gloom

No Exit Christmas Special:

Locked in a suffocating room, a Jacksonian, a Neocon, and a Techno-Libertarian stew in a surreal cacophony of complaints, each convinced the others are the root of all the world’s misery. The Jacksonian, clutching a tattered American flag, howls about the “pussification” of America, blaming the Techno-Libertarian for flooding the country with “goddamn H1B visa workers,” turning real jobs into code-based fiefdoms for SV elites. He calls the others “namby-pamby globalists,” who wouldn’t know a real fight if it crawled up their asses and bit them.

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After hours of grueling back-and-forth, the Jacksonian mutters, “You know, any of you even know what George Clooney’s doing these days? Don’t know said the Neocon I was watching Taylor Swift. She win? You guys even keep up with that anymore?

The Techno-Libertarian, shaking his head in disbelief, looks around, incredulous. “What kind of hell is this? It don’t even have a goddamn copy of the New York Times!

They all fall silent. In that moment, the absurdity of it all hits them. And there they sit, each secretly longing for the very things they once swore they hated—the pomp, the self-righteousness, the spectacle of a world that at least had the decency to pretend it knew what it was doing.

The Neocon, strutting around like a whysky-soaked war hawk, insists the only way out is to make the desert glow and bomb the world into a freedom-shaped crater, accusing the Jacksonian of being a “cowardly isolationist” and the Techno-Libertarian of being a “fucking armchair general.” Meanwhile, the Techno-Libertarian, hunched over his phone in his Patagonia vest declares that everything would be solved if they just let him re-centralized the internet and put him in charge, slapping around smart contracts, 1200 pages terms of use and blaming both of them for “ruining innovation and lowering birthrates”