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Seems like love |
The reason exchanges make people pay 500k+ listing fees is bc all their employees lose 100k/day trading on their own platform |
This is my way of letting you know oxfun listing fees will be increasing again after my performance trading last week |
This is insane lmfao "You're Jewish" with almost 100k likes The Israeli girls are absolutely going to get us holocausted |
I've been trying to tell you people |
SHUT UP WILL AAAAAAAAAAAAAA |
Coiled |
I fell in love with su zhu's sister and she called me a broke white ennword |
Tried explaining "I'm not white, I'm Jewish" but she just slapped me I love her so much more now. I'm going insane |
Buying a full 32-foot sheet of drywall so I can punch holes in things while screaming responsibly |
I have extremely good news for the seven people who like listening to me ramble for 18 hours straight and extremely bad news for everyone else but I have been approved for an effectively unlimited podcasting budget |
Black people used to rap about shooting randoms for fun and now they sing about how slay their g-spot feels with two cocks rubbing it simultaneously |
Wearing three layers of noise-canceling earphones just to make absolutely sure I can't hear a single word of the gym's homo rap |
Women ushered in an era of incel supremacy in zoomer guys by calling every man they looked up to a bitchless virgin incel Every month that goes by they view the terms more positively |
We get it, you don't like him - but calling the richest man in the world bitchless after he publicly single-mothered everyone's favorite popstar with his 27th child is simply too retarded |
The answer to the worm question is no, btw |
More like three arrows crapital 🤣🤣🤣 |
Hmmm... You appear to be experiencing emotional volatility... |
I'm chill with the hitler jokes bros please kill me last |
Samsung is the greatest company in the universe |
Alright I think I can hold it |
Women with expensive androids are so hot it's insane |
Nothing sadder than watching a girl try to sell her ass when there's just zero PMF |
Taipei commute |
"Bro there's not enough liquidity on the coin!!" Chill. It'll have more liquidity when it goes up 10000x |
American women have a three day plan to extract 2 $40 meals from you and Chinese women have a fifteen year plan to groom you into a billionaire who kills their brother |
Her brother deserves it btw |
Why does my first tweet have over one thousand bookmarks |
When is your birthday? |
Home gyms only work for introverts Every extrovert I know who's gotten a home gym completely ruined lifting for themselves |
We're not even giving an explanation for why it works anymore Just "I did this insane thing for no reason and it wound up being epic. Nobody knows why. Here's how you can do it too" |
SCORPIO SZN 🦂🦂🦂 |
October is the best month in the universe and all the other months are in absolute shambles |
Ansem's main strength is completely unrelated to trading He's one of the few people here willing to make conviction bets on newbies he likes. He's almost always right and he defends them when they get hate People remember that when they get big, esp bc it's so rare in crypto |
If I learn Chinese I'm gonna be extremely powerful |
INFINITE MONEY CAP TABLE 💹 |
Ansem doesn't even wanna tweet tickers he just does it cuz whenever he stops I threaten to kill myself. Everyone thinks he's a selfish grifter but he's the most loyal friend I have |
Everything makes so much more sense after Kyle explained the world is divided into the west/asian axis and the russian/arab/indian one |
Telegram groupchat called "trench rapists" with 200 Solana users who spend all day accusing each other of rugging coins as they themselves rip 2% sells on bonkbot |
Zachxbt is massive last-cyclecel energy. When you explain what he does to most of the new entrants this last year they just get confused and ask why anyone cares bc they already conceptualize all coins as scams as a baseline assumption |
People hate dating now bc they have no reason to date Men don't need to commit to have infinite sex, women don't need to commit to get paid and neither need kids to support them at 90 Unless you're lonely (loser) or getting an insane deal it usually doesn't make sense |
Both sexes are perpetually complaining about how the other side has high standards now They're both right If you take away the reasons the average person had for settling down they simply stop doing it |
Angel number |
Doesn't look like he escaped tbh |
Somebody actually managed to giga-tilt me last week and it's been so long since I was genuinely angry I just went around ranting to everyone and basking in the novelty of a rare emotion My one regret is not being able to post about it. Rant YouTuber Lukas went hard |
Nobody actually wants to know who Satoshi is and successfully unveiling bitcoin's creator is one of the few things that could actually rug all of crypto |
She's so perfectly mid it makes her the most beautiful woman in the world |
1 love 2 brothers 3 arrows capital |
Taipei mogs |
Come shit with me, son |
Extremely embarrassing that he knew |
Our Taipei office is the ark If you don't board before it takes off, your entire lineage will be erased forever Many cubicles still remain, but time is running out Better late than dead |
There's a certain shade of pee where you see the color and just know instantly you're gonna be fucked tomorrow |
Nobody is inside your walls, they've been mandating fiberglass insulation fill the gaps in framing for the last like 60 years and that shit absolutely sucks to inhale |
99% chance your opinion on anything in the Middle East is wrong if you can locate a single one of the countries there on a map |
The entire timeline thinks the market is reversing bc of a weekend scam pump again |
Do you guys rember that guy last cycle who ran up like 400k and then celebrated by getting a gf who took a picture of him and posted it to Twitter without realizing the paper on his desk had his seed phrase |
If devs don't hold at least 99% of a coin's supply it means they don't believe in themselves and you shouldn't either |
Satan is a gay loser and he's in hell because I killed him |
I know how to stop Murad btw |
My son got a callback from his audition for the timothee chalamet movie and your son DOESN'T EXIST |
Murad is ansem 2 |
I wasn't lying babe I was doing a novel form of creative writing through a spoken-word medium and it was poetic |
Made a very in-depth joke last night where I told a friend I was going to kill the ceo of a marketmaking firm I don't like and realized I needed to recalibrate immediately bc he took it completely seriously and started explaining why it would be logistically challenging |
The punchline was that he's going to die |
Are the coins good or bad bros I don't even wanna look if they're red |
Control |
There's a certain level of wealth where it doesn't make any sense to ever drive somewhere under 140mph If you make 10k/hour the speeding ticket costs are lower than whatever time you lose getting places at legal speeds |
:3 |
Women have to go back to doing the text emojis ^^, :p, O.o etc completely mog trash like 🤪🤪🥺 |
What's the difference between a token burn of 1% and an assassination of "community members" holding a total of 1% of supply |
Run it back (with or without consent) |
Roll it back wheelchair-mode |
Limp it back |
Many know Taipei 101 for being the tallest building in the world at the time of construction but few mention it looks exactly like 8 Chinese takeout boxes stacked on top of each other |
