Aliens are real or the US congress is wasting time or the shadow government is conducting a psyop. It doesn’t matter which. No one really cares and why would they when Sinead O’Connor - everyone’s favorite destroyer of Pope photographs and singer of Prince songs (who is not Prince) - has died. US Senate Minority Leader Mitch McConnell seems to have been hit very hard by the news of Ms. O’Connor’s death. His grief was such that he was rendered unable to speak or even really move while addressing the press about defense policy. Some conspiracy theorists, however, maintain that McConell was not actually incapacitated with grief over O’Connor’s demise, but rather made catatonic by the news that Lena Dunham will be directing the upcoming Polly Pocket movie. Unnamed insiders say that McConnell could be heard muttering “Why would they hire Lena to helm when it would be such a perfect Claire Denis project? And why Polly Pocket, even? The more interesting next step in the Mattel Cinematic Universe would be a Boglins feature! Claire Denis’ Boglins! Those idiots are missing a massive opportunity here!” prior to his presser. It seems more likely, to us at least, that McConnell cares more about Boglins than he does O’Connor, but we’re really not sure what or who to believe. To be honest, we’re not really sure what belief is or what it’s good for at this point. We believe that the world turning into a fiery hell merits something other than infographics, that unaffordable housing calls for more than op-eds, and that unchecked corporate greed rendering basic necessities like FOOD impossibly expensive necessitates something akin to what they did in France that one time with the whatchamacallits, but we’re not sure if or how we can translate these beliefs into action or if those ensuing actions will really do anything given that better folks than us have tried and (evidently) not really altogether succeeded. But success or accomplishment might be overrated or besides the point, we can at least X our beliefs on X for Xs and contribute to the ongoing conversation (is that what it’s called?) that involves cat pictures and things that Joyce Carol Oates says. As long as we repress or apathetically shrug off the fact that using X props up the fortune and clout of the richest man in the world, then we can at least zone out and focus on something that isn’t everything for a little while and everyone on X is so clever, they always know just how to not think about something in the most hilariously dismissive way as if nothing mattered and that we were all doomed anyways so why not make little jokes that don’t make anyone laugh. The nice thing about being a low-key nihilist is that being accused of being a low-key nihilist can’t bother you because… well, all the nihilism. But not everyone, obviously, is willing nothingness - unions are striking all over the place and folks in Ukraine are at war and Rabble are doing actual journalism and Richocet media are showing AirBnB hosts to be the late-capitalist demon parasites they are and holy shit THE JONAS BROTHERS are going on a global tour! We almost forgot how important it is to remember things we used to like because if we don’t retreat into the soothing comfort of an imaginary past when life was (allegedly) better then we’d have to, well, y’know… wait, we really don’t actually know what the alternative to distraction or soporific retreat into creature comforts is anymore. We can’t invest our precious time in efforts or objects we take to be precious exclusively because that, like our beliefs, doesn’t net much holistic good (even the feelings of accomplishment are temporary), but we can’t “give up” or “give in” either because who or what exactly would we be giving up or giving into at this point? The important thing is, we heard on a podcast hosted by a princess or maybe it was a post on Instagram from that dude who did that thing that time, you gotta have hope. Or was it cope? Dope? Rope? Nope, can’t remember. Our mind’s not right - but who needs a right mind or a mind at all when we’ve got rain and temperate weather for the first time in what feels like a century and we can go be or have a body that experiences not-unpleasant sensations for a brief little while until, of course, aliens or congress or the shadow government or death itself comes for that finally too.
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wake up babe oof bong is at their most schizo yet!
When the x (not the fun kind) -induced psychosis hits :(