It’s a show that used to come on Nick at Nite as I was going to bed. It had that fat chick and that lesbian that put her hands on her hips, and a really catchy opening song. 

🎵You take the good you take the bad you take them both and there you have, the facts of life, doo doo, the facts of life, doo doo🎵.

Every night I would wake up with visions of bugs falling through the ceiling, spiders on my arms, and scorpions on my bed. I remember jumping up out of bed because I saw a scorpion scuttle across it and under my pillow, in North Carolina. In retrospect these bug dreams were mini vision quests, sent from God to deliver a message to a would-be prophet, but this prophet was 8 years old, and he needed his rest so he could go to school and answer multiple choice questions about slavery and martin luther king and other very important topics.

I don’t actually know anything about geography, or politics, or finance, so I’d be lying if I said “the geopolitical situation is tense” or “the macro looks bad,” but one thing I do understand is vibes, and the vibes are atrocious, folks. Really bad vibes. Maybe it won’t be this ukraine/russia thing, but some spillover from it. I don’t know history either, but I know WWI started with the assassination of some goofy guy with a goofy name from some goofy country no one cares about, and the second one started when some goofy guy with a goofy mustache made some goofy decisions about some other goofy countries no one cares about. This leaves us no choice. WWIII will be goofy.

We can divide society into 2 camps: those who will eat the bugs and those who say they won’t eat the bugs but eventually will. Democracy was a mistake. Extending the vote to everyone was a career ending injury. The average IQ of the voters dropped when this happened, and extending the vote to women changed not only the IQ, but the vibes. Voting became more about emotion, about the way policies make you feel, rather than what they do. It’s not about consequences, it’s about feelings. Now we’re stuck in our respective bubbles of emotion, and we’re supposed to base our entire identities around what team we’re on. Forget the consequences, stay on your side of the field. You either agree that women can have penises too, or you want all trannies to die. You can dehumanize babies so that sacrificing them becomes casual, or you can elevate a clump of cells to the level of humanity. Take your pick.

It’s not hard to see where it all went wrong, nor that there’s no way out of this. Everything is vibes, and vibes are waves. Sometimes the wave is high and sometimes it’s low. I didn’t do well in math but that is my understanding of waves, and right now we’re riding the wave down, and we need to reach the bottom before we can go back up. It’s simple, and it’s uncaring, because it’s math. Everyone is an action hero in their own movie. I will not eat the bugs, they say. We need to do something about Tornado Cash. Someone should, not me, but someone. Something. As long as we have high-speed internet and Pornhub, nobody’s doing anything. They’ve already started sneaking bugs into your food, and you’ll eat it because that’s all there is, as long as you can watch retarded teenagers spread their holes for you whenever you want. Eventually the food will be all bugs, until one day the power goes out, and doesn’t come back on, and the people that said they would never eat the bugs realize they lost the war because they didn’t even show up.

When we’re all eating bugs and tallying our social credits at the bottom of this wave we’re riding together, that’s your cue. Gather your micro-plastic infused brothers, gear up with 3D printed weaponry, and head out to the front lines. It’s basically Call of Duty. You won’t respawn, but at least you can say you tried. After exhausting all other options, you finally took a stand. It’s over for us all, and I know that, because God gave me visions of bugs while falling asleep to the Facts of Life on Nick at Nite.

It’s a show that used to come on Nick at Nite as I was going to bed. It had that fat chick and that lesbian that put her hands on her hips, and a really catchy opening song. 

🎵You take the good you take the bad you take them both and there you have, the facts of life, doo doo, the facts of life, doo doo🎵.

Every night I would wake up with visions of bugs falling through the ceiling, spiders on my arms, and scorpions on my bed. I remember jumping up out of bed because I saw a scorpion scuttle across it and under my pillow, in North Carolina. In retrospect these bug dreams were mini vision quests, sent from God to deliver a message to a would-be prophet, but this prophet was 8 years old, and he needed his rest so he could go to school and answer multiple choice questions about slavery and martin luther king and other very important topics.

I don’t actually know anything about geography, or politics, or finance, so I’d be lying if I said “the geopolitical situation is tense” or “the macro looks bad,” but one thing I do understand is vibes, and the vibes are atrocious, folks. Really bad vibes. Maybe it won’t be this ukraine/russia thing, but some spillover from it. I don’t know history either, but I know WWI started with the assassination of some goofy guy with a goofy name from some goofy country no one cares about, and the second one started when some goofy guy with a goofy mustache made some goofy decisions about some other goofy countries no one cares about. This leaves us no choice. WWIII will be goofy.

We can divide society into 2 camps: those who will eat the bugs and those who say they won’t eat the bugs but eventually will. Democracy was a mistake. Extending the vote to everyone was a career ending injury. The average IQ of the voters dropped when this happened, and extending the vote to women changed not only the IQ, but the vibes. Voting became more about emotion, about the way policies make you feel, rather than what they do. It’s not about consequences, it’s about feelings. Now we’re stuck in our respective bubbles of emotion, and we’re supposed to base our entire identities around what team we’re on. Forget the consequences, stay on your side of the field. You either agree that women can have penises too, or you want all trannies to die. You can dehumanize babies so that sacrificing them becomes casual, or you can elevate a clump of cells to the level of humanity. Take your pick.

It’s not hard to see where it all went wrong, nor that there’s no way out of this. Everything is vibes, and vibes are waves. Sometimes the wave is high and sometimes it’s low. I didn’t do well in math but that is my understanding of waves, and right now we’re riding the wave down, and we need to reach the bottom before we can go back up. It’s simple, and it’s uncaring, because it’s math. Everyone is an action hero in their own movie. I will not eat the bugs, they say. We need to do something about Tornado Cash. Someone should, not me, but someone. Something. As long as we have high-speed internet and Pornhub, nobody’s doing anything. They’ve already started sneaking bugs into your food, and you’ll eat it because that’s all there is, as long as you can watch retarded teenagers spread their holes for you whenever you want. Eventually the food will be all bugs, until one day the power goes out, and doesn’t come back on, and the people that said they would never eat the bugs realize they lost the war because they didn’t even show up.

When we’re all eating bugs and tallying our social credits at the bottom of this wave we’re riding together, that’s your cue. Gather your micro-plastic infused brothers, gear up with 3D printed weaponry, and head out to the front lines. It’s basically Call of Duty. You won’t respawn, but at least you can say you tried. After exhausting all other options, you finally took a stand. It’s over for us all, and I know that, because God gave me visions of bugs while falling asleep to the Facts of Life on Nick at Nite.