When I'm feeling really down, I'll go to the local park and feed the birds. One of the few copes that I can always count on. The crows in particular are rather intelligent and quickly invite their friends and family to the feast. I imagine them being happy and grateful, and perhaps they are. But what am I really doing? I'm giving them peanuts and breadcrumbs so that they can then turn around and procreate and make more birds, and I don't get anything at all except a sick dopamine rush from feeling like I'm connected to mother nature, ya know? What the fuck is up with that? Laugh all you want, but this isn't a joke. Everything in this world is cope and cuckoldry unless you're Chad. You play video games? Some slick corporate hotshot is using his profits made from your need to cope to raise a family. You do drugs to escape? Your dealer is plowing that money into his car so he can pick up more stacies to pump and dump. When you cope, you're facilitating and enabling someone else higher on the ladder to succeed in the sexual marketplace. Not even feeding birds is outside of this. And if you want to escape from this planet? The people who own or are in charge of the rope factories and funeral homes are making bank and getting laid as a result.
