When You Invent Billionaire Paste



The thing about the imploded submarine that killed five people by simultaneously incinerating and crushing them into paste is that this story has too many winners! You’re telling me a billionaire pretty much kidnapped and murdered his terrified nineteen year old son? Yes, you are, because that boy went along, despite his terror, because a) it was Fathers Day and b) he wanted to please his father. Worst dad ever. Most abused son of all time. So our first winner is the fact that we don’t have to care about billionaires’ families, because they sure don’t. The second winner is the nuclear family, which as we now clearly see is used to murder teenagers. What an institution!

Which brings us to the scientifically proven fact that billionaires are our worst people. There’s been some discussion that we shouldn’t joke about billionaires having a horrible, awful time. It’s always framed like this, “They’re people with families”. Interesting. If you’re a billionaire you are humanised by your family? I’m pretty sure I can think of one nineteen year old boy who would have a little argue with you about that. If he wasn’t paste that’s already in the belly of a fish with a light growing out of it’s head.

Which brings us to our next winner: deep sea creatures, the only animals, or indeed fish, whose day we haven’t ruined, ever, and never will, if the deep sea mining, which was the real point of this adventure, doesn’t get off the ground. Oh indeed, the real purpose of this operation was to test cheap’n’cheerful people movers for deep sea mining operations. Suddenly the lack of comfortable seating and general half-assedness of the submersible makes sense. If we are going to profit from tearing up the ocean and-fingers crossed- awakening a god who destroys us down to the last person using an app to get a milk shake delivered, we need underwater transport that is extremely uncomfortable and dangerous. A high profit industry with a massive death rate? I’m investing now!

I lied when I said it was Fathers Day. It was Fathers Day weekend. So it’s a whole weekend now? Hey Fathers, how about you calm the fuck down you needy pricks? And do you reckon that father was one of those Fathers who reckons it’s his job to “protect” his family? Of course he was, that’s exactly the mixture of farts that men who end up killing their families huff every day. So many winners in this story.

Empaths have had a big few days, making it very clear they have no idea which side they’re on. I’m not talking about anyone asking why people are joking about the hilarious submersible, but not talking about the hundreds of refugees the Greek Coast Guard just drowned. I wasn’t even annoyed at people who felt like they had to interrupt the worldwide Submarine Asshole party by mentioning the drowned refugees. Firstly, they couldn’t get a word in edgewise, because people were righteously celebrating, and secondly I guess by now we’re all used to punishers who don’t know how to stop and smell the dead billionaires. Whatever, be the saddest revolutionary, champ, have at it.

I mean, sure, remind us constantly that these billionaires have families. Be an Empath, extend your ultra annoying niceness to every single human being, but are you telling me you don’t have any favourites? Because I’m on the side of the underdogs mate, I’m not wondering what nice gesture I could make to a guy who purposely made a submarine out of dog shit because the ocean floor is the final frontier of being a cunt to other people.

Empaths are interesting people, because their niceness is a paste they smear on any situation that makes them feel uncomfortable. People are laughing at billionaires trapped at the bottom of the ocean? This makes me uncomfortable because I’m a Paste Person, looks like it’s time to apply some of the paste.

These Nice assholes might be holding us back as much as any black hearted billionaire. In conclusion, suck a fart.

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