Nancy Pelosi wraps up her interview and an ad rolls across the screen. Verdant forests, golden plains, a soothing voice reassuring me that this company is laying a foundation for a beautiful future. The ad’s for Blackrock.

I’ve completely checked out of all that shit over the past year. I only ever see CNN turn on when I visit family, and I’m always shocked that this shit is still going on! The pundits are still acting shocked that Trump was mean to someone! Apparently there’s still a market for this. I recall a family friend proudly declaring in mid-2020, “If I turn off the news for a second, He wins.” And hey, I also spent the Trump years in 24/7 hysterics, I can’t judge. I recorded a cover of “Back in the USSR” as some kind of diss to the orange man for being a Russian agent and actually released it for fuck’s sake. (You can’t find it anymore, I’ll own my cringe in text but it’s too painful to let live). Lord knows I’ve got no legs to stand on here. Of course I’ve now convinced myself I’ve escaped the spectacle, I can see through it all, I’m not like the CNN watching sheep. But I’ve just graduated into a more niche marketing demographic, the TrueAnon listening parasocial faux-cynic. It’s been helpful to return to this blog and read that horrible first entry. A public reminder to myself that I am capable of astonishing self-deception. I really thought I was doing something. “Congratulations by reading this you’ve escaped your algorithmic control conditioning.” Jesu Christo! If you catch me saying that shit in real life punch me in the balls please. (Rhetorically).

In the years before my Grandpa died, he would turn on the news and say “Time for the Trump Show!” My Grandpa would not understand what an ARG is if you spent a year explaining it to him, but in his blunt cop-humor he managed to understand that this was all just an interactive piece of entertainment.

I’m running out of steam here. I took like three bathroom breaks over the past 100 words. My stamina limit seems to be about three paragraphs. Like a fucking third grader. A Hamburger Essay. I didn’t even do a conclusion. I really think I’m gonna take over the world with the written word when I’m writing at a Third Grade Level. But I suppose todays third graders are writing at a kindergarten level so maybe my limited capabilities are gonna seem impressive soon. Dear God, thank you for lowering the bar so I might have a chance of getting over it.