I remember this conversation I had with Ben in like 2018 maybe, sitting in the shade of the grey-stone-slab condo on Mass Ave in Cambridge that had been constructed on land formerly occupied by this place All Asia, which was a Chinese restaurant with a little stage for rock shows, where Fat History Month played our first or second show, in 2007, opening for The Italian Sweater, and Matt Gress threw a danish at me from the crowd for attempting “Feel Like Making Love”.
Anyway, this conversation with Ben was pre-2020, before the world shut down and the veil began to lift, back when I knew less and was still asking questions like, “why don’t the evil rich just pay a small percentage more in taxes so everyone doesn’t revolt?”, and wondering why nobody would do anything about climate change. Here in late-April of 2026, his answer seems more on the money by the minute.
“it’s all wrong, and the lizard people meant for it to be”
He said his theory was that climate annihilation is closer than we’re being told, and the billionaires are all building bunkers because they intend to ride out the apocalypse while the rest of us die, sooner rather than later. That it’s intentional, that they want collapse, that they’ve already made their choice.
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“and it’s never gonna end, and they’ll live on forever, and cover everything in slime”
Beyond just the bunkers, it seems plausible, given that the War-Pig Tech Cadre are all obsessed with post-humanism and the Singularity etc., that they’ve given up on life and are simply hoarding resources to attempt digital immortality (especially in this era of nu-imperialism, watching them racing to pillage the world while simultaneously stripping the copper wire from the husk of empire, with seemingly no concern that there may in fact be a future that demands consequences.)
The evidence keeps piling up as their plans are forced into existence. Like this AI bullshit. The first thing that occurred to me when I heard the carbon stats on the data centers, is that, in addition to providing the computing power for endless surveillance and digital consciousness storage, they’ll also serve as terraforming tools, speed-heating the planet to kill us all off faster and keep the fuss to a minimum, just like the aliens in that Charlie Sheen movie The Arrival (1996).
“what to do with these lizard people, freaks who eat babies?”
The Epstein Revelations have clarified that this whole current societal structure and narrative, all it’s institutions and assumptions, all its myths and mass-culture, are geared to serve no higher purpose than allowing freakish nothing-creatures to subdue and brainwash and enslave the world to the point where they can rape and eat babies with impunity.
Meanwhile, as if we needed further proof of their depravity, we’re all forced to watch them bomb babies in public. And as a wise man once said, “It doesn’t matter to the dead baby whether you ate it afterward or not.”
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“will they be thwarted by the ones who survive?”
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I didn’t really start to feel my own “working-classness” until late 2020, delivering groceries to rich people around Boston, feeling suspected and affronted by the sudden appearance of a camera in every doorbell.
(I’ve always had a swing in my step, but the intrusive surveillance on every porch upped my Insouciance Quotient considerably. I’d drop the bag with my shoulder turned and bounce back to the van, nonchalant and rubbery, swinging my ass like a man in charge of his life who Does-Not-Give-A-Fuck.)
I’d been lucky enough to have spent most of my working life as a movie projectionist in art theaters, the type of job where a person can be left alone, unhassled and respected and mysterious, a perfect perch for the alienated individual who does a better job without supervision. Plus free snacks and soda and popcorn and coffee, and the lobby friends to hang out with when I got lonely. I started reading books a lot, because shifts were mostly all day, and 12 hours of the internet will drive a person insane. In spite of the ring-cam panopticon, driving deliveries was similarly independent and unfuckwithable as long as I did the easy job right.
I was blessed with enough space to avoid all friction with Authority, which feels a whole lot like Freedom.
Anyway, like I said, it took me until late 2020 to finally really understand, and feel embraced by, my own actual class position. It wasn’t an unpleasant revelation at all, I felt the solidarity. I’d been confusingly brought up “upper-middle-class” in the burbs of north-Jersey, in the ideologically-mystifying milieu of my parents ambient ex-radical white-boomer-liberal guilt and class shame. I’d internalized some feeling of the presumed inauthenticity of working with a safety net, the feeling of being embarrassingly elevated and separate and soft. Much of that suburban self-doubt had worn off by 2020, but it was welcoming to finally fully feel like one of Us, to figure out that at the most basic level, there are only 2 categories, humans and epsteinlizards.
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Counterintuitively, since I was living large on government cheese double what I’ll ever make again, something about the slow, peaceful pandemic days had given me the time and space to reconceptualize the class war as being about “them with their knives currently”, as opposed to “us with our pitchforks in the future”. As in: we’re on defense and the offense doesn’t sleep.
I remember sitting by the river one afternoon that long summer and it occurred to me in a flash, for the first time in my life, that the only reason we can’t swim in (let alone drink from) every single body of fresh water on the planet is just that some asshole poisoned it to make money, that it’s a choice being made to do evil, rather than the naturally occurring phenomenon it had seemed, during my whole life of not really thinking about it.
The pandemic also showed the power of collective inaction to force concessions from the ruling class. They had to give us money and keep us alive. We got a taste of how much better life could be without the burden of overwork, and we also saw how incredibly fast and easy it is to do that type of wealth redistribution.
And it wasn’t just material. With the machine of world commerce paused while the actual world kept turning like it always does, you could see that scarcity and the need to compete with and exploit one another is just a fiction we subscribe to. (I heard something similar happened prior to the French Revolution. The peasantry were allowed some breathing room and decided they wanted even more air. “Give a mouse a cookie and next he’ll be wanting equal rights and dignity.”)
Of course at this point, now that they’ve openly declared hot war on all of humanity, I imagine another pandemic would probably just serve their eugenist genocide agenda, so we’ll need to be more intentional with our tactics, like do a general strike while we’re all nice and healthy or something.
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Yea, verily, the only minority group worthy of any hatred is The Billionaires. And it’s ok to say so, given that it’s not an immutable characteristic. They can shed their scales and reclaim their personhood at any time they like, just by spending all that money fixing all the problems they’ve caused for everyone else. Obviously they will never do that, and given that they’re in a fast-accelerating death spiral, pulling us all down with them, our only options are to go down with their ship or build ourselves some lifeboats and have fun surfing the coming deluge together.
“and I didn’t wanna believe, but the lizard people are real”