I was going to write a final scathing piece about the absolute ludicrousness of the billionaire space race in light of all the human misery and it was going to be really insightful, and I was going to talk about how they don’t pay taxes while their employees die working in a tornado so somebody (me) can get their collagen peptides (yes, I drink them in my coffee every day, prob because a tech bro or healthy woo-woo geek told me to) overnight, but then I realized there are already 8,024 x 1023 emails, tweets, articles, and internal monologues about this exact same thing, so I deleted that post for not being innovative enough.
And now I’m writing this one, from day five of my COVID quarantine.
Merry Christmas, by the way.
Because I get it, I really do, and I’m not just saying that as somebody who’s at the midpoint of experiencing total isolation during the western capitalist holidays while suffering a trendy, current events virus. The bottom line is, if there really are only two types of people in this world, there are colonizers and there are stay-at-homers, and you either have that colonizing blood or you don’t, and if you have it, you have to forcibly inject yourself someplace at great cost to everything and everybody, including the place, and if you don’t, you get to stay home.
And I don’t want to stay home.
And I’m not saying that just because I have COVID. I am going to stay home next week, maybe even the week after, depending; I’m not trying to spread this bizarre, creepy creeper of a new virus. I’m saying that, in the long run, I’m a wannabe tech bro. I want to live forever, and I want to get shot into space. I know it’s not practical or attractive. I know the billionaire rocket looks like a dumb penis, like, straight out of the Austin Powers movie.
But I can’t help it. Since I learned space was an option, even though it really wasn’t, I’ve wanted to visit it. And maybe the reason I went negative about tech bros for this final blog series of the year, is because I am so stinking jealous of them. Getting to be evil. Not paying taxes. Shooting rockets into space hither and thither. Naming your kid some weird symbols. Obviously smoking weed and doing whatever drugs you feel like. Forcing employees to act on your every little whim.
I guess the other bottom line is, buy my books, so I can amass $20 million and immediately spend it on getting shot into space for a week.
Thanks everybody, and Merry Christmas.