Mostly I'm just fascinated by how fucking terrifying Hologram Tupac is. The uncanny-valley effect at work here is massive, and the rendered Tupac would feel intensely wrong even if it weren't an animation of someone who'd been violently murdered at a young age under exceedingly iffy circumstances.
But when you factor in the morbid profit-motivated side of the equation, the whole effort comes together to form something like a symphony of bad taste—the dizzying scale of the Hologram Tupac project's tackiness approaches something like art. I think about someone being hired to write the copy for Hologram Tupac's ersatz ad-libbed greeting and some voice-over actor being hired to speak it, and the fact that it actually happened in the real world seems impossible. It's like something out of a William Gibson novel, only with the pathetic dehumanized-by-capitalism spin of a George Saunders story. We have touched the future and it is gross and creepy.
It's 2012, everybody. Bring on the Mayan asteroids or whatever. Hologram Tupac for President of the End of the World.