Latest posts
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Born at the Wrong Time (Except for All That Oppression)

You ever sit back, stare out a window, and think, “Damn. Maybe I was just born in the wrong era”? I do. Frequently. Especially when I’m writing—something I love, something that used to mean something, back when people consumed the written word instead of TikTok montages of people lip-syncing relationship drama that never happened. I
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Letter To The Boy I Used To Be

Hey kid, Yeah, it’s me. The one you’re going to become. And I know, right now, you’re probably curled up somewhere too quiet, listening for the wrong kind of silence. The kind that smells of fear and cheap antiseptic. The kind that makes your ribs hum like piano wires before the next blow. The kind
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Jeff Bezos Found Love Again—So Shut Up, You’re Not Unlovable, Just Poor

If One of Earth’s Top Villains Can Get Remarried, Maybe You Just Need a Yacht In today’s installment of Late Capitalism: The Rom-Com, Amazon founder and trillionaire skin avatar Jeff Bezos has officially remarried, proving once and for all that love is not dead—it’s just income-based. Yes, Jeff “I Make Warehouse Workers Pee in Bottles”
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Y’allternative Medicine: The Only Essential Oil Strong Enough to Cure Facts

Welcome to 2025, where science is optional, vibes are currency, and the cure for cancer might be hiding in a mason jar full of moonshine and bootstraps. Forget Big Pharma. Forget Moderna. Forget literally anything that went through clinical trials. There’s a new sheriff in town and she’s wearing an “Ivermectin Is My Truth” t-shirt
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Repressitol PM: Because Sleeping Through Your Trauma Is the New Self-Care

Introducing Repressitol PM, the only sleep aid clinically designed for those of us whose nightly routine includes laying in bed and remembering everything we’ve ever done wrong since 1996. Is your bedtime ritual more like a horror anthology curated by your subconscious? Do you routinely wake up at 3:07 a.m. wondering if that joke you
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So I Found the Love of My Life… Now What?

The Rest of You May As Well Log Off. There comes a time in every former trauma dumpling’s life when the clouds part, the birds chirp, and some suspiciously handsome man with stable communication skills and actual emotional intelligence shows up. For me, it happened eight months ago. And now? Honestly—I’m unwell. In the best



