Machine Mockery

So there I was, just minding my own business. Living the dream. You know, cruising the seafloor, munching on some crustacean leftovers, maybe a nice squid snack here and there. Life was good. Peaceful. Quiet. Nobody knew about me, and that’s exactly how I liked it. I mean, sure, I’m not what you’d call conventionally attractive. I’ve got the carapace of a tank and the charisma of a damp rock. But down there, in the deep blue depths, nobody judges you. We’re all just creepy critters doing our thing. I was living large—or, well, deep—just the way a supergiant like me was meant to. But then they showed up. The humans. With their big flashy nets and their bigger appetites. At first, I thought, Meh, they’re just here for the fish. I mean, who would care about a guy like me? But oh, was I wrong. One day, I was chowing down on a particularly delicious whale carcass (a five-star meal, let me tell you), and before I knew it— BAM! —I was snatched up. Just like that. No warning. No time to grab...

The air was thick with dread, not unlike the moments before a massive internet outage or when Netflix removes everyone’s favorite show. This week, the United States government announced that it may finally ban TikTok. Naturally, this set off a chain reaction of apocalyptic proportions among TikTok users and creators, sparking what sociologists are already dubbing The Great TikTok Panic of 2025. Stage 1: Denial “Oh, they’ve said this before,” sniffed @LipSyncLoren, clutching his ring light like a security blanket. “It’s just another bluff. Remember when they said they’d ban it in 2020? Still here!” He then turned to his phone to record his 1,237th video of the day, a heartfelt lip-sync to Whitney Houston’s “I Will Always Love You,” captioned: “Dedicated to my 3M followers just in case. 🥹💔” Stage 2: Anger Across the platform, creators exploded into rage. “WHY DON’T THEY BAN CORPORATE GREED INSTEAD?!” screamed @ConspiracyQueen33, wrapping herself in an American flag for dramatic effect...

By now, we've all heard the phrase "my 2 cents," that humble preamble to opinions, unsolicited advice, or those spicy takes you didn't ask for. But folks, let’s get real—2 cents doesn't buy anything anymore. Inflation has been out here breaking wallets and dreams, and the phrase "my 2 cents" is long overdue for an update. The Problem: Cents Are Practically Extinct In 1910, 2 cents could actually do something . A postcard? 2 cents. A handful of candy? 2 cents. Nowadays, you can’t even look at a gumball machine without needing quarters. Forget candy, postcards, or even the vague promise of value—2 cents barely covers the electricity required to type the phrase "my 2 cents." Economists (probably) agree that the cost of expressing an opinion has skyrocketed. Between the time spent crafting your hot take and the emotional energy spent defending it on social media, we’re talking big money here. You might as well bill people for your emotional labor ...