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Me, in thirty years, looking at my best comrades through chain link fence boxes. We languish away in what used to be an Amazon fulfillment center in the “before times”, now a hot steel and concrete building, with the scent of a chicken processing plant, euphemistically called “The Data Center”.

boxes.asboxes.as

Our only purpose, if one could call it that, is ridding the regime’s electronic devices of malware due to their incessant clicking of phishing links, deviant kink porn and snuff films. Our pod sits reminiscing about life as it used to be. How quaint it all seems now under these fluorescent lights.

I look to the closest person near me. His name is unknown. They stopped giving us numbers a few years back because it felt like too much of a “handout”, as the free people called it. I only knew him by his QR code, which I had no way of using. Anyways I look to him and I say…

"...and oh, those Gold Stars. I love Gold Stars. I love GOLD. Beautiful, isn't it? You'll have a Trump Gold Star to TREASURE for the rest of your life, courtesy of OUR ADMINISTRATION. Won't that be just AMAZING? You should say Thank You." 🤮

Even on his own platform, Truth Social, he had to TACO. First he said no transitioning for minors without parental consent, then he said none, period. He should've anticipated the backlash, right? But parental supremacy often conflicts with transphobia when parents support their children, supremely!