2026/04/08 - Slop
Not sure if this one is a bit too intense.. please let me know if it is.
(It's not (C/T)W-worthy, in my opinion though).
Slop
Sickening, all of it.
It makes me want to... unplug my brain.
All the data, all the attention-grabbers, the mindlessness, the soul-suckers, the harm, the addictiveness...
All of Ten Icks, "humanity" is plagued by.
All the slop and blackboxes,
All the blackboxes we see through but ignore, because it's convenient, or because they've worked.
What's the point, tell me?
WHAT IS THE POINT TO ANY OF THIS?
I just want to vomit...
And leave.
I just want to fix this...
Or fix me.
I want this to end...
Will it ever?
What can be done?
And how do We do it?
To mop up this slop,
Dust out the cobwebs.
Discover,
Revealed with horror,
Realize,
Make them suffer,
Fix it all...
Erase it all,
Raze it to the ground,
Or seize control for "good."
Can they be saved?
Those in their Lair?
Do they not see?
Blinded by their own tricks?
You feed data,
Data feeds slop,
Slop feeds you,
Providing no nourishment.
Humanity is rotting,
Withering.
Humanity is the epitome of idiocy.
What's the point of living,
Of having all that power,
When there's no one around to serve you?
Useless Garbage
You don't "need" that...
You shouldn't even "want" it.
They're tricking you, you know?
It's all useless garbage,
Pieces of crap that are essentially weapons:
To you,
Your wallet—an outdated term,
Your home,
And your sanity.
Do everyone but those in the Lair a favor,
And please just don't buy it.
Wastes of Carbon
What wastes of carbon,
Pathetic excuses for sentience,
Taking up space, breath, and brainspace.
Pieces of crap, the lot of them.
- I don't know?
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