Of all the World Cups I’ve experienced, none took place in the country where I lived. Until 2026. This one snuck up on me. With “so many things going on in the world,” it just did not fit in mentally.

Now it’s here, and it is exactly what we need: three host countries and 45 guest nations coming together to celebrate. And what is a better place than New York, where you can access city services in 175 languages? Someone here probably roots for each of the 48 teams, and every day someone has a reason to celebrate.

This changes the story and the mood, hopefully not just for the next weeks.

If you still don’t like the World Cup, let Bill Saporito of the New York Times convince you.

想起多年前跟媽媽兩個人去日本大阪，結果第二天下午就跟媽媽吵架。到了晚上媽媽睡了，我一個人溜出去買酒，被超商店員要求看證件，當時護照被媽媽收走，翻遍了錢包，也沒證件可以證明自己滿二十，當下心情簡直糟到極點，我臉上可能很哀傷但店員一臉無奈。

後來總算找到一間超商沒檢查我證件，很慶幸地買到一罐啤酒，一個人坐在店門口外，一邊喝酒一邊掉淚、、、

#夏の思い出

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Heeft u hulp nodig omdat u wordt achtervolgt door kundige jagers, te vroeg bent opgestaan, knoflook in u rauwvlees pasta terecht gekomen en daardoor last heeft van diverse infecties, bloedarmoede en constipatie en nu niet langer beschikt over voldoende capaciteiten voor inloggen op u mijnaccountdracula neem dan contact op met iemand werkzaam bij de dichtstbijzijnde bank. Daar is altijd wel iemand net zo schimmig, niet zelf-reflecterend als u maar met voldoende liquide middelen om te zorgen dat u kunt herstellen en daarna weer normaal bij ons kunt inloggen voor u (bij)bestellingen, tips & tricks, advies inwinnen over nieuwe technologische vernieuwing voor u late night zzp bedrijfje bij het Suck IT forum of voor leuke duistere ornamenten in uw eigen kasteeltje of herenhuis.

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Overture:

I will be discussing the album The Post-Traumatic Manifesto by WeevilDoing and the song “covetous” by GHOST and Pals. These are are pieces of art that discuss some EXTREMELY triggering concepts with ZERO ambiguity, including:

• Pedophilia
• Necrophilia
• Threats of mass violence
• Human trafficking
• Self-harm
• Eating disorders
• Suicidal behavior
• Religious abuse
• External and internal ableism (specifically regarding ME/CFS)
• More shit I'm absolutely forgetting

These are pieces of art about being brutally, deeply traumatized, and the nature of how people ended up traumatized. I very staunchly stand on the side of art that is willing to be transgressive just for the sake of it, but this art that is transgressive because it documents real shit that happens to real people and how it makes them feel. I believe it is unethical to force people to prove that they're “licensed” or whatever to talk about a triggering topic just because it happened to them, but both GHOST and WeevilDoing have explicitly stated that these works are based on real life experiences, and I genuinely believe both are fucking gorgeous works of art that should be experienced by anyone willing to stomach them. With that said, there is a reason “covetous” is the only song I've ever gotten an 18+ warning for on the vocaloidlyrics miraheze, and “Chocolate-Box Girl” is the only song I've seen that has been outright excluded from having its lyrics hosted on the site (for context: “Zako” by Hiiragi Magnetite was allowed under the Akita Neru version, and other songs just as blatantly about CSA like Utsu-P's “Adult's Toy” or, of course, “covetous” by GHOST remain on the site). While this essay will not delve in depth on the songs and their topic, I do fervently recommend both and suggest that people listen to both in full.

I also want to start by saying this: I am going to say a lot of things that indicate that I do not like The Post-Traumatic Manifesto. I want to make it abundantly clear that, aside from a few technical qualms and matters of taste, I think it is one of the most fascinating albums I have ever heard, and that the majority of people who will find and listen to this album will fucking adore it. I do not want people to come away thinking that WeevilDoing made “bad art”, or that they have made anything other than a masterpiece. I want more people to listen to this, to have the experiences I didn't, to have gorgeous and difficult conversations on the nature of mental health, mental healthcare, trauma, everything. I want someone to find this album and have it awaken within them a feeling that, like the characters depicted within, they too can find hope and salvation. We good? We good. Let's go

Act I:

A few days ago, I was scrolling through a few tags on VocaDB, and kept noticing a single album across a plethora of the most interesting ones to me. I clicked into the page for The Post-Traumatic Manifesto by WeevilDoing and was greeted with this across the page. If you have known my artistic tastes, both past and present, you should know this shit is like catnip to me. Within the hour, I had the album pulled up on my phone, excited and ready to listen to something that could have been my album of the year. Forty-one minutes later, I was sitting around wondering just why I felt so disappointed, nearly repulsed, to the point where it was the least favorite thing I had encountered in half a decade.

