. And look, for a minute there, it kinda was. Kids in coal mines learned to read. Farmers' daughters became teachers. Laborers' sons became engineers. But the hidden lesson, the one written in invisible ink on every chalkboard, was this.
You are valuable only if you are productive.
You are good only if you are obedient.
You are creative… only to an extent.
We inherited a lie and mistook it for truth.
Work = Worth
Our job title became our identity. Our productivity, our soul.
IV. The New Factory (It Fits in Your Pocket)
The Factory has a new model. One that doesn't reek of smoke nor oil. It's silent, sleek, and lives in your back pocket.
The Algorithm. It doesn't shout orders. It studies your every gesture. The last flicker of your uniqueness and gently recommends it away. It wats you average. Predictable. Consumable.
Sameness is efficient. Profitable. The Factory School trained us to obey bells. The algo trains us to obey feeds.
Dress like this. Think like this. Create this.
V. The Glitch (This Is Where You Come In)
I was born with a glitch. A faulty wire. A deep, howling mad need for uniqueness.
I'm insatiably curious. Always wondering. Always wandering. In a constant state of becoming.
I stubbornly buck conformity, social norms of many sorts.
I suppose this glitch really isn't a bug. It's the only feature in my operating system that really matters.
Blaak Museum is my glitch, played out here on open forum. It’s my chronicle of becoming Uninterchangeable. And it is an invitation.
Sameness is a choice. Meaningless is a choice. Both will destroy most creatives once A.I really learns to stand, think and run.
The question, now that you’ve heard my gripe, is simple:
Do you have the glitch, too?
If so, hang out for a while. Let's build the only remaining human skillset – a unique, sovereign, well-lived human perspective.
I can't promise anything but I have a feeling our unique worldview will become our future economy.