Okay, heart that——where was I?
Oh yeah, fuck Zuckerberg.
Boy, that felt good. Profanity has a precise algorithmic correlation to voodoo doll sales on EBay.
Facebook wrings out money from every idle click, every loose synapse. The deeper the reptile mind probe, the bigger the payoff. You want truth?? There’s your truth, Bam! Every word here is part of the scheme. You could be gardening or playing with the kids. I could be. But the fucker knows us. The algorithms own us. We’re his monetized bitches.
Baby goat break.
No, Mark, I will never use that creepy huggy-heart emoji.
Also, you’re Eddie Haskell, Mark.
The whole internet knows it.
All your employees know it.
The Proud Boys you’re enabling know it, except their name for you is cuck.
Your pinned pupils tell me you suspect this.
Taking the drug you’re pushing is going to kill you, Mark.
But your humanity can set you free.
Try it. With all its manipulable flaws, humanity might embrace you.
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