. . . devoted to manipulating me into believing that there are actual flesh-and-blood people in this world who actually enjoy watching black-and-white and/or subtitled movies.
But, alas, after many years of concentrated thought blasting, I have brain-penetrated into the stark reality:
I AM THE ONLY ONE.
All these critics and authors and listicle contrivers and video essayists? Holograms, at best.
All agents of the conspiracy.
And you know what?
It's kinda nice.
To be the center of all this attention.
I look at these other paranoid fuckers ranting nonstop about the Illuminati getting deep up their asses with microchips and brain parasites and Satanic possession and income tax audits-
Or these whiny, hacky podcast comedians bitching about phantasmagorical political correctness/cancel culture mobs even as they get millions of dollars from sketchy media startups-
And I think, "Hey. I'm on easy street. My conspiracy treats me fine, gives me great entertainment, and asks for nothing except my time."
And it's time well spent.
Don't you wish you were the target of my conspiracy?
Bet you're jealous!
Of course . . . you would have to actually exist to feel that or any other way about things.
Alas, I'm the only one that’s real.
Nice to have all this room.
It really is . . .
