While others stare in awe at Assange’s many otherworldly aspects -- his hairstyle, his neatness, too-precise speech, his post-national life out of a laptop bag -- I can recognize him as pure triple-A outsider geek. Man, I know a thousand modern weirdos like that, and every single one of them seems to be on my Twitter stream screaming support for Assange because they can recognize him as a brother and a class ally. They are in holy awe of him because, for the first time, their mostly-imaginary and lastingly resentful underclass has landed a serious blow in a public arena. Julian Assange has hacked a superpower.
He didn’t just insult the captain of the global football team; he put spycams in the locker room.