Monopoly
It's a game. It's illegal. Monogamy is a word that sounds like some sort of crime. Polygamy. Larceny. Petty is dead. Rest in immortality. It's a Danish thing. Spoiler alert: we're all getting fucked in the assholes metaphysically speaking because our friends and family are all so ethically wealthy on opposites day and ethnics are low budget investment properties across the board in this edition.
We've all struggled with the cliché of heartbreak and watched an egregious amount of both rom-coms and porno to get us through the bank robberies of being wrong about people we wanted to know and love til the end and curl up with once the game is finally over, tables are flipped or folded, and everyone else has flopped off on their merry ways.
I don't think it's actually the alleged dichotomy between lust and love or true beauty and what's just hot or a cool feeling or anything...
I think it's common knowledge now that most of us only have so many miles in us to run the marathon gamut that is the stages of grief; we've hit acceptance that we're doomed to be unhappy unless we stop caring about the outcome. We're apathetic about winning a game we've played out and just show up for some semblance of camaraderie since our pets can't speak and those robots still don't know how to love. Except we've seen enough to know that they're actually better at it than us now and we're just fucking zombies.
I'm sick of this fantastical pith.
I like making jokes. They show off my anger, which is translated to sexual prowess but really just alludes to untimely death and too much personality fueled by artificial intelligence ultimately only increases our sexual frustration.
Our hive mind truth box generation gets off on the humor of getting off as a means to reduce our grief for being fooled so many times into thinking real people were really into us, specifically but we're legitimately trying to get a side by side comparison and see how we all get along before they bother to invite us out, let alone tip a waitress about our company...or share their drugs for that matter.
We're just all taking a piss at love itself by prioritizing our connectedness and common knowledge which is the antithesis of the intimacy of our fathers, who were Calvinistic in their approach, choosing only a few with whom to share their secrets.
The point of Facebook was to provide a low pressure platform where you could present yourself in a casually open, honest way so that somebody might go, hey, they're perfect for me and see if they're correct. I mean, it's all about money and self expression and mostly advertisement which is well and good and plenty beneficial and I don't have any issue with that much. I hit accept on everyone to prove my bag of ducks just got hit because I threw those quacker asses out my car window. It doesn't matter to me anymore if a person online wants to fuck me. I'm fkn Sam I Am on that front. Whatever. I think that's true for all of us who aren't paying for a dating site premium subscription now.
I guess I'm just pissed that no one still left at the table under forty will deign to lose making some move that screwed them or someone they know in the past. We're all mad scientists and evil geniuses about it unless we're long game bank bosses waiting for that big deal to come through. What the fuck does it take to agree? That's what I want to know.
We've all struggled with the cliché of heartbreak and watched an egregious amount of both rom-coms and porno to get us through the bank robberies of being wrong about people we wanted to know and love til the end and curl up with once the game is finally over, tables are flipped or folded, and everyone else has flopped off on their merry ways.
I don't think it's actually the alleged dichotomy between lust and love or true beauty and what's just hot or a cool feeling or anything...
I think it's common knowledge now that most of us only have so many miles in us to run the marathon gamut that is the stages of grief; we've hit acceptance that we're doomed to be unhappy unless we stop caring about the outcome. We're apathetic about winning a game we've played out and just show up for some semblance of camaraderie since our pets can't speak and those robots still don't know how to love. Except we've seen enough to know that they're actually better at it than us now and we're just fucking zombies.
I'm sick of this fantastical pith.
I like making jokes. They show off my anger, which is translated to sexual prowess but really just alludes to untimely death and too much personality fueled by artificial intelligence ultimately only increases our sexual frustration.
Our hive mind truth box generation gets off on the humor of getting off as a means to reduce our grief for being fooled so many times into thinking real people were really into us, specifically but we're legitimately trying to get a side by side comparison and see how we all get along before they bother to invite us out, let alone tip a waitress about our company...or share their drugs for that matter.
We're just all taking a piss at love itself by prioritizing our connectedness and common knowledge which is the antithesis of the intimacy of our fathers, who were Calvinistic in their approach, choosing only a few with whom to share their secrets.
The point of Facebook was to provide a low pressure platform where you could present yourself in a casually open, honest way so that somebody might go, hey, they're perfect for me and see if they're correct. I mean, it's all about money and self expression and mostly advertisement which is well and good and plenty beneficial and I don't have any issue with that much. I hit accept on everyone to prove my bag of ducks just got hit because I threw those quacker asses out my car window. It doesn't matter to me anymore if a person online wants to fuck me. I'm fkn Sam I Am on that front. Whatever. I think that's true for all of us who aren't paying for a dating site premium subscription now.
I guess I'm just pissed that no one still left at the table under forty will deign to lose making some move that screwed them or someone they know in the past. We're all mad scientists and evil geniuses about it unless we're long game bank bosses waiting for that big deal to come through. What the fuck does it take to agree? That's what I want to know.