I think it's easiest to start with the less controversial parts. While VocaDB lists this as an industrial and experimental album, I think the “noise pop” tag here is probably most apt. Even within that space, this is a little closer to the poppier end than I generally find myself enjoying. I'm also just...befuddled at the choice to use SeeU here. There's a 15-year-old song from a Korean producer literally making fun of how poor English-language SeeU songs tend to sound. “Splitter Girl” would likely be one of my favorite tracks on the album if it was intelligible. English-language vsynth is already playing on fuckin'...Producer Must Die mode. It's not that WeevilDoing is a poor tuner (in fact, they're a fantastic tuner. “Caliber Girl” is fucking gorgeous on that front), but this just hubristic. I also personally tend to like music where the vocals are mixed a little quieter into the mix, feeling like part of the instrumentation rather than rising above it. Vocals here tend to stand out a little too much for my preferences here, but that's an extremely minor thing.

It's also worth stating that this wasn't originally an album meant to be listened to in a single sitting. Each track was released serially, alongside a carrd.co page for each character explaining who they are, giving them a sona, and a short blog post from each of them. Listening to this as an album robs it some of the breathing room each of the characters needs and deserves. Thankfully, an interlude gives room between the two songs I think need it most, in the transition between “Caliber Girl” and “Chocolate-Box Girl”. I think the sequencing of the songs in the album (something I do care about) is great. Mayyyyyyyyyyyybe I would move “Refraction Girl” somewhere else, but beyond that, zero complaints. If these were my only issues with the album, I'd sit it solidly next to something like All Hail West Texas by The Mountain Goats, something where I can see exactly why and where people love it but ultimately is something not for me. I'd've listened to it, told people I know to listen to it, and promptly put it down and never think about it again.

Unfortunately for me, The Post-Traumatic Manifesto has a tenth character, with her own song, and in one fell swoop loses me entirely. Objectively speaking, “Nurse Parallel, PMHNP” is the gorgeous and correct way to end this album. A soaring anthem of hope, and likely an anthem describing the creator's own hope through inpatient therapy. It's likely most people's favorite track off the album, and I can't fucking stand it.

Intermezzo:

So, this is where the turn happens. The next part of this is gonna be pretty abrasive, and a lot less cohesively structured. It's a ramble. Maybe get a drink of water or something before you go in.

You ready? Let's go.

Act II:

“covetous” by GHOST and Pals is a song about your father wanting to kill you so he can rape you. I discovered it the same day I listened to Manifesto, and the dichotomy to my reaction to the two is why I'm writing this in the first place. It is pulsating, grinding, industrial darkness. It is vile. It is aggressive. It is threatening. It is raw. It is unambiguous. It is voyeuristic. It is a window into the worst things that people can feel, can do. This is what I want. This is the feeling I get from art that can't be bought anywhere else. I have enough music spreading messages about how you can get better if you just do the right things society asks of you. Go to therapy, take your meds, put down the knife, put down the blunt. Do all these things, magically things get better. I don't fuckin' care. I'm glad it worked for y'all, but it ain't worked for me. I want art that lives in that pit of darkness in your chest. I want art that reminds you of its buried presence, ripping it out from deep within your heart and making you stare at it. That black, pulsating mass that infects from within and without. “covetous” is bleak, terrifying, despair-inducing. It is what almost art is afraid of being. The same societal forces that tell you “Go to therapy, get a job, and you'll find friends that way” are the same ones that scare people away from making art about how shit just fucking sucks sometimes, that people do things to you that leave you feeling angry, hurt, alone, scared, weak, and that all you can do is fucking sit in it. The VN space calls this “utsuge”, literally “depressing game”. I feel no connection to folks who are getting better and channel that feeling into art. It's not that it's bad, it's that I can derive no value, no meaning from it. When art talks about how it gets better, it loses me. When art talks about how trauma can linger, festering like a wound, it grips me. It is a feeling I know all too well, and it's one I don't particularly get to share too often. I didn't go through what GHOST went through, but I'll be thinking about that bridge in “covetous” long before I can pick a favorite track from Manifesto. I don't want bittersweet, leaving you with a slight lasting saccharinity as relief from off-putting bitterness. I don't want kintsugi, strands of gold leaving that which was broken looking more beautiful than when it was fixed. I want bitterness that leaves you begging, not for sweetness to override it, but for something to wash it away clean to let the agony you just went through resonate throughout your mind. I want to cut myself sweeping up the shards of broken glass from a dropped plate, a reminder that brokenness is a state that itself produces something worth feeling.