3AC：去他媽的社區 |
Fuck the community |
Run it back with the investor's consent |
Welcome to a Grassroots Nuclear Holocaust, powered exclusively by a storyteller from an alternate reality that sometimes leaks into our own. Youtube channel for my vids and the Scorchcast: best threads down below: |
Did you know that there is a Chinese person for every single American? Out of the 1.4 billion Chinese people in China, 335 million of them purely exist to be crude doppelgangers of American citizens. Every single American has a Chinese copy. These 335 million Chinese copies live in a massive territory that takes up 1/8th of China, nestled into the vast Gobi desert as a vanity project megacity. It's shaped like the continental United States and they all live in a roughly distributed series of simulacra cities, carrying out the performative fake lives of their assigned copies. The Chinese tiny fake USA is a tourist attraction that Chinese people all visit during Golden Weeks where they can experience touring through America but safely in a more familiar environment. When the real American counterpart dies or gets deported, the Chinese copy retires from Chinese USA and gets to go back to living in China normally as a regular Chinese person. Some of them are relieved about it, some of them are forlorn about giving up their Chinese doppelganger life. If the Chinese copy dies or something happens to them, another doppelganger is ready to immediately take their place and continue the role uninterrupted. Chinese people live in a mixture of constant anxiety and anticipation wondering if one day CCP officials will knock on their apartment door and tell them they need to move to Tiny USA because they were next on a list of candidates resembling an American counterpart. They pack their bags, say goodbye to their families and get shipped off to the Gobi desert to live in one of the most technologically advanced amusement parks in the world. In Chinese Tiny America, the elite impersonators get to live in tour houses at the very forefront of Vegas-like downtown setpieces. They have to work the hardest at acting like their counterparts, usually celebrities or politicians, and have the most interactions with tourists on a daily basis. Most of Chinese Tiny USA is made up of everyday people who merely have to dress like their counterparts and pretend to work fake jobs for a few hours a day. Chinese copies of Americans walk around in setpieces of Shreveport, Louisiana or Cody, Wyoming. Chinese versions of Americans hustle and bustle pretending to work at gas stations or simulating DMV work at miniature downtown Denver, Colorado. None of them speak English, they all babble what their counterparts sound like in a Chinese flavored English sounding gibberish which they learn and develop by studying our conversations through monitoring our lives on spyware hidden inside mobile apps on our phones. Chinese versions of Americans get nestled into giant cube megabuildings like cleaner versions of Kowloon City. They only get to relax for a few hours in the evening, throwing off their Patagonia vests or wigger hoodies or spandex sports bras or blue jeans or graphic t-shirts so they can settle comfortably into flip flops and sandals onto plastic lawn chairs and eat chicken feet while chain smoking and drinking Tsingtao, just so they can finally feel Chinese at the end of the day for but a brief moment. This is the abundance of China. They have the manpower, the resources, and the space to replicate all of America and every American within their vast mysterious landmass which is walled off to the rest of the world. It is a place where Chinese people can go pretend to be in inner cities or eat at Dave and Busters without any of the health hazards which present themselves to Chinese people in real America and with none of the pressures Chinese citizens feel when visiting America, such as having to purchase large swathes of empty condominiums, interacting with fried rice takeout restaurant employee reconnaissance agents, or having to download terabytes of files from college university computers. In Chinese Tiny America anything and everything is possible. Every single American that will ever exist, every single architectural accomplishment, every cuisine, every historical monument, every curated natural attraction, every song, movie, game, book, and staple of experience the United States has to offer, all of it has a little Chinese version to go along with it. If one day AI and androids become advanced enough to take up this role, the Chinese government will not replace your Chinese bizarro counterpart. Instead, they will create an even smaller miniature America where tiny hamster sized robots wearing doll clothes and fake hair will walk around speaking LLM generated speech based off your personality with perfect voice matching. And then the Chinese government will construct an even smaller Chinese America made up of slightly smaller Chinese robots that are trained on the Chinese doppelgangers to imitate the American robots that live in Tinier America, which is located inside of Tiny Chinese America. And those Chinese impersonator robots will live in an even smaller simulated America, it will be called Tiniest America and it will exist next to Tinier America. They will do this because it's cheaper than having to dismantle Chinese Tiny America. They will do this because the displacement of 350 million Chinese people will cause massive disruptions to the Chinese economy and job market. But most importantly, they will do this because they can afford to do it. They have the resources, the space, and the budget to have both real fake America and automated fake America that exists purely to be imitated by the automated Chinese Tiniest America. They can do all of it at the same time and furthermore they'll even create tiny robot versions of every normal Chinese person to visit the Tiniest America every year just like the real Chinese people do to Chinese Tiny America. They will do all of this because they can, and because they think it's really funny. You will never get to visit Synecdoche USA, China. It's only for Chinese people. However, take solace that somewhere inside of it, there's a Chinese version of you doing their best to live the Chinese version of your life. They learn, love, and live alongside Chinese versions of your partners, your family, your friends, your neighbors, your coworkers, and your acquaintances. They imitate your job, they simulate your hobbies, they pretend to eat what you eat, they make themselves cry when you're sad and they force laughter when you're happy. And no matter what happens to you, no matter how low you fall and how high you rise, a Chinese person will always be there with you in spirit. |
You still have time to watch Chinese national treasure on this patriotic Milady Film Club movie night. We just streamed a special message from our President. |
