[Name] help me pull the trigger...

[Name] I am ready to end it all...

[Name] I have swallowed as much as I can handle...

Anyways, here’s my new personality based on the new movie, show or book I’ve read this week.

My goat. My glorious king. My fellow America hater. You don’t miss.

I am not shy when it comes to mentioning that out of my family (all Venezuelans), I am the only one that didn't fall for the alt-right Trump pipeline. I mean, very briefly in 2008-2011, I was a libertarian/ancap before that was a mainstream and quit when I found that the AnCap meet ups I was seeing online looked like white supremacist gatherings. Then Bernie came along, and I agreed with him, and I had to investigate Venezuelan socialism to square it away with my internalized opposition. So I did read Capital. I also read the UN and Treasury website on Venezuelan sanctions and realized why Venezuela is having such a difficult time. My brother, who was a Bernie-bro in 2016 has fallen with the alt-right. I cannot overstate how Hillary Clinton, the DNC, and pied piper strategy to run against Donald Trump has devastated the minds of Americans.

He was a Bernie bro, when Bernie got ratfucked. My brother also fell on hard times, he turned increasingly pessimistic and exacerbated his mental illness. His mishandled OCD – his therapist was terrible– led him to stay home and listen to more extreme right-wing content, he was struggling to pay off his student loans (which Joe Biden never canceled/pardoned). And he is now a libertarian/AnCap, Peter Schiff type, a silverbug, an absolute MAGA cretin and evangelical christian weirdo (we are Catholic). And because he is still struggling to find a decent job, applying to CBP.

I found this out recently when my mom called to ask for information, "because your brother is applying to join a federal government agency" and I told them I wouldn't not give them anything, they didn't already know. Come to find out he has taken a fitness test and will join the CBP.

This shit sucks man.

They’ll never implement this, ever again.

I wonder how that shit plays out.

I get sleepy after 3pm 👉👈

My fellow… my fellow, uh… beings. Americans. Americans! Yes.

Thank you… thank you for the tremendous outpouring of… of chairs. There are so many chairs here tonight. And your faces—they glow like microwaved peaches in July. That’s the spirit. That’s… America.

They said I wouldn’t make it past the caucuses. They said I wouldn’t make it past the breakfast buffet at the Super 8 in Scranton. But I did. I did, and I found a waffle that looked like Franklin D. Roosevelt. I took that as a sign. Or a snack. The syrup was confusing.

Anyway.

We’re gathered on this glorious evening—not morning, no, the moon’s not yet done with us—to dream. To dream of highways that turn into rivers, of eagles that pay student loans, of… of vending machines that dispense justice, and maybe… maybe… onion rings.

America is a… is a casserole of contradictions. A democracy baked at 350 degrees until the top layer forms a crust of optimism. Underneath—beans. Lots of ’em. And I say, we stir it. Stir the beans of freedom. Stir ’em good. Don’t just let ‘em sit there.

When I was a boy, my grandfather told me… well, he didn’t talk much, mostly just whittled things that looked like regret. But still, you could hear the silence. It said: “Plant potatoes. And never trust a duck with opinions.”

Now—now listen, I’ve been to the mountaintop. It was actually a landfill, but there was a man there juggling batteries and telling fortunes in Morse code. He told me the American people are tired of normal. They want strange. They want… ergonomic policy. They want healthcare that tastes like peppermint and a tax code that hums lullabies.

My platform? Simple: We legalize naps. Mandatory poetry in the Senate. Nationalize kindness. Every citizen gets a dog or a duck. You choose. But choose wisely.

What was I saying?

Oh yes—this nation… this brilliant, chaotic quilt of parking lots and ideals, we will rise. We will rise like a balloon full of civic responsibility and helium-flavored liberty. We’ll float. Float until the stars notice and nod.

In conclusion… or beginning… we ride at dawn. Or dusk. I forget which one has pancakes.

Thank you. God bless. And remember: the future is just yesterday wearing sunglasses.

Prompt

TIL there are pronatalist conventions?

I gotta say, 15+ years of having tabs and now we get vertical ones as a default option. And I'm not loving it. The habit to look for my next tab is so ingrained, I look at the horizontal axis and nothing's there.