News - April 13, 2025

The sprawl is buzzing, choom. Word on the grid is the orange corpo clown’s tariff hammer is still wrecking the markets, crushing any dream of stability. Corps are sweating bullets, investors yanking their creds like a ripperdoc bailing mid-operation. All 'cause Trump dropped megatariffs on imports like he’s waging a personal war against silicon and solder. Now his handlers are whispering about exemptions for phones and electronics. That’s corpo noise. No solid intel, just static meant to calm the suits while the system keeps crashing.

And that “perfect” cognitive exam? Miss me with that PR-grade flatline. You ever hear of someone with a functional neural stack slapping tariffs on penguins? No amount of corporate whitecoat cover can patch over that kind of mental lag. The test was a flex, nothing more—a corpo smokescreen to distract from the fact that the mainframe upstairs is running outdated firmware.

Meanwhile, the markets are still crashing like a botched firmware update. Dow’s tanking, Nasdaq’s stuttering, and the corps are scrambling to firewall the damage. While Musk is floating in orbit playing space messiah and Trump postures like he’s got the economy on a leash, the rest of the grid’s burning.

So sure, maybe the corpo gonk passed his brain scan. But if they didn’t test for delusions of grandeur, supply chain sabotage, and economic cybercrime, then the whole thing’s just another scripted illusion. Two corpos with too much power and not enough firmware integrity. We’re the ones left rerouting through the wreckage.

So where does that leave us? Caught in the crossfire of bloated egos and collapsing infrastructure, patching our lives together with code and duct tape while the system crashes. But we don’t wait—we jack in and chrome up.