In America, you are on your own, totally alone, a survivalist-soldier being cast adrift upon the cruel tides of capitalist avarice-
-except, you know, during the Super Bowl.
During the Super Bowl we all come together as one, like Voltron, like a Megazord, like the shunting in the movie Society-
-except, you know, if you’re one of these people who doesn’t watch the Super Bowl for whatever reason.
In which case . . . you’re for sure alone for real.
But being truly alone frees you to maximize your grind, to merge with the great ocean of Desire whose waves power the meta-engine of Ambition. Only a god or a beast can truly live alone, as a philosopher once observed . . . therefore, to exist authentically as an American you must spurn the illusionary communion of the Super Bowl, and ambitiously claw your way in solitude towards the Beastly Godhead of Avarice! And once you’ve fully attained Command and Control Apotheosis you get to be the Most Consequential Being who orders the great mass of average loneliness-fearing folks to do this, that, and the other. You get to be In Charge, Living the Dream of Dreams!
I know it sounds like a lot of work . . . but it’s actually the path of least resistance in the American context.