This is awesome. I don’t know how legitimate it is since he has to eat sleep and take shits at some point, but I’m truly hoping he’s actually suffering full blown babbling delusions and not just screaming for the cameras. There should be more of this, it should be more extreme. It isn’t enough, it barely touches the ambrosia of torture that streamers should put themselves through for my amusement. I would watch broccoli haired vape sneaker zoomers be trapped inside walk in freezers for five dollars a minute. Not my dollars though, no, someone else’s dollars. I’d watch it for free. I wouldn’t even watch all of it, just a thirty second highlight clip of the best moments, MAYBE one minute if it’s good stuff. I would watch streamers be tossed inside giant industrial dryers with third degree burns or do challenges where they’re just beaten with logs until they’re unconscious. I would watch them buried alive inside coffins with scorpions while they scream and howl on infrared go pros. I would watch obnoxious little Twitch zoomers be thrown out of helicopters fifty feet above the Pacific Ocean and left there to tread water. I would watch zoomers curled up inside of 3x3x3 boxes with strobe lights and speakers blasting screaming recordings overlaid with Tiny Tim songs at 80 decibels, left there and forgotten about with nothing but a hole for air for 5 days. I would watch content creators be locked inside of a concrete room with a Bengal Tiger or North American grizzly bear that’s been sufficiently starved, armed with nothing more than a four foot rope and a bicycle horn. I would watch streamers cover themselves in gasoline and thermite paste and run around an arena playing one man dodgeball against five crackheads armed with road flares. I would watch galaxy gas trap beats zoomers on Kick being pushed off three story buildings onto piles of rebar and broken cinder blocks. I would watch influencers get duct taped to the inside of a Monte Carlo and sent into concrete pylons at 80 miles an hour. I would watch streamers get shot out of cannons or welded onto the outside of a MiG-29 and exposed to the atmosphere as it passes Mach 1. I wouldn’t even watch all of it tbh, barely any of it if I’m being frank. I’d just want to click into a multi hour stream of one of many of these streamers having this kind of shit done to them, like a throwaway excerpt newsreel in Robocop. I just want to have incoherent screaming cut into my life as a comical interjection with a brief glimpse of diabolical torment and a little timer in the corner that tells me it’s been going on for hours, days, weeks. I want it done on scrupulous Chinese platforms that somehow cheat them out of all of their sufferbucks and blood donations, leaving them in some strange convoluted legal debt that engenders them to do further self exploitive harm for no benefit except a mild chuckle from me. It would be like a prison cube where all of hell is condensed onto the brunt of an immortal soul, screaming louder than the universe itself and yet welded so shut that I neither hear nor see nor know of what goes on inside of it. A pocket dimension of pain reduced to the size of a paper weight, barely vibrating and warm to the touch. One of thousands, stacked into piles and buried in a cube of concrete to sink to the bottom of the ocean while they whir and hum against unflinching total absolute constraint. If I knew shit like this was happening to every streamer all the time forever, I would sleep 30% better. |
Mentally damaged (involved in politics) women love freaking out about their bodily autonomy because it represents the perfect intersection between subconscious fetishism and the addiction to neuroticism that defines their identity. They lash out against their own biological purpose as a hellish prison in which they must suffer. The prospect of reproduction isn’t a natural part of life’s process to them, it is a hellish imposition. To the worldly hag, a womb and fetus is a xenomorph, a parasite growing inside of them rather than a beautiful continuation of self and predecessor. It is the gruesome promise of labor, sacrifice, and time which inconveniences otherwise unmitigated indulgence. It stands to reason that someone so filled with petulance for their ancestors, contempt for their parents, and hate for themselves would be horrified to create a copy, especially at the expense of their own body, time, and effort. When even the act of smiling at a coffee shop job is reduced to an economic unit of emotional labor to be stingily withheld by the leftist materialist, a child must seem like a nuclear bomb of unpayable debt. Yet all this pales in comparison to the psychosexual element of this nightmare fantasy, one which was usefully summarized by the Handmaiden Netflix slop. Essentially, America’s army of mids came forth to proclaim loudly, “Please please please don’t hold us down and rapebreed us!” Over and over again with obnoxious transparency, met with the mildly disgusted indifference of the demographic they demonize. This country’s most unremarkable women obsess over this idea that we’re tracking their periods, we’re trying to figure out their cycles, that we’re hunting them down and forcing them to reproduce because they can’t conflate the reality of their biological programming demanding fulfillment through genetic self perpetuation with the myriad of social signifiers they’ve been taught to uphold. It creates psychological complexes which become transmogrified into political policy. The truth is, what actually horrifies these women far more than some elaborate government mandated impregnation fantasy is something far more sinister. It is an apocalyptic torturous fate which has no recourse through delusion or fantasy. There is no romanticizing it or exaggerating it for entertainment, nor is there some True Crime podcast esque morbid indulgence which can be applied to it. The greatest fear made manifest for women of this caliber is to be ignored. It is their nightmare to be totally ignored, dismissed, overlooked, left behind. To be left alone without even any deliberate focus or afterthought, truly just passed by and left to their own babbling. To have everything they care about, everything they present as their identity, belief, concerns, goals, preferences, personality, and purpose all evaporated into dust through the sheer overwhelming void of indifference. It is a horror which is happening to them every day. |
The other day I saw this person- not even a person some people aren’t really people, can you believe it? I said I couldn’t believe it but it’s completely true. They’re called HYLLLICS folks, they have no souls. They have no souls AND they’re walking around, talking to you like they’re people. You can tell what they are because of the products they purchase and what their IQ levels are. It’s really terrible, but we’re gonna get em out folks. We’re gonna get em all out and Make America Sentient Again. I know I have a soul, I have a very big soul folks. I talked to God the other day and he said, “Donald, you have one of the biggest souls I’ve ever seen.” I mean it’s unbelievable, really incredible stuff. Other people have small souls- it’s true! I couldn’t believe it but it’s true! You know KAMALLLA, she has a small soul folks. It’s completely true, she’s got a small soul, small brain. Not even a person. Can’t even talk without the earpiece, she’s not the vice president. We got a lot of people here in the audience much smarter than her folks, much bigger souls. Much bigger souls, actually people. You’re all actually people, unlike KAMALLLA and Sleepy Joe Biden- they’re not people! They don’t matter! But you matter. They don’t matter though, and they- and you know- they get put in long lines in the afterlife! I’m not kidding, when they die, they wait in line for a million years *swallows saliva through his gums* before they’re even allowed to see limbo. Before they’re even allowed to see it. And if they wanna come back- and you know they really hate being they’re and they want to go back because they know what’s waiting for them- they have to come back as RRROCKS! Rocks, pebbles, raindrops, pieces of dirt. They gotta spend a LLLONG time coming back as people because of what they did, they know what they did. But they’re gonna be gone now and we’re gonna have a really beautiful epoch folks. |
