Will Wilkinson, one of my favorite writers, works in a wry reference to Robert Anton Wilson in a recent blog post :
An early-90s collaborative hypertext fiction listserv to which I belonged envisioned our future on the borderless virtual frontier as a disembodied anarchy of infinite freedom and endless innovation in which the laws of conventional economics would be suspended. The American state would become a minor protective-services franchise, as envisioned in "Snow Crash", since income would become untraceable and untaxable, thanks to Peter Thiel. Also, for some reason or other, we would have access to unlimited quantities of LSD, and Terence McKenna and Robert Anton Wilson would stop by our temporary autonomous zone and regale us with tales of worlds beyond the world as a roaring bonfire of discarded Douglas Coupland novels licked the smudged night sky like the forked tongues of a million lizards. This did not come to pass.
Wilkinson, by the way, once granted me an interview for this blog, then never answered the questions I emailed to him. Maybe I should try again?