A note from the damned

Welcome to modern life.

Trump makes a cabinet pick, and his buddy’s personal shitcoin toy goes through the roof.

You ever feel you’ve been cheated, they say?

Moral corruption.

You don’t have to be smart, you just have to be on the inside.

And cynical as fuck.

It’s so hard not to just give the fuck up.

(Nickelback are Canadian, by the way.)

Meritcrocacy? Idiocracy. And never clearer.

The American Dream? A joke.

Maybe I’m wrong about this whole post-50 thing.

Maybe it’s not ageism. It’s just the cynicism of the whole fucking thing.

Tech bros who declaim younger people are just smarter, then watch elections corrupted and swayed on their dime.

I got shut down on Facebook this week, a 30 day ban from placing ads (which is something I do, fractionally, to make a living). The reason for my ban?

I was engaging in “Drugs.”

Drugs trafficking? There was an ad right there for cannabis delivery with an unlicensed Bill Hader gif smirking away. That was fine by Facebook’s standards.

No, I was kicked out of my own “job” for mentioning, the day after the election, jokingly, that my friend should share his Xanax with me.

A joke.

You don’t get to make jokes in Zuckerberg’s America, son.

Just watch good ol’ Uncle Musk crack up again at his DOGE-coin earnings. He gets to gut the American government with his buddy Ramaswamy and cash out his cryptocurrency to boot.

Do as we say, not as we do.

The joke’s on us.

I don’t think it always has been.

But it is now. And it’s only going to get funnier, to them.

I’ll be back later this week. Hug your loved ones. Watch out for each other. This is going to get worse.