You ever wonder why everything fucking sucks? Its in the air we breathe, that foul stench of toxic positivity with the sprinklings of feminist girl boss humor – “like that’s so random” shit. You either prostrate yourself to the new wave of feminist pussification of men or join the culty roided-up mgtow counterculture. But what about the gentlemen of this world? The men who just want to go for a walk without breathing in all that waste left behind by the talking heads of the new media. A gentleman who likes to listen to some Brahms or Wagner and watch the day go by without giving a shit about work, taxes, or the mind-numbing bifurcation of western politics, just be free to do whatever he damn well pleases. No, not in this fucking world, everybody’s got to be somebody or the whole system goes belly up. And those who fail at getting their nut, get whipped into shape by the crippling debt-based economy or grow stale like scattered day-old bread left on some cracked, half-empty parking lot. Worst of all is the branding of everything, we’re all just neatly designed robots to fall into one category or another, all for the glorious new god of this era, the almighty “Algorithm,” for it is the mighty “A” that gets us our nut after all. The influencers and youtubers beg and plead on their cocksucking knees to please their new master, while the gentlemen who used to spend days on end doing nothing but whatever it was that made them feel alive, go extinct. The artful man produces more mainstream feminine friendly content, since women make better spenders than men thus count for more in the algo, and the thinkers of the world write bogus articles disguised as “science” just to pay the bills; and in doing so chop up whatever integrity is left in their respective fields for the dogs. Whatever great new world this is, I fucking hate it, and there is no out in sight, its everywhere and it’s getting damn stuck in my pores. The closest thing is to become rich and go off the grid, but even they, unless they go full Amish, and nobody really wants to go full Amish, they still have to play the game of pretend that the world is “doing just fine.” They must keep smiling and nodding along, while each day gets a bit shittier thanks to the ever-worsening fiat currency that determines the ultimate worth our lives. Strap up that strap on and keep fucking that guy ahead of you in this ever-turning hamster wheel of exploitation. Fuck yourselves, fuck your mother, fuck everything you love until your dead – that’s what it’s all about, in the end, you either get busy fucking or you get busy dying. But I digress, there is far too much nonsense in this shit-stained reality we call life for me to swallow at the moment. I dare say, gentlemen, let’s burn it all down and start over, let the smoke burn our lungs, but it’ll be a blessed temporal pain for then we could smell the barbecue of an end to the worthless cycles of commercial consumerism. And maybe one day this gentleman could finally breath the fresh unpolluted air of the Earth all over. Good day, gentlemen.

Sincerely yours,

The Wandering Poltroon