This is something that Manifesto could never be, nor should it have tried to be that. It is not a lesser album for telling its story the way it should be told, but it is an album I cannot fathom caring for as a result. Earlier this year, I encountered viagr aboys by Viagra Boys, an album where I struggled to pick out a single thing I enjoyed, surrounded by friends who loved it and who were excited to hear me rave about it when I finished listening to it. The best thing I could say about viagr aboys was that the first two seconds of “The Pyramid of Health” reminded me of “Sex and Candy” by Marcy Playground, a song I actually liked. Despite being full of songs I absolutely enjoyed more than the entirety of viagr aboys, Manifesto immediately landed itself at the bottom of my list of albums I listened to this year, and even relistening to it to write this did not warm me to it at all. If anything, I enjoyed it less knowing that “Nurse Parallel” waited for me at the end of it all. This is a uniquely frustrating relationship to have with a work of art, but I would rather be frustrated and honest than lie about enjoying something I didn't.

Encore:

Writing this was mostly an excuse to explore my own emotions on how art depicts hope. Yes, the fact that I am using the term “hope” for art like “Nurse Parallel” while describing “covetous” as “despair-inducing” is because I have been recently going through the Danganronpa games with a friend. If you can find a better dichotomy of terms, please feel free to send them to me by snail mail. They end up on my back porch a lot, I'm sure one of them will relay the message to me. If you derive literally anything of value from this then uhhhhhh...

👍

Every new day brings another last day of something else. Today is the last day of a paycheck while I am on leave of absence. I forecasted this paycheck and while I am grateful that it is here, now I have to figure out how to make it last an unknown amount of time. Well, newsflash that is nearly impossible as I am an adult with bills and debt.

While it is possible I begin to struggle in the coming weeks or months, let’s be real about the workplace. I despise the eight-hour day, five-day week structure we never agreed to but live by anyway. I may not be super philosophical or knowledgeable on the history behind this set up, but it sucks. It takes precious time away from family, friends, and things that genuinely bring joy. I am all for making money and having a good steady career, but why is it at the cost of living? I want to make enough to survive while having plenty of time for what makes me, me. Capitalism has spoiled us all into thinking this is normal. Make money to afford the things you want while those same companies pay under a livable wage so that you dedicate the majority of your life making someone else rich. It doesn’t make sense.

To make matters worse, most workplaces are run by incompetent managers that get an entry-level managing position and somehow let that ‘power’ go to their head and treat you like crap.

I suppose you could say I am angry.

Thank you for your message. I am currently out of office with no set return date. I will get back to you when the time is right.

Growing up I had a large oak desk and I miss it. Unfortunately, my place is small and crowded for a second one. My wife uses an adjustable one for work. Ever since becoming a stay-at-home dad, my need for a desk or the dining table to write grows less.

One thing I noticed when I worked as a private investigator is I always used my right thigh to hold and write on my yellow legal pads. I still use this technique to this day. I wrote this article draft while sitting on the couch next to my younger son as he flipped pages from a book.

That’s the price to pay for being a field writer. You use whatever resources available to you in order to write. Unless you’re an amputee, sorry, your thighs are always with you if you need a writing surface.

The lesson: you don’t need expensive equipment or the best writing setup in order for you to write. Trying to do that will prevent you from writing. Your notebook, pencil, and thighs are all you need. Now, go forth and write.

#writing #desk #field #thighs

One of the perks of being temporarily unemployed is being available for family emergencies. My nearly one year old nephew had to stay home today and thankfully I was able to help watch him. Poor baby is not feeling too well, but I was grateful to have the opportunity to be there for him.

Afterwards, I went for a walk and then to pottery for a few hours before meeting my parents for lunch. I felt super tired around 3pm so I took a nap (another perk of being temporarily unemployed). I napped for a few hours, waking up refreshed and ready for an important World Cup game. Thankfully, we got the result we needed!

Although I am focusing on all my silver linings, there is still the impending doom of my situation hovering over me every day. I keep checking the status of things, but have yet to receive the update I need. I suppose I will keep checking every morning and continue to acknowledge that it is outside of my control.

Thank you for your message. I am currently out of office with no set return date. I will get back to you when the time is right.