I'd like to point out, Remilia Corporation's entire existence has transpired under a Biden Administration. You have YET to witness what Remilia can do under a Donald Trump presidency. |
God Bless the United States of America. |
One of the most concealed, reviled, and avoided truths of human existence in a materialist society built on egalitarian principles is that the value of human life is neither objective or abstractly priceless. Human life has specific subjective value. Not only are some human lives worth more than others, but some people are more concretely classifiable as human beings than others. There are people that walk the earth which cannot and should not be considered human beings. These are innately instinctive truths which have been understood about human nature ever since the dawn of civilization. These truths represent horrific disruption to every system of government touted as correct by the amorphous blob which defines western hegemony. Everything you were taught in school, every movie you were fed, every song you listened to, and every chiding lecture from anyone even slightly important on television has existed to reinforce the message that the value of human life cannot be counted or compared. And yet, it not only can be, but is calculated to mathematical precision every day by corporations, government agencies, militaries, think tanks, hedge funds, and banking institutions. Value is a relative concept. Your value to the world around you is exclusively determined by your effect on the world and those in it. Even the most minor ineffectualities by peripheral presence contribute to the great piggie bank of how others see you. If you are ugly, you have less value than the beautiful because you inflict a sensory burden on those around you. If you are stupid, you have less value than the intelligent because you are unable to contribute as much and often create problems which smarter people must develop solutions to mitigate. If you are poor, you have less value than the rich because you simultaneously are far less capable of actionable consequence and autonomy, but you likely inhabit a number of other negativities which compound upon your squalid existence. Refugees represent an almost exclusive drain upon the society in which they inflict their presence. They are not simply within the category of “immigrant” which is a mixed bag of utility depending on context. They are purely a vague category of disenfranchised and prospectless mouths to feed whose use to society is mainly through the steering of their destination for the purpose of political pandering or to be used as pawns in societal destabilization. A refugees life is almost certainly worth far less than a ridiculous little waffle eating squirrel, simply through the mathematics of emotional impact that squirrel had compounded through the amplifier of social media. A squirrel that entertained thousands, millions of people will always be worth more than even most human individuals of well repute. Even a wild squirrel eating an acorn on a tree branch in a park will be worth more for the sole act of making a little girl smile than a smelly pissed stained homeless person on a subway, who has accrued enough collective ire, imposition, and sensory assault on his surroundings that any society would be justified in feeding him into a sluice that processes his mass into fertilizer. Progressive identity politics ridden grandstanders will cry and shit their pants over the most obvious truths about existence, which they cannot even parse in their schizophrenic slogan built delusion reality where no individual person has value but the category of being “a person” is everything. “Did he deserve to go to jail just for being loud on the train???” Yes “Is your personal stuff worth someone else’s life?” Much more “(Random crime) doesn’t mean he deserved to get shot.” No, his existence already justified it. This is the world you and everyone actually lives in, one where the localization of your reality dictates value. I would wipe out the population of three different continents just to save the life of someone I loved and if you disagree I’m a better person than you are. |
You have zero recourse against this truth, as you participate in a constant biological dynamic which depends on it. Your existence is founded upon compliance with daily constant horrors inflicted on unseen, unknown, and unthought of people far away. Your leaders, icons, and the fulcrums of everything which defines the staples of your culture and personality are largely either sadistic pedophiles or beholden to them. Your food is the product of mass slaughter and geographic desolation, and even if you take great pains to assuage your own conscience at great inconvenience or expense (you should actually just be doing this for your health and quality of life (veganism isn’t healthy or proper, slaughterhouse animals fulfill great destiny by being eaten)), you still depend on an interconnected system which sustains itself through daily holocaust. This is not a blackpill, it is a great alleviation to those willing to accept minor responsibility through their own existence and acknowledge that both fairness is a delusion and the way things are in life are affected by ecosystems beyond physical reality. It isn’t wrong to be selfish. Trying to fix things outside of your life and family is the root of the world’s great turmoils. Excessive consideration for the world around you while your own life is in shambles is not selfless charity, it is a great sin which has been responsible for a number of turmoils inflicted upon the world over centuries. God does not appreciate when you try to do His job. This is how human beings have lived for hundreds of thousands of years. Revulsion at truth is just the withdrawal symptoms of a society awakening to intuition. Kevin Spacey gets assigned three sacrificial catamites at a year in exchange for continuing to acting in at least one good movie every two years. |
*Werner Herzog voice* And so as he scraped the innards of his bulbous totem, in a futile attempt to purge its lining from ghastly tendrils, he realized that more strings were created with each pass of the serrated plastic scoop. Even the smooth metal spoon did not resolve this problem. Soon he would find out that the pumpkin was made entirely of strings. Its total being was composed of fibers, tightly wound together. In stark horror, he encountered the same realization that man has grappled with for eons: The horror of nature is total and there is no removing it without removing nature itself. |
