SAN FRANCISCO—Agents are now posing as the recently deceased Elon Musk, and are undermining free speech from within the platform. As behemoths like Twitter, Facebook and LinkedIn begin to crumble, many are now terrified for the collapse of social media.
Some are left to farm up the ashes, hoovering hip rats into mastadon servers where compartments of human beings are made to live like animals. Slavery of the people, by the people.
what’s up with jokes? you say something funny and now i do what? go ha ha ha hee hee? the fuck are we doin here
—mastadon.social user MrSerious11211
But many, who staked their livelihoods on a longshot that did not make it, are asking: What is the true cost?
Will the great reset leave a me-shaped hole in my hateful little soul?
Not to worry. As Away Messages fade, there is a light in the dark mists of freedom.
Run away from that anxiety-inducing darkness, and fall into the tender, loving arms of Lebal Drocer, Inc.
Run quietly by billionaires whose names you would not recognize, this nameless entity is a glowing social media platform where you are permitted to float, as formlessly as you like, through a cloud of words, images, and associations, making your mark on the world. At Lebal Drocer, everyone is watching. We love you so much.
Away Messages, by Lebal Drocer Chat is more than a mastodon instance, where you go in and see what the people have been doing in there: jerking off in some dark dank instance.
We would never pull you into that darkness where the ugly is lurking. It’s no place for you.
If you thought Twitter was a shithole before, now Elon Musk owns it.
San Francisco—In the immediate hours following the purchase, Musk fired top executives and pledged a goal of defeating spambots, which occasionally offer drugs to users discussing LSD, amphetamines, or ketamine.
Pursuant to the original agreement, Musk was legally forced to go through with the purchase after trying to back out of the deal.
He has since invited Kanye West back to the platform, where Musk knows he will continue ruining his life as a form of entertainment.
Political Twitter is undulating in orgasmic ecstasy as the platform succumbs to the power of capital itself. The nerdiest, dirtiest, flirtiest, spaceship wreckinest, never-uses-a-condom, species-propagatenest, lib-triggering, regulation-hatin, rootin tootin Apartheid Clyde to ever smoke a joint with Joe Rogan, just exchanged 44 billion of his worthless American dollars for powercoin, a doge alternative, fired everybody, and now he, alone, controls Twitter. He was already their hero. Now, Musk is something more to them.
Sad, pathetic freaks are the charged particles in the air that gets breathed in, and huffed out of the machines of absurd, catastrophic tyranny. They’re blowing in the wind, breathed out as Musk.
Folks from Shitpost Twitter responded to the news with pledges never to change. Others use the event as posting fodder. Many carry on as usual, because politics is not their identity, and they’re not about to start bringing everybody down with their fucking opinions.
But some users are the Twitter equivalent to naked mole rats, worming their way through dense timelines of funny tweets, non sequitur, and inside jokes infinitely folding into themselves. Being so deep in the shit, perhaps they are the most sensitive users of all, to these seismic changes.
What extrudes from the machine is worth examining.
While “free speech” is spreading, hateful rhetoric is being emboldened, and “gas this shit” begins to take on new meanings.
Meanwhile, people from shitpost Twitter are routinely banned for typing playful threats, ‘kys’ and, @Lyft your head up high and blow your brains out.
While they might be allowed to stick around from here on out, and grow their numbers, so too does a looming darkness.
An Historically Accurate Picture of Life on the American Frontier
The year is 1850. The nation is young, as Lady Liberty battles the Indian menace, and Americans tame the land.
The Internet Chronicle is awake to the struggle, therefore this history is not written by the so-called victors.
While defending from foreign invaders, Comanche leader Shot Hutcheson and his team of savages had been tracking a ragtag group of explorers, led by snake oil salesman Angstrom H. Troubadour, Sr.
Do not let his job title fool you. Selling snake oil was – at that time – an honorable, and lucrative profession.
“We were mastering a form of tantric masturbation that is so good, the body would never need or want to jerk off again,” Troubadour said. “That’s just how good it was.”
The legend goes that Hutcheson wanted that formula not only for himself, but for his nation, too. The white man’s swagger, he noted, was undeniable.
“I thought to myself, let’s see if they still have that swagger without their horses,” Hutcheson said, “in the desert heat, with no food to eat, no water to drink. With nothing else but their precious, essential oils.”
Unfortunately, Troubadour and his team of honkies would lose their horses early on, after Comanche scouts crept into their encampments, cut the reigns, and scared the beasts of burden away with war-like yipping and howling, as well as by firing the rifles they’d wrenched away from the dead hands of European frontiersman. Many killed themselves with those very guns, because they knew that to die by their own hands was better than being captured alive by Comanche scouts.
Hutcheson and his unit tracked the marooned team of imperialist merchants, mercenaries and explorers from the hills.
“We followed them for nearly 200 miles until the first of the frontiersmen collapsed in the desert. Soon, more followed,” Hutcheson said. “We had them fucked up good.”
For several more weeks that remained true, until the night of the final attack.
Beauregarde Troubadour Senior, ancient war technique: “Silence your opponent with a life-stopping kick to the heart!”
Troubadour narrowly escaped defeat as he began to administer controlled, medical kicks to the heart.
“I was battling my Indian opponents when I realized I could jeopardize their savage enterprise to paralyze and end my life if only I localized one life-stopping kick to the heart,” Troubadour said. “I just started kicking.”
Over the ensuing battle, while sick and dehydrated, overheating, and failing from exhaustion, historians estimate that Troubadour kicked to death more than 75 enemy combatants.
Many, found with sternums caved in, appeared to have died from a single blow to the heart.
Military historians have brought word of the technique to the attention of high-ranking generals in the American armed forces.
General Gh. Kennedy of the US Army said modern strategy is built on the wars of the past.
“Science is bullshit hocus pocus anyway, so we’re looking to history to inform and enhance the global atrocities we want to commit today,” he said. “A single kick to the heart, huh? Just think of what those fucked up, kicking dogs from Boston Dynamics could do with that data. We in the Army–and I know folks in the State Department–are enthusiastic about this new mode of killing.”
Detractors have expressed concerns that women and minorities have fallen pray to the Troubadour lineage, arguing that the family should not be lionized. One academic said Troubadour, Sr. should have been hanged for his role in multiple American genocides.
Crane Course, 59, is Professor Emeritus of Women’s Studies at Lebal Drocer University. He gives lectures that place him squarely at the focus of the material, making everything about himself, and his office hours extend well into the night. Course says the manner in which Troubadour, Sr. treated the Native population was “barbaric beyond words,” and he added that they also did not treat their women very well.
“I would have been much nicer to everyone,” Course said. “Especially the women. I am often reminded of the John Lennon quote. What women are, to the world. Me? I do not see women like that. I would have been good to them.”
Course said his appearance in this story, much like his overall existence, feels a little pinned on at the end, but he said he is grateful for the work, and loves any exposure.
“Women need to understand I’m more than a tail,” he said. “I’m the whole donkey.”
Editor’s Note: Dr. Troubadour does not accept HMO, medicare, medicaid or Humana insurance. He is a cruel, calculating businessman who only cares about YOUR health.