A small glimpse of hope.

I am still waiting for good news, but I continue to remain hopeful and productive.

Although my days have not gone exactly as I hoped, I have been getting the rest and recovery that my body desperately needed. I am keeping spirits high and managing stress levels to the best of my ability. On today’s agenda I have laundry, desk cleanout, 10k steps, workout class, and task scheduling for the next few days.

Thank you for your message. I am currently out of office with no set return date. I will get back to you when the time is right.

You’re sitting in the doctor’s office. The test results are in. The doctor comes in, you’re scanning their face to see if it’s good news or bad news. They’re about to tell you your fate. The doctor tells you that your disease is in its advanced stages. They tell you that with proper treatment options, your best outcome is about two to three years. Two to three years is all you hear. Two to three years to live. Maybe you just bought a house, or had a kid. Maybe you just got married, you had your future planned out. Now you only have two to three years. What will you do now? In Part One of this series, I made the case for carrying on as usual. In Part Two, I want to explore why carrying on is the obvious thing to do and how it may serve to reorder our lives now rather than after a dire prognosis.

What is it about receiving a dire health prognosis that scares us so much? Is it knowing that we’re going to die? Most people know they’re going to die—they’ve known this since childhood. No, it’s something else. Maybe it’s knowing that it’s happening sooner than you thought? Prior to receiving the prognosis, you assumed you were going to live to old age but with one major caveat—that you may not. Since the prognosis, a new assumption has formed: now it’s assumed you won’t live to old age, but there is still a remote possibility you may beat it and live a long life. Your assumptions have changed, but uncertainty remains. It’s the same uncertainty you’ve lived with your whole life. Of course, there is the very real implication of needing to undergo treatment and face disability and hardship related to your ailment. But again, this was always a possibility before your prognosis. You’ve been sick before. You seek treatment, you try to get better.

Consider a world without our beloved doctors. In this world, there is no one to examine our symptoms and tell us we have x amount of time to live. A farmer gets sick. At first the farmer feels fine enough to carry on working in the field. She works in the field, but maybe feels a bit more tired than usual. She goes on like this for a few months, over the span of a number of months her work days gets shorter and shorter. Then one day the farmer decides she’s too tired to work in the field entirely— maybe she sends one of her children to replace her. She’s realizing that something is gravely wrong. Perhaps she has an intuitive thought that she doesn’t have much longer. She spends the rest of her days housebound— she’s too tired and too sick. Then one day, about eight months after the first signs of her mysterious ailment, she passes away. She got sick, she carried on farming to the extent she physically could, and then she died. This reveals that in the absence of a prognosis there was never any reason to do anything other than what she was already doing. She carried on exactly as she had been until she couldn’t.

I’m skeptical of the narrative that a prognosis should serve as a call to action—a call to suddenly change the course of your life to live it fully. Right now, you may have only ten months to live. Perhaps ten months from now you will die in a car accident—a morbid thought, I know. Despite this, you’re probably not living like you only have ten months to live and you’re probably okay with that. So then when the doctor says you have ten months to live what new information has the doctor actually given you?

Receiving a dire health prognosis should change nothing. You were okay with your life before, so why should it be any different after a prognosis? It shouldn’t. Disease obviously introduces physical limitations that need to be managed. Certain diseases demand rigorous treatments with debilitating side effects. You deal with your symptoms as you would any other time you’ve been sick, you try to get better, but the prognosis should in theory not stop you from doing or wanting to do what you’ve always done before because nothing about your situation has really changed.

Even though a prognosis should change nothing, this insight is still very much a call to action. It reveals that if you can’t tolerate the idea of doing what you’re doing now after a dire health prognosis, then it means that you shouldn’t be doing it now. The point is, we should be cultivating a full and meaningful life that we’d be happy to carry on with even after a dire health prognosis.

This is different from the popular motto live life like it’s your last day. The problem with this motto is that it doesn’t take into account what you’re already doing. This motto allows us to put it off until the day we realize that our lives are limited by a dire health prognosis. What I’m saying is that you’re already living life like it’s your last, because every day already could be your last. A diagnosis doesn't hand you a new timeline. It hands you the truth you've already been living by. Carry on. But carry on honestly.

What Does It Profit a Man

by Dan De Lion

There’s a question older than any platform, older than any market, older than the noise we call modern life:

What does it profit a man to gain the whole world and lose his soul.

It’s not a religious line. It’s a human one. A line drawn in the dirt between value and worth, between living and being used.

And lately, I’ve been watching a culture forget the difference.

We’ve built an economy where a person’s visibility is treated as their value, where the body becomes a billboard, and where the self — the quiet, private, unrepeatable self — is chipped away and sold in fragments. The fans‑industry is only one corner of it, but it’s the clearest mirror we’ve got.

Because here, the trade is naked:

Your being for their coin. Your presence for their attention. Your dignity for their demand.

And the world calls it empowerment.

But empowerment that requires self‑commodification is just exploitation with better branding.

The question — What does it profit a man — cuts through the slogans. It asks what we’re really gaining, and what we’re quietly losing while we clap for ourselves.

You can gain followers and lose your boundaries. You can gain income and lose your inner life. You can gain attention and lose the sense that you’re more than what strangers consume.

A culture can lose its soul too. When it teaches its young that their worth is measured in subscribers, that their intimacy is content, that their body is a product, it hasn’t evolved — it’s just found a shinier way to forget what a person is.

The question stands there, unblinking:

What does it profit you to be seen by everyone and known by no one.

What does it profit you to be desired by thousands and valued by none.

What does it profit you to gain the whole world and lose the part of yourself that cannot be replaced.

I don’t write this to condemn the people trying to survive. I write it to condemn the system that tells them survival requires selling their own reflection.

A human being is not a product. A soul is not a subscription. And any industry that forgets this is already bankrupt.

i u w e l n i i n o t j s v z z s e e z e i r n i n n b d j d g a i n e n n n V d g i a n d n m s m a e u i a V t b d r o s d o o h t e m r i a l b t n s u i t t i j e i o t g e n a i e h a a s l e l n r s d d a k e e n e d d n e A e b a r a o r s a p d r -

Honestly today I was just feeling myself. I low-key was in that flow state, smooth with it type beat. I’m looking forward to this three day weekend!

App Priciatie

van OverJoid makers van AppArt en App eraatski.

Welkom bij App riciatie, log in op u mijnappreciatie account voor persoonlijke waardering voor u met alle hulp nodig van het App priciatie Team, drie man sterk heel veel huizend op een zolderkamer ergens in een tech deel van de hoofdstad omringd door veel tech en soms wat dope en verder bedroefend weinig.

U wou ondanks alles App priciatie installeren en dankzij ons en u eigen ingevoerde data krijgt u dat gedaan. U heeft net als iedereen dagelijks zelf waardering nodig en hier regelen we dat. Stap voor stap krijgt u iedere dag een beetje meer zelf waardering.

Level 0

U bent nu op level 0, niet veel soeps doch slechts 1 veeg omhoog verwijderd van level 1.

Level 1

Naar Behoren! Wat een verbetering! En ontzettend snel, zo u bent echt vaardig. Wij Appreciëren u. Bent u tevreden?

Ja | Nee

Ja

Level 2

Dit Lijkt Er Op. Niet te geloven en dat met alleen u vingers, er zijn er niet veel die dit meteen kunnen. Het is verbazend waar een mens toe in staat is. We wisten echter dat u het kon, wij zorgen enkel dat het er uit komt. We geven u drie sterren, u mag zelf eentje vullen waarmee u aangeeft dat u de ster bent in alle te vertellen verhalen!

[ * ][ * ][ * ]

Level 5

Zomaar 3 niveaus overgeslagen, geweldig! U laat het wel zien. Een man vol talenten. Waar haalt u het vandaan. Er zijn heel veel mensen die dit level nooit bereiken en u bent er al. Wij zullen ten teken van grote waardering u naam drie keer scanderen. Van Voorbijgaande Aard Van Voorbijgaande Aard Van Voorbijgaande Aard. Wat ons betreft bent u toe aan De lijn tussen 1 en 10 waar u over heen kunt schuiven naar het resultaat.

1 – – – – – – 10

Level 6

Meesterlijk, perfect uitgevoerd. We hebben nog nooit iemand gezien die op dergelijke wijze gewoon alles met een dergelijke lijn kan. Volgens onze gegevens heeft u het meer dan helemaal goed gedaan. De Appreciatie scouts hebben u gezien en u naam staat nu bovenaan de ranglijsten van de top van de appriciatie companies.

Geef hier onder aan hoeveel u waard bent

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Level 7

Een aardige inschatting maar net te laag een paar nulletjes erbij is geen overbodige luxe, zeker niet na deze opdracht. Bij de appreciatie makelaars staat de telefoon voortdurend te ringeltunen en de mailbox vol, ze hebben u nodig, willen u erbij, u bent de prioriteit, een speciale. Wij moeten even bekomen van u aanwezigheid in onze App riciatie rangen. Wacht aub 45 tellen op ons. Kijk ondertussen even naar de reclame voor Wasmiddelen, Streaming services en Penis enhancers.

Level 8

Formidabel, de focus, die skills, dat vermogen. Zo zou iedereen reclame moeten innemen. U heeft geen enhancement nodig. U heeft alles al wat een ander nodig heeft om iemand als u te bewieroken, wij zijn blij dat u in onze nabijheid verblijft. Dit hadden we toen we hiermee begonnen nooit verwacht, zo veel succes, kans op succes en aanhoudend succes rondom ons, wij eenvoudige computer werkers programmeerderend in een superluxe kantoor in de beste stadswijk voor Informatie AI Technologie, Smægmå Oost, Siliconen Wijk. U heeft als beste ooit level 8 bereikt. Wacht 24 uur voor u weer dergelijke geweldige dingen doet. Wij zijn alvast blij dat u dit voor ons heeft gedaan. Eerwaarde Supergetalenteerde Van Voorbijgaande Aard.

U heeft betaald voor de reclame luwe economische versie wilt u nog minder reclame ga dan over op App priciatie Pro of kies Pro Plus en zorg dat wij helemaal geen reclame sturen naar u mijnappreciatie account.

I like to be critical of the internet these days with the increase in content that is obviously not created by humans, and the idea of the algorithm that has bothered me for a long time. I do get things on my screen that interest me. Things about music, running, fitness, science and space, or whatever. I don't really find it necessary though to get eighteen articles on different sites about the same things with slightly different artificially generated words.

That's what the data centers are for though, right?

Ah, fuck it, who needs water anyway?

sigh

Every once in awhile the internet coughs up something weird into my feed that lures me in. Some days ago while I was having lunch at work I was scrolling absentmindedly, looking at headlines and pictures while I ate. I saw a headline about giant penguins that existed on earth millions of years ago. I took the bait, and clicked.

It was a pretty random, mildly interesting read about the fossilized remains of giant penguins that were the size of humans. They were discovered in New Zealand. I don't recall facts, like who discovered them, where, and when. I know they had an official scientific name that I don't recall. I've never been great at retaining facts unless it is something I require in my life. But I read it, and later on found myself thinking about it.

I found myself wondering... is it beyond the realm of possibility, that if the earth could produce a human sized penguin, maybe it could produce a new version of us, only tiny? Like millions, or even hundreds of millions of years after we inevitably end ourselves. Maybe a million years after we are gone the planet gets pummeled by a cluster of asteroids and ends up a massive spherical smoldering ember that eventually cools and starts the process that leads to forming life again. Maybe the new version of earth will have 2 moons, or rings of diamond and gold dust or something. wtf

I thought of us, and everything that we have created, scaled down. Everything else in nature the same size it is now. Just us as tiny. Like the tallest of us the height of a cat or smaller. And then those tiny versions of us figure shit out similarly to the way we have now with industry, technology and transportation. A weird little miniature village version of us. Only not a village. A miniature humanity version of the us that exists now. Upright walking, conscious thinking, self aware, opposable thumbed, language speaking, rodent sized society building shit.

Then maybe the earth will belch up fossilized remains of the us of now for those fictional future miniature versions of us to find. Skeletons that miraculously survived the asteroid pummeling. They would be horrified and fascinated at the same time. Like we are with dinosaurs. I would hope that there would not be enough evidence to tell the tale of who we were. Maybe they will imagine good things about us if there was no evidence remaining of how terrible we were to each other and to the planet.

I guess I'm making an assumption that their tiny size might somehow make them successful at all the things we are failing at. Like they will imagine good things about us because they are good. I think they would be though. Everything would be a threat. Being so tiny, their priorities would be vastly different from ours. Survival would be top priority instead of the economy. The thought of the way we exist now (if you don't have money you don't get to have anything) would be baffling to them.

They would take up less land, and use up a fraction of natural resources. It will require a pummeling of asteroids and a restart of the process after we existed here and fucked it all up. Land and natural resources would all be unlimited to them, not things to squabble over. They would be too distracted by the constant threat of everything else on the planet to think about attacking each other. Travel to other continents might be like space travel. Globalization might never happen.

They would not be a destructive infestation on the surface of the planet endlessly slaughtering each other and stupidly bringing about their own end like we are now. Or maybe all of that is an inevitability no matter what version of us manifests.

provant coses noves