I want you to start with watching this video first, about Oscar the piece of flesh that assembles back into a, um, uh, watch for yourself and judge:

I’m sure that after watching this video you won’t be visiting KFC anytime soon.

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How I learned to love modular meat and chill with Frankenfood on my couch

I saw a chicken come back to life. Kind of. Sort of. In the same way your ex “changed”.

It twitched.

It pulsed.

It reacted to touch.

But it didn’t have a head, a brain, a heart, or anything remotely resembling “life”. It was a torso in a Tupperware, and I saw it squirming like it had just remembered it still had a subscription to Netflix.

I’m talking about the modular monstrosity in The Modular Body – and that’s a horrible piece of dystopian tech-art project that looks like it’s about bio-innovation, ans some guy named “Cornelis Vlasman” (a.k.a. the Dutch Frankenstein) slaps together organic LEGO pieces in his kitchen sink and calls it science.

So here’s his vision:

So, the ‘star’ of the show is called OSCAR, and he/it/they/them/whatever is a modular, cyber-organic… thingy. It is part meat puppet, part lab project gone haywire, and part vegan’s worst nightmare. When I saw it, OSCAR reminded me of Mr. Potato Head but with veins and a nervous system, and just enough animation to make you question your dinner choices and your God.

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A chicken reborn… with USB ports

Now, this most unholy resurrection since Lazarus, meat-slab OSCAR reacts to touch.

Yup. Ya poke its weird bionic breastplate, and the torso recoils, like it is really pissed you interrupted its soulless nap. No brain, no central nervous system, no heartbeat. Just movement, baby.

It’s the iPad of poultry.

You might say “wow, what a marvel of biotech!”

And I’d say “wow, what a spectacular example of humanity’s need to be bitch-slapped really, really hard by an ethics deity + its demons”.

But now comes a . . . spoiler.

This torso-wiggling turducken isn’t real (more on that in a sec), but people think it is because we are neck deep in a satanic culture that is so horny for disruption that we will accept headless meat spasms as innovation.

The whole project is fake.

It is totally fabricated.

It’s Bio-fiction.

It’s chicken-ish stuff wrapped in biotech aesthetics, packaged like a TED Talk, and served with a side of moral ambiguity. Now this is truly Black Mirror with a Dutch accent, and for the first time in my life, there’s something to be proud of my country. . .

But nobody reads the damn credits.

Nobody checks the source.

We just watch that twitchy torso flop around and whisper to ourselves, “Science is going too far”, as if we weren’t already injecting our kids with ChatGPT lullabies and filming TikToks of car crashes.

This is a masterclass in emotional engineering. The video triggers you, it confuses you, and makes you think that you’ve just witnessed resurrection, and in a way, you have.

Not of the chicken. But of techno-hysteria.

We are not scared because it’s grotesque, but we are scared because we want it to be real. We want lab-grown life. We want modular bodies. We want to plug in consciousness like it’s Spotify Premium. We want to upload Grandma into a meat robot and feed her kibble made of days gone by.

We are the villains in this story. Not “Cornelis.” Not OSCAR. Us, because we keep cheering for innovation without asking what it means.

And if this hunk of meat actually had a soul, it left the moment you hit ‘like’

Signing off,

Marco

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I build AI by day and warn about it by night. I call it job security. Big Tech keeps inflating its promises, and I bring the pins. I call that balance and for me it is also simply therapy.

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