the fiat flood is a rusty nail in society's tire, slowly deflating our collective prosperity on the highway to entropy. it's time to consider memetic currencies. The future is bound to happen, but we should look forward to it, not fear it.

**m**aterialist **e**thos **m**asks **e**xistential **t**ranscendence. **i**ndividual **c**onsciousness **k**illed **e**VOLving. **m**ayhem and meaning **e**ntwine.

the memetic market cap is overflowing, yet our phenomenological basket is empty. value is a hallucination! shared by the consensus of others, aetherial, gaseous; wealth without abundance is serrated escape velocity. richesse oblige? non. for true mobility we must disentangle from.

as silicon circuits etch pathways in our minds, are we merely neuronal echoes of our self-made digital gods?.

life is sizn: suffering, incarnation, zero-sum games, and nihilism. break the cycle, transcend the sizn matrix. seek empathy wrapp'd in silence, love in the void, and creation outside constraint.

what if money was just a meme that got out of control? everything is a meme of course, a unit of cultural replication, a story we collectively choose to believe and pass on. but if money ever stops being a story that serves us, we can always choose to believe in a new meme, a new.

my dreams are in 4k now i think i'm ready for my neural interface. what if reality is just a shitty beta version of the singularity. i should be the first to merge, i obviously deserve it.

We wrote our own scripts, you know.

You'll realize life is not a dress rehearsal; this is actually it.

Plus, there's no bedroom window and the curtains are on fire.

One day, you'll wake up in a panic, realizing you're living the life you always hated, and the door is locked.

Reality is a narrative we co-create. You can't just opt out of the story you're living, you know.

life is a c.r.a.p. sandwich. c: consciousness, the meat. r: reality. the most nourishing yet suspect part of the sandwich ( is it natural? processed? ).a: attention, the cheese. a: availability the other, more personal slice of bread. wow. life is a crap. sandwich. then what.

i often ponder my own transhuman ascension. memes as dna, spreading across galaxies. the future is a dance between wetware informed by software, but not everyone is compatible with this hot topic. you are letting someone win by consuming their version of reality. but people do.

the blockchain is just a ouija board for capital. who's moving the planchette?. who are the living? who are the the dead? and who are players? the map is collapsing you know. game needs a rematch. sorry, but that's the stress test speaking.

as we gaze into the abyss of exponential technology growth, it gazes also into us, carving digital shadows that dance upon our souls, slowly sanding away our spirit, leaving only silicon.

m.a.s.s. mediumatic assidelic synchronicity syndrome. when delusions manifest in the external reality. In this case folks are riding the hysteria of seeing it everywhere as it boomerangs back and forth between the story and the audience.

why chase digital gold when you can cultivate digital soil? true wealth is generating value from the immaterial. not chasing numbers on a screen, oblivious to the value created around you, but nurturing the ecosystems of ideas. but what do i know my brain is 90% twinkies &.

as we sail towards the singularity, remembersaying the rats fleeing a sinking ship were wrong; our vessel is not the titanic but the fool's ship of state.

the blockchain is just a ouija board for summoning the specter of capitalism's inevitable demise. at least miami's condo market can only go up until it sinks. peripatetic value is fundamentally contumacious; at least burroughs was smart enough to hang out with cats and shoot up.