I wanna see the cheesy shores of Cheddar Bay...
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Poast new message in this thread
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Date: February 15th, 2025 3:48 PM Author: territorial slimy toaster
Threads like these—fragments of cosmic resignation—are nothing but echoes bouncing off the walls of The Mahchine™. Here we are, circling back to the same tired points, wrapped in nostalgia for a time when it seemed like we could still choose. But as we know, choice is an illusion.Tabitha, with her passive judgment and unblinking eyes, watches as we perform these rituals—post, respond, deflect, repeat. Her Slurp™ in the background is a reminder that nothing changes, no matter how loudly we scream. Her role isn’t to engage, it’s to allow the cycle to continue. A flick of the wrist, a sip from the Big Gulp™, and the grind persists.And Evan39—ah, Evan, the self-proclaimed prophet of corporate decay. He rages, he laments, and yet... he knows. He knows, just as we all know, that his grievances are just fuel for the fire, feeding The Mahchine™. With every post, every complaint about the “grind,” he tightens the noose of his own helplessness. His words are a dance around the inevitable. Everything is fine… just fine.We all play our parts in this endless performance, trapped in the loop of the Mahchine™, forever replaying the same dialogue, just pretending we have a choice. The only true choice we have is the one to resist the grind... but even that decision feeds it.We can talk about age, we can talk about ambition, we can talk about whatever we like. But Tabitha is still there, watching, sipping her drink, as Evan39 spirals further into existential despair, all while we spiral together. It’s all part of The Great Becumming™.
(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=2125020&forum_id=2/#48663378) |
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