Watching Kamala Harris drone on with her nasal 75 IQ vapid Obamaspeak mystery meat woman vague safe inspiration office jargon over the past year as the storybook villain DEI Mammon of our era’s great narrative unfolding has made me realize something. It is not simply the bare facts of disenfranchisement that have spurned on young men to reject the gospel of globalism. It is not a simple equation of rejecting spiritual (and literal) castration. It is not merely the most basic reflex that occurs when quality of life, income, and opportunity become strangled into a pipe dream as you face down a short crippled life of impoverished consumption. No. There is a deep gnawing urge in the heart of man for the delicious forbidden ambrosia of violence, conflict, strife, and turmoil which has dried up in the great drought of plenty. Humanity craves violence. Humanity benefits from the suffering of others. There is no ultimate utopia where we all have robots do everything, harvest anything we need from errant asteroids, and have AI reduce all of our struggles into aimless Star Trek creative renaissance pursuits of discovery and knowledge. We thirst for blood. We desire an enemy. We need to step on others to climb higher. There will always be a greater and a lesser. There will always be a nemesis. There will always be a monster to slay, a land to conquer, a deluge to withstand, an conquered to subjugate. There will always be the fundamental force of nature that propels static equilibrium into chaos, a tiny match in the ocean of gasoline sloshing around in your soul, begging, pleading, edging towards the orgasm of spark to engulf it all in flames. There is an inquisition being held under a neon lit gold glitter cursive slogan embedded in a wall of fake leaves, centered on a high ceiling white wall. Bruno Mars plays quietly on an auxed iPhone, nestled beneath a tip tablet next to pink thermos filled with tap water. It is an office lobby labyrinth haunted by the shambling of Uber drivers and dickless podcast cadence. It is the hallmark of our great millenial dark age, a Tyranny of Perfect Professionalized Casualism. The inherent femininity of it is itself a red herring, women are simply wielded as its vanguard like captured outskirt villagers being forced by a Mongolian horde to beset upon their own relatives entrenched in a sieged desert palace somewhere in Khwarezm. Your own people, suffering the impalement of arrows by your hand. No, this isn’t feminine. The feminine has its own forbidden hungers and indulgences that are too suppressed by the cult of stagnation. This is the paradoxical promise of immortality through the complete rejection of all that makes you human. I have seen the glee and fervor in the faces of a rabid mob. I know what excites you people. I know the right flavor of flesh to spurn the disenfranchised into a ravenous frenzy. It is the promise of blood. It is the great disruption of Nothing into a grand terrifying Something. It is true Change, change being the great unspeakable horror that tears down the fabric of your existence and exposes you to its reality until you are rocked to your fucking core and finally learn to appreciate the stability which you spurned. It is the understanding that war is more than cinematic explosive pageantry, but a gray muddy turbofear onslaught of random violence interrupting the steady ongoing uncertain discomfort of waiting, shitting in the dirt, and harvesting moisture from filthy puddles as you run, hide, and die. Change is the crucible of chaos which reduces all satisfied desire into desperate needs, needs which define purpose and allow for the genuine development of culture through necessity. It is the musical chairs of death, disease, and destruction, a loud violent tunnel with a light at the end promising its survivors a chance to actually define existence once again for their progeny rather than just being helpless bystanders of the past. You can admit you crave it. |
One trillion Jira pushes per second directly beamed into my cornea. Quantum Entanglement Communicator work gc has me answering queries from civilizations that don’t exist yet. Our company doesn’t have new verticals, we have several higher dimensional orthogonal directions. Beaming PowerPoint presentations back in time via caveman shamanic hallucinations to invent language and geometry. Sophonic managerial hierarchy, I answer to sentient quasars, they report to protons. HR meetings with God. DNA ingrained self resolving IT tickets. We work hard, we play hard, hard play work we, playardorkwe, Rpwedgh, H, •, ∞ The giant autonomous perfect edge floating metal cube has been stealing lunches out of the fridge. “Remote” work in the astral plane. Seed round in the Akashic Records. Dyson sphere overclocking tips the Continuum Council does NOT want you to know! There is a black hole generator nestled between the 18 limb pedals of my Peloton. White collar prison crystal matrix. For some reason we still haven’t moved off Windows 7. Experience death to birth lifecycle in reverse during new hire orientation. Palladium lined magnetic field crucible filled with liquid plasma with the phrase “Don’t talk to me until I’ve had my Liquid Plasma” laser etched onto the side. Crunch sprint has us harvesting the consciousness of distant Type One Kardashev civilizations through UberEats. Noneuclidian phase shifting corner office only exists three days out of the week. We just shifted multiple universes into one coherent reality this quarter and yet I still have to wear this gay ass lanyard whenever I’m in the building. For your Christmas bonus this year you’re allowed to have a new emotion. Zoom calls in the fourth dimension so we can get every single one we’ve ever had and every single one we’ll ever have out of the way at once. Sexual harassment staff seminar because someone made eye contact. Federal audit triggered because someone thought about the future. “As per my last hivemind meld-“ Token unmodified biological flesh hire A day in the 1e-(100000^100000)HL. |
One of Donald Trump's most iconic aesthetic motifs is his love of McDonald's. Besides the name matching to such a degree that he mantles his identity onto a pseudo mascot for the brand, Trump's love of McDonald's also exemplifies an inherent patriotism which is far more genuine than anything prior presidents could possible manage. Donald Trump's unabashed enthusiasm for McDonald's is an authentic embodiment of American values which exceeds the sincerity of possibly any president within the past 200 years. McDonald's is arguably the most relevant symbol of American culture and identity, exceeding that of apple pies, baseball, firearms, bald eagles, and the flag itself. The burger is the ultimate American symbol, a perfect coalescence of the entire food pyramid, an archetypical recipe structure mimicked by nearly every culture, a series of ingredients which span both old and new world domestic staples, and most importantly, a representation of capitalism in its rawest and most efficient form. Of all burgers, the most quintessential burger is the McDonald's burger. Depending on the nation, this may be the iconic Big Mac, the legendary McDouble, or a number of other creative or hideous country specific concoctions. McDonald's is globally ubiquitous. Nearly every country has a McDonald's. Every McDonald's is like a US embassy establishing its culture mark upon whatever host nation has succumbed to the pure financial incentive of its influence. Armed with the sword of Coca-Cola to cut through whatever culture it has usurped, McDonald's represents the United States in its most robust legacy. Long after our country is shattered, eroded, shifted, transmogrified, or subsumed by the inevitability of the future, our culture and history will be earmarked by twin golden arches mythopoetically attached to our esoteric symbolism as a retrospective coat of arms for the great American Empire. Contemporary commentators criticize Trump's shameless love of McDonald's as a staple of tackiness, but it is through this love that Trump establishes himself as a sincere American. He truly embraces America in its purest form every time he orders McDonald's or wields it in front of the American populace. He fully dives into the great thresher of pure market efficiency, reducing all prior pretensions of authentic culture and fully acknowledging that for better or worse, America is capitalism in its rawest form. The United States was built on a foundation of capitalistic venture. Its first Spanish colonists in St. Augustine were in search of gold, land, and expansion. Its first English colony in Jamestown was an all male contingent of enterprisers, accountants, lawyers, and gentleman mixed with a minority of laborers and workers. They were all seeking wealth through the intense risk of being first settlers in the north. Every single aspect of American history is the pursuit of fortune and glory through bold venture into wild uncharted territory. McDonald's itself is a testament to capitalistic ambition. Much like the pioneers of Manifest Destiny and cutthroat Robber Barons carving out an empire through the underutilized bounty of the West, Ray Kroc usurped the hyperefficient family oriented restaurant model created by the McDonald's brothers in the 1950s and transformed it into a real estate empire, establishing the fast food franchise and building an unyielding egregore that exceeds the scope and grasp of any one man along the same momentum as the military industrial complex or any megacorporation today. McDonald's represents capitalism in its purest form. Much like the generic corporate delivery pizza represents what constitutes the platonic ideal of what a pizza should be (much to the chagrin of pretentious gastronomes, uppity New Yorkers, and indignant Italians), McDonald's has mastered what a burger should be, for better or worse. Sure, everyone's favorite local shithole diner or concept bistro has a "better burger" but nobody does it with the same degree of ubiquity, availability, and absolute consistency. The McDonald's burger isn't just a burger, it's the standard by which all burgers are measured. It is a burger with a neutral pH, a true North to anchor the burger spectrum. McDonald's is a litmus for the health of the nation itself. Its current status as cheap unhealthy slop is half psychosomatic and half genuine due to seed oil cooked fries, processed cheese, and some chemical preservatives in the buns. This is simply a mirror for the civilization in which the McDonald's burger exists. We as a society have chosen to accept poison in our lives through the soft internal coup of our federal agencies at the hands of ill intentioned parasites seeking to subdue our population, and so our McDonald's reflects this. McDonald's was once a cheap relatively healthy meal, targeted towards families. Its current state as a disposable feeding trough for the lower class only shows what we have allowed for ourselves, what our institutions choose to cater towards. McDonald's is a perfect pillar of direct assessment for the value of our currency. The price of Big Mac is used to track inflation, both on a national and global scale across decades of time. McDonald's represents America's economic presence so consistently that no two nations which host McDonald's franchises may ever be at war with one another, with the company suspending its operations in whichever country least aligns with American interests if such an event occurs. McDonald's itself will continue to exist long after America, continuing its empiric presence through the changing of names, titles, leadership, and populace. There is a McDonald's in the Pentagon. There is a McDonald's at Guantanamo Bay. There is a McDonald's in the Arctic circle. There is a McDonald's built into Ancient Roman ruins. There is a McDonald's built into the former Taiwanese president's villa in Hangzhou. There will be a McDonald's built on the moon. Colonists on the slopes of Europa will fabricate McDonald's patties while overlooking a red horizon totally occupied by a sunswept Jupiter. McDonald's arches printed upon air sealed food packs will represent a symbol of Terran ancestral home to the school children who have only known the gravity of Ringworlds. The raw conceptual interpretation of a McDouble will be interpretively manufactured by and for rogue autonomous AI's who will carry out McDonald's consumptive legacy in a realm of existence we will never comprehend on a timescale exceeding the human species. Somewhere in the great airport that resides just after death and just before the Afterlife, where dreams, souls, and primordial entities collide with the traces of the physical world, there is a McDonald's heralded by 5th dimensional oscillating golden arches, echoing out the raw spiritual blast of twelve trillion cattle all transpiring into one timeless momentous nuclear scream echoing out onto the infinite plane to be barely registered as a whisper in the ears of God. You will visit there when you die and you will order a burger, paying for it with a tiny shaving of your soul. Behind the glowing orb of its languageless menu, you will see the American flag barely concealing its ancestral forms, shifting from colonial British into a Roman eagle, and further towards empiric symbols of societies lost to written history. Donald Trump's figure and form will be one of many carved into the walls of its localized reality, speaking with Caesar's face and the voice of the first caveman who discovered wheat. He (they, it, you) will be thanking you for stopping by. |
*long quiet exhale* What? I’m fine. No, I promise, I’m fine. *longer less quiet exhale* |
The free proliferation of media to all members of society has created pockets of delusions in random midwits all across the world. Much like the braindead morons who parrot “Why can’t they aim for the legs or just use a taser” in every single police fatality video, there is always a contingent of uninformed larpers who develop their worldview based on mediocre action movies and Ronda Rousey promos from 2015. Women are biologically outmatched in every aspect of physical combat. Their skeletons are not built to withstand impacts, their musculature does not even come close to men’s when it comes to explosive movement, the average man has 2x the upper body strength and 3x the lower body strength of the average woman. The only times women are beating up men is if freak outliers in the highest range of roided up golf ball clit moustache power lifting bulk freak ogre women are bullying twink mode emaciated fairy men. Every other incident of a woman “beating” a man only occurs through the man’s compliance or fear of consequence. The average beer guzzling wagecuck retail slob man who doesn’t work out could consistently body the top female UFC contenders with 100% effort and intentional aggression. The ONLY martial arts that women even have the slightest chance defending themselves against a man is jiu jitsu, and this point comes with a degree of nuance that almost always escapes the BJJ white belt bros who echo it: The woman needs to be a black belt to stand a chance against an UNTRAINED guy within a reasonable weight range. The timeframe of getting a black belt or being within the skill range at a legitimate BJJ school is roughly 10 years. That’s ten years of sparring at least 3-4 times a week, all so a woman has a chance at fighting ONE guy without backup within a 50 pound weight range. The Boyd Belt concept states that every 25 pounds your opponent has on you is equivalent to another belt level. This is somewhat of a crude oversimplification but holds a degree of truth. Weight classes exist for a reason. Anyone who practices MMA will