I wasted about 15 minutes with this guide or whatever the fuck it is. Anyone reading this, please don’t bother, just read the Lorax or If You Give a Mouse a Cookie. You’ll get more from the back of a cereal box.
This reads far worse than the dregs on some of the free anarchist essay websites. The writer’s voice is off-putting and not just poorly conversational.
His is the type of conversational tone you might reluctantly find yourself trapped in a line with while at the Jack in the Box. Picture just before closing when you’re already high and too polite to say, “Piss off man, I just want my shitty tacos and maybe cheese sticks or a chicken sandwich.” Now you’re regretting that you lent your car to your roommate so he can go work at the 7 Eleven off of Pine and that Jack in the Box was all that was within walking distance of your apartment. You really just want to go back home to your cat Oscar and zone the fuck out, but here you are, stuck listening to the kid that stands too close and has on that lame ass ahegao hoodie. He smells like a mixture of axe, sweat, finely-aged Dr. Thunder and cheap watermelon vape fluid.
All this to say, that nearly everything, from the top-down, is beyond fucked. The layout and food theme are try-hard, yet incoherent and rambling.
An early antagonist, a developer named “Madden” became “Maddin” a few lines later. Maybe he becomes Aladdin later on when one of the trailers turns out to have had a kerosene lamp that was really a magical lamp.
I imagine the author beaming as he tries rubbing it (the lamp, not what’s in his Gran’s drawer), and he wishes for the 50k jacked-up pickup that he secretly envied. In this version the author chose to trash on his neighbor for living in a 5k trailer, and prioritizing a truck that makes him happy. This shaming happens even though it was made evident that low-income folks in the town were unable to afford a single family home in a neighborhood.
It’s the same bullshit, judging behavior as the twats that point and cry foul when they see homeless people using mobile phones. This disconnect in their minds that rents aren’t more expensive than data plans and that phones help keep people safe just baffles me.
Also, the author doesn’t want you to keep up with the Joneses, who were disguised as the “smith’s”(sic) all along.
I’m not sure beyond that, as I had to bow out. It was around this point that the grammatical and spelling sins became unforgivable and I no longer cared about the 70 trailers, I wanted a red correcting pen and a cup of coffee. I ran a search on “squaller” to see if it was jargon I wasn’t familiar with and it’s just a lazy misspelling.
The “anecdotes” didn’t do it for me either. I wish the dude’s gran had used one of the ten times he asked for a Furby or Thomas the Tank Engine to invest in a dictionary and a grammar book at Walmart. They have them every year around back to school and he could’ve picked up 1984 or another classic to learn how to write. A fucking Harlequin romance novel is a better use of time than this and would’ve taught him more about how to compose a story. I’m sure his gran had a few on her nightstand next to the drawer she keeps locked, because she can’t trust this guy.
— This was not a guide on “how to eat the rich” or any kind of worthwhile playbook. This text is nothing more than the incomplete delusions of a self-important asshole. So rather than becoming hated by your friends for sharing this twofer, simply rip it in half and then rip those halves. Keep ripping it into smaller bits and make confetti so we can all celebrate as the world continues to destroy itself and twats like this waste our time as Putin declares war and Biden mumbles incoherently through another presser.
If you read most of this shit, thank you for indulging me. Godspeed and be safe. 2022 is looking bleaker than just lockdowns and avocado bans.
Edit. Mobile screens are small.