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Nothing matters, man. The planet is dying, all the institutions that once felt unshakeable now look like they’re standing on feet of clay, and there’s nothing we can do about it. Capitalism is killing our souls as we sell ourselves into servitude in a system that doesn’t value us at all. It’s just all so bleak and hopeless and no one has any idea how to fix it. Fuck it, put some spaghetti in a jar, I don’t care.
Starting next month, the city of St. Louis will no longer allow basic bitches in its downtown area, becoming a pioneer in America’s fight against basic bitchdom. This move will ban people like Rebeka, who spells it with a K like the unoriginal wannabe that she is, from accessing parts of the city deemed too important to ruin with her shrill voice and Gucci knock-offs. Retailers like Hollister or the Apple Store have protested against the move, arguing that it will negatively affect their bottom-line, but were then told to “shut the hell up.”
Whenever someone sees that “Sent from my iPhone” signature at the bottom of your e-mails, they instantly have a total body oil change as they cry, jizz, and crap their pants out of awe and jealousy. It’s the greatest power symbol out there, a reminder to everyone else that you are better than they are, no matter how many times this month you had to raid old mousetraps for food because you spent all your money on an iPhone. But it can all get so repetitive. Sure, “Sent from my iPhone” tells people you’re interesting, witty, charming, and smarter than they are, but it doesn’t give them any details. So maybe consider changing your signature to one of the following:
Homeownership is the quintessential part of the American dream. It’s not just a purchase or an investment. It’s a rite of passage and a test of character. When you OWN a house, you have to take care of it on your own, tend to it, and someday maybe even pass it on to your descendants. That’s how you build legacies. But a new study from the Gedoff Mylawn Research Center has shown that over 90% of murdered millennials do not currently own any real-estate.
Picture this. You walk into the morning lecture hall, Red Bull in your hand, whiskey on your breath, gun in your bag (because you party) and suddenly there you don’t see it: your empty chair, now occupied by some asshole who isn’t you. “Not me?” you think to yourself. “But I’m not not me.” Surely this can’t be right. Yeah, none of the seats in whatever class this is have been assigned but, come on, you’ve been sitting in that exact same chair for months now. It’s yours. Except for now. Now it’s theirs. What do you do?
Day 4. I have been following the life story of Margaret Strover for the better part of the week now, from her uneventful childhood in the chilly North East to her somehow even more boring time at a private New England college. I have gained immense insight into the life of this woman in her late 30s who feels like she could have done more with her life but is not complaining about where she ended up. Every day my children ask when will we have some food. I keep lying to them that Margaret will surely get to her grandmother’s chicken recipe soon, but I don’t know how much longer I’ll be able to keep it up.