Try saying that after twelve shots of tequila.
As the name suggests, this is a virtual space designed to distract from [and/or observe] existential dread through the medium of writing. This is the eight thousand and eighth iteration of such a virtual space. The other eight thousand and seven attempts were not up to the challenge and were promptly obliterated from existence in this and every reality. To speak of them beyond this paragraph would crack all of existence like an egg.
You think I'm joking? Tell that to [REDACTED] and their fucking [REDACTED] eldritch assholes.
This [and only this] iteration is intended to be entertainment. That means it is intended to provide a healthy distraction from the dystopic miasma that is daily life in the year 2021 and beyond. We're teetering on the edge a cyberpunk reality or a post-apocalyptic one, you guys and either way, YIKES.
But hey.
Don't panic or even think about it for a second.
[COPE] by immersing yourself in the absurdist prose of some aging nerd from like the 80's.
What aging nerd, there's so many? I hear you ask.
[INTRODUCING CANDIDATE #8008:RetroDave] A man named Dave who is over thirty years of age, which officially classifies him as Retro. This concept is a simple one.
Now, unfortunately, this candidate's point of origin was the North East region of England and after having spent twenty years there had developed an arid and ridiculous sense of humor. Furthermore: they may enlist the use of foul language with a poetic accuracy usually only reserved for Finnish snipers in World War 2.
[The intentions of RetroDave are considered non-malicious and their intent, while not to provide a 'safe space' is to provide a comfortable one. Content has been classified ENTERTAINMENT with the side effects of making you chill the fuck out for a second]
So - With all that said, turn yer fuckin brain sound off, ease that trigger finger and allow yourself to be entertained for a minute or two.
Trust me, you'll feel better.
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