You Don't Belong Here
or do you?
Last updated
or do you?
Last updated
You wake up on a beach with no recollection. The distinct sound of flies buzzing emanates through every cell of your being. The clouds above dissipate to welcome a penetrating ray of light. Your center of attention gravitates towards this ray in a magnetic fashion. You are entranced, almost hypnotized. You think to yourself "Is this a dream?". A dubious smell enters your nasal cavity. You breathe deeply, unphased by an almost debilitating concoction of fecal essence. "Why can't I stop smelling this intentionally?", you ponder, before continuing your focus upon the heavenly, enigmatic ray of hope. You can taste poop now, but you don't care, because you know this ray is leading to something important. Fixated, like a Leprachaun in pursuit of gold at the end of a rainbow, you stay focused. You forget that this is a dream, because it isn't. The light guides you to the answer.
Your eyes water in the face of divinity. You buckle to your knees, paralyzed by the ineffable awe of the Golden Toilet. The sound of waves crashing reverberates through your perineum. You hear a voice. You aren't crazy, but you might be.
"The lords of poop have taken the world by storm - indiscriminately defecating upon economic markets far and wide. The state of Web3.0 is in a shitty place - as meme projects trend high upon the ranks of Opensea, with no end to this undignified meta in sight. A small group of glutenous insiders with an insatiable greed for market domination win effortlessly, at the expense of the majority that are left to squalor in the excrement of their blind ambition. You are now faced with a choice - betray your self-worth, form union with your demise and find sanctuary in poop, or deny yourself another lucrative opportunity that doesn't make sense at face value. Poop pass, poop pass, poop pass, poop pass, poop pass, poop pass, poop pass, poop pass."
None of this makes sense to you, but it doesn't matter, because you have to make a choice. You question the consequences of what allegiance to poop could entail. "Two girls and a cup, fecal enemas, satanic scatporn?", you wonder with conviction. You know your fetishes barely stem past scheduled missionary with your beloved wife on Saturday night at 8:30pm that inevitably ends in her dissatisfaction - but the allure of meaning, belonging, and unbridled riches quashes your concerns in an instant. You inhale the surrounding fumes with unnecessary vigor and assert, "I hereby pledge allegiance to the poop fam!".
