My success? I owe it to hard work, grit, and the funnel of human suffering that is generational wealth. I came from humble beginnings. I was born in seventeen cities at once as my dead eyed sow of a mother extruded me into the belly of a moving private jet. From there, I was raised in what could only be described as a series of private compounds where I was given literally everything my pudding-soft raw meatball of a brain could cogeal into a coherent sentence.
My family was always important to me. I would not be the man I am today without my family's proud history of owning plantations. Yes, I am so horrifically out of touch that I will proudly point to the pallid and incestuous ghouls in my hula-hoop of a family tree, slack-jawed and unaware of how utterly ashamed I should be. In fact, I may even imply that this is aspirational.
When I discovered the petrochemical extraction industry, I knew I had found my dream. My parents bribed me into the best colleges in the country, where I spent the next 20 years of my life pureeing my brain with paychoactives in a hollow attempt to squeeze even a single emotion from the bowl of pureed cauliflower that my brain has become. I graduated top of my class because my parents donated a parking lot.
When I saw my first oil derrick, I experienced something deeper than sexual arousal; a nigh-prophetic sub-primal sensation beating like a drum against my limbic system. I knew it was my destiny to combine the unfathomable violence of my predecessors with the sterile efficiency of late-capitalism. I experienced a waking dream of tar sands packed with writhing human bodies, the turning spear of the derrick thrust into them like the hungry ovipositor of a tarantula hawk wasp.
In order to realize my dream, I knew that I would have to produce neoconservative propaganda videos for children, and post them on YouTube. It is for this reason that I am PROUD to present: Why The Demonic Left Wants To Take Your Sweets And Cakes.
