[GUEST ACCESS MODE: Data is scrambled or limited to provide examples. Make requests using your API key to unlock full data. Check https://lunarcrush.ai/auth for authentication information.]  Copa Ex Machina [@CopaExMachina](/creator/twitter/CopaExMachina) on x 2254 followers Created: 2025-07-10 15:09:38 UTC The more I stew in this cinematic soup, the clearer it gets: the film industry peaked sometime around the late '80s, maybe the early '90s — a glory-dusted golden hour when lunatics and visionaries still ran the asylum. Not understanding where they stood in the history of cinema until it was too late. Ever since then, we've been duping the same goddamn tape, over and over, until the image bleeds static and the soul leaks from out the sprockets. No more grain, no more grit. All that remains is just the hollow ritual of duplication. What was once mythical is now mechanical. No risk, no danger — just the twitching corpse of entertainment, kept alive by committees and IP necromancers. All we do now is make a copy of a copy of a copy never asking why it mattered in the first place. Never curious how it burned. Just blind men fondling shadows in the flicker of a dying projector, hoping to be the last one to squeeze a penny out of a toy. And somewhere, buried under a mountain of test screenings and Funko Pops, the last reel of truth smolders — hissing quietly in the dark — while the suits dance in the smoke, mistaking the fire for applause. XXXXXX engagements  [Post Link](https://x.com/CopaExMachina/status/1943326756183622041)
[GUEST ACCESS MODE: Data is scrambled or limited to provide examples. Make requests using your API key to unlock full data. Check https://lunarcrush.ai/auth for authentication information.]
Copa Ex Machina @CopaExMachina on x 2254 followers
Created: 2025-07-10 15:09:38 UTC
The more I stew in this cinematic soup, the clearer it gets: the film industry peaked sometime around the late '80s, maybe the early '90s — a glory-dusted golden hour when lunatics and visionaries still ran the asylum. Not understanding where they stood in the history of cinema until it was too late.
Ever since then, we've been duping the same goddamn tape, over and over, until the image bleeds static and the soul leaks from out the sprockets. No more grain, no more grit. All that remains is just the hollow ritual of duplication.
What was once mythical is now mechanical. No risk, no danger — just the twitching corpse of entertainment, kept alive by committees and IP necromancers. All we do now is make a copy of a copy of a copy never asking why it mattered in the first place. Never curious how it burned. Just blind men fondling shadows in the flicker of a dying projector, hoping to be the last one to squeeze a penny out of a toy.
And somewhere, buried under a mountain of test screenings and Funko Pops, the last reel of truth smolders — hissing quietly in the dark — while the suits dance in the smoke, mistaking the fire for applause.
XXXXXX engagements