inevitably come across the typical “MMA girl” and of those girls, they can be classified into two categories: Pre and Post Realization. The Realization is a harrowing moment for any girl practicing legitimate martial arts. It occurs when they grow confident in their cardio, footwork, and technique. They fully understand that any time they’re forced to spar against another man that they’re getting roughly 10-20% of full force. Most men spar each other at a range between 40-60% full force. The Realization tends to occur more commonly in grappling than striking because it’s very difficult as a man to allow yourself to actually strike a girl at near to full effort. Even if you lack the inherent empathy and instinct that curtails such an action, you generally are apprehensive about doing it because if it goes wrong in any capacity you will incur the ire of everyone else at the gym and possibly become targeted for beatings until you leave the school. But, regardless of whether it’s striking at above 50% or grappling with full force, the Realization occurs when a female fighter begs a male sparring partner she trusts to fully use 100% effort, out of curiosity and confidence that her skills will see her through. Specifically the Realization can be pinpointed in a look they get in their eyes, a combination of absolute crushing despondence and slight fear. The Realization is the sudden absolute arrival of understanding that for all of their training, all of their work, and all of their effort, they still cannot match the furious magnitude of genetics. They have run up against a wall built by God. The Realization rips apart the curtain of whatever action hero girl fighter fantasy they may have harbored and reveals the frightening void of vulnerability affirming all their prior instincts. The Realization is that men are high velocity monsters, roaming the world, only kept at bay by the will of other men. |
Pepper spray? Bullshit Tasers? Bullshit Pocket knives? Maybe 10% chance deterrent if the woman knows what she’s doing The only true autonomous self defense women have is firearms, and roughly 50% of the female population is mentally unequipped to use them responsibly. Martial arts is spiritually, mentally, and physically invigorating. It’s one of the best things you can do for yourself as a man. The only problem with martial arts is that a majority of them are complete bullshit and they create a lot of delusions in dilettantes who espouse their utility. FOR THE PURPOSE OF DEFEATING OPPONENTS IN PHYSICAL COMBAT: Kung fu is bullshit Almost all karate is bullshit Ninjitsu is bullshit Aikido is bullshit Krav Maga only teaches you how to harass untrained people. Taekwondo can be useful but a lot of schools don’t let you spar anymore. BJJ and most grappling is useful but if you try it in public you’re going to get your head kicked in. Almost nobody who’s getting in fights in public will be alone and most floors you’ll be fighting on are concrete. Boxing is good, kickboxing and Muay Thai are great, but if you don’t know how to grapple you are fucked if you’re going on the floor. Also you will probably be fucked if you try most kicks in a real fight unless you really know what you’re doing. Judo is awesome, there’s a lot of utility in doing everything to stay on your feet. Fighting in public is stupid, if you’re at all good at it you will likely go to jail. If you suck at it, you will likely incur permanent injuries of some sort. The greatest self defense is surrounding awareness. Do not go to shitty bars, don’t fuck people’s wives, stay out of bad neighborhoods. These three things will prevent 99% of fights you will ever be in. Bruce Lee was an athlete who practiced martial arts for movies. He was still a cool guy but any UFC fighter today would fuck him up. The UFC probably isn’t rigged but it’s a lot easier to predict who’s going to win than they let on. All fighters get old. All fighters have to lose sooner or later. No martial art will ever defeat a firearm matched with competent awareness and draw training. However, many gun owners, gun enthusiasts, and uninformed people commenting on firearms come with their own set of ludicrous delusions which would require another thread for another day. |
When presented with the works of visionaries, the primordial task slave will always utter their ancient motto: “But you didn’t do the actual work!” These types of people will always bring up the same stupid solutions to all the world’s problems shared by 10 year olds, pothead high schoolers, and housewives on Facebook: “Why not just make the smartest scientists in the world run the government?” The midwit devcel engineer brain wage scraping task slave is allergic to ambition. The task slave is an archetype of pure logistics, completely incapable of parsing value beyond physically apparent utility. It is a handicap of materialistic thinking to disregard the abstract skill sets of social capability, leadership, organization, marketing, or ideation. The task slave was descended from Mesopotamian scribes and basket weaving hens in villages of antiquity. The task slave occupies a tiny bubble of their own mastered role which is a fraction of the whole that is civilization. The task slave cannot parse between the act of physically speaking and the process of communication. The task slave does not understand the difference between an errant thought and an actual idea. The task slave is a machine learning program whose parameters are set to absolute efficiency in the shortest timescale. The task slave whines at change, charm, choice, charge, and challenge. The task slave has reduced all actions down to an equation of effort where the conclusion is that it’s always easier to convince their manager not to deviate from the familiar than it is to solve new problems. The task slave despises capitalism for quantifying value in absolute objective clarity. They will scoff at their superiors enjoying higher pay, status, and power while proclaiming their own deserved credit for an enterprise in which they participate, while ignoring every other element of teamwork and resource they depend on. They will do this while also conveniently disregarding the myriad of jobs in the world which are much harder, more time consuming, and pay much less than what they receive. A world run by task slaves would be at best a steadily declining stagnation, more likely a rapid decay into chaotic turmoil preceding usurpation at the hands of violent men of ambition. Task slaves will parade around flaunting their two dozen irreverent ideas and five different unfinished hobby projects. Task slaves will refuse to take any risk at pursuing their own visions while complaining they are trapped in the prison of manifesting the dreams of greater men. Task slaves will do everything possible to disregard every achievement of their leaders while scrutinizing their most irrelevant hiccups. Task slaves bow before the likes of Steve Wozniak and the assistant painters of the Sistine Chapel while spitting on the likes of Steve Jobs and Michelangelo. The task slave will never understand that a pyramid lasting for tens of thousands of years will always be a more valuable use of resources, time, and labor than the comfort of a million peasants being granted a million fabricated shacks to withstand a century or two at most. The task slave will never grasp the human need for heroes in the great mythology of history. They will defy the conventions that historically have always coalesced the efforts of a team onto the credit of a singular director. They would rather dilute the inspiration of Edisons, Fords, Caesars, and Napoleons in favor of a drab incoherent swath of committees and circumstantial participants too numerous to substantially remember. The task slave is a necessary element in the fundamental formula of human progress, a beast of burden that must always be herded towards the great unknown by a visionary who can overcome petty resistance in the face of minor discomfort. Task slaves will never truly create or discover anything on their own. They have traded glory for a safe secure existence. |
