New teaching block, new Reporting teacher, and we’ve been tasked with writing a short piece pondering whether or not the year of our Lord 2023 will be good. Good for whom? Define truth. Answer me, dammit. I don’t know.
Personally, I’ll be finishing my first year of this Journalism degree; that is unless my breakdown becomes more physical and disruptive. I’ll begin the second year in September but then I won’t receive funding because Student Finance England’s chaos algorithm has reached the singularity and replaced all numbers with squirrels.
Maybe we’ll send enough arms to Ukraine to help them fend off Putin or maybe that’ll just cause pandemonium up in a newly NATO Finland right by where all his nuclear toys are stored. You probably should’ve invested in guns, ammunition and rations rather than burning through graphics cards for bitcoin. Those Trump NFTs ain’t gonna be worth shit when the solar flare knocks out the grid, bubby. No, the new crypto is Covid vaccines. Those strange lights in the sky aren’t aliens – they’re our ghosts from the future coming back to warn us about Pfizer mutating SARS-CoV-2 for fiat money benefit.
Maybe we’ll get an election this year, once Tories realise that losing their seat is preferable to losing their head in some awkward British cosplay of the French revolution using nitrous oxide confiscated