It is no mere coincidence that the world began to shrink during the middlemost-point of the adolescence of Ryantology...the tendrils of true religious acumen and sophistication began to worm their way into the mind of the primogenial Ryconoclast in that essential, palindromic year 1991.
As well, the birth of an approaching acronym, the soon-applauded WWW prefix, was short-sighted as pertaining to some "World Wide Web", when, in fact, said jubilacious jargon truly stood as an admission of Past Wrongs - covered up by a vast conspiracy of anti-confirmists and history-deniers, all spider-webs to the tarantula of Evolutionary Treachery - while also revealing the attempted-acquiescence of those who were tRYing to right said wrongs:
We Were Worse.
And though we were, no matter; spilt milk is the last adage a Ryantologist would sully his efficient Ryconoclastic mind with, no matter the sweetness of the tears wept. Moreover, the significance of the internet’s exordium was entirely lost on both Idealites & Pragmantarians alike, as this technological advancement was vitiated with millions upon millions of "fan sites" and developmentally-disadvantageous "nudie pics"...which was, to share another favourite Ryantologist proverb, "fair enough".
As a group, those adherents to Ryantology know now what that incipient Ryconoclast was eruditely forming in his too-besieged brain in 1991: acknowledgment that We Were Worse shouldn’t lead us collectively to the "utopia" of We Are Better; rather, it should lead us backwards, to when theoretical-anarchy was the fall-back, the default-setting, where questions were asked, and then asked again, if for no other reason than to annoy the questioned, where acceptance came with a shit-eating grin, where information wasn’t glossed-over and forgotten by peons with attention-spans comparable to fifteen jackrabbits on crystal-meth...to a place that never existed exactly the way that it’s just been described, but a place that nevertheless has the capacity TO exist.
To do this, we need, nay, must Make Matters Worse.
And by just reading this, by some miraculous equation of mathematical-madness, you’re halfway there.
Congratulations!