Oh, and Happy Columbus Day |
True randomness should be a mandated feature of any online content aggregator. User catered algorithms have been cranked up way too high and it ruins both browsing and posting. Clicking into a random post out of context curiosity just to have my TL bombarded by normslop, politics, black people be like DAYUM, or random misery porn only encourages me to stop scrolling, stop engaging in any meaningful way. And no, just sticking to your follow tab isn’t enough. A bar becomes stale if all you have to look forward to is regulars. Much the same online, there is an inherent need to seek out the novelty of strangers, explore uncharted wilderness, dive into random new alleyways, and pry open the gates to an orchard of the mundane, the bizarre, the fantastic, the depraved, and everything in between. An encumbering algorithm is like having an obsequious butler in your home constantly poking his head over your shoulder, peering at your open mouth while you eat, sniffing your bathroom after you shit, taking pictures of your laundry, and rummaging through your garbage. It is an overbearing mother who briefly heard you say you liked crackers once so she buys several crates and force feeds you Ritz until you puke for the next decade of your life. There should be a slider somewhere that lets you tweak just how much spoonfeeding you want from your feed, and if nothing else, a true “Newest” tab for uninhibited discovery. Having this would help withstand the tsunami of inevitability that is the Perfect Slop. The Perfect Slop is a platonic ideal of metal viral potentiated brainrot content which has achieved an escape velocity of rapid perpetual evolution at pace with the human brain’s timescale for growing bored. It is the horrific shapeshifting wendigo of conceptual entities, transmogrifying at such a speed that it paradoxically stabilizes into absolute permanent consistency. The Perfect Slop is the end result of algorithms. It is human refinement through iterative trial, a steady approach towards not only mastering the algorithm within a period in time but overcoming its adjustment responses to permanently crush all future possible obstacles. It is the invisible barrier that outlines the hard physical limit of potential human IQ, a finish line of just how complicated the formula needs to be to keep human beings entertained. It condenses the cacophony of all the various frequencies and rhythms that hypnotize us into one persistent droning noise, alienating those too old to withstand the brunt of its velocity while indoctrinating those young enough to adapt to its devolving aura. Perfect Slop defies the inherent fulcrum of true creative progress, imperfection. Through imperfection you obtain necessity, the need to reach perfection. Necessity is the mechanism that causes culture to exist. There are little pockets of inexperience, mediocrity, autistic sincerity, mentally ill breakdowns, concealed naivety, technical jargon, personal pursuits, and sheer random output hiding between the goliath shadows of bouncy ball animations, TikTok boom sounds, and videos of police officers arresting schizos from 5 years ago. Such trinkets of novelty are gatekept to those who have earned their prize, the true lurkers and obsessive onliners that do not pick through their feeds like idle gardeners but truly hunt for content like truffle scavengers yanking their voracious pigs by the leash. I’m not one to deprive the sweetest fruits from God’s most steadfast gatherers and demand to be handed my share without effort. But there is a degree of acceptable presentation that’s been completely strangled out of these websites. It is apocalyptic inevitability propelled by the most immediate short term logical optimization decisions, a series of tiny right steps down a pathway to doom. Much like great history is made by sometimes defying all logic, some of the greatest posts are found in some of the most ignored places. |
One of the biggest flaws of being politics-brained is an inability to process nuance or satire. Both right wingers and left wingers consistently fail to parse intent behind creative work, likely due to the constant fight or flight reflexes induced by entrenched ideology. The "Man Enough" ads were never meant to be relatable to actual men. The director himself confirmed they were parodic, a cheeky little inside joke that checked off every little androgynous man tit closet homo signal that makes these people smirk and guffaw. These people either know they're losing or they know they can rig whatever they want. Either scenario implies a complete disregard at any attempt at catering to the masculine values crowd, a maneuver which would convince nobody new to vote differently while alienating the rabid dogmatic base which will torch association or support for the most minor perceived heresy. Of course you could give credit and say this was a 5D chess move on their behalf, shallow bait to induce viral discussion and notoriety, which is successful if that truly was their intent. However, the reason this ad exists is for a far simpler motive: They hate the notion of masculinity, they hate men, and they want you to be a crippled castrated rape slave. Nothing they create will EVER be intended to sincerely cater to you. Even if you were to upend the entire global financial system, industrial complex, and media goliath that upholds their cosmic mission of atomizing the soul and devolving all human beings into gelatinous consumer units, even if you were to reduce the very last radical left leaning suicide goblin into a crumpled heap on a concrete floor facing down permanent extinction, their last words would be "Fuck you for existing, do what I say or face the consequences." This was never supposed to be a sincere attempt at convincing you of anything nor was it ever worth an ounce of credible consideration beyond a sneering giggle before shoving it out of your consciousness forever. |
Running start, vaulting into a 5 and half foot vertical, forward diving position, completely horizontal at 35mph, my groin barely brushing past the woman's face, my ass angled slightly upward to fart directly into the dude's nostrils in perfect timing, hands cupped together with arms outstretched, legs straight with toes pointed down, zero skin to skin contact, rotating and tumbling into a tactical roll > somersault > second vault directly upward to land hero pose one knee one fist directly onto the top of Marina Abramović's skull as she compacts into a squashed marshmallow-like configuration before bursting cartoonishly in a confetti-like pile of giblets. Onlookers stunned silent for split second before erupting into cheering. Andy Warhol punches through his coffin and shambles into the room to hand me a heavyweight championship belt proclaiming that I've "Won all of art" as champagne is popped and I'm handed a lit cigar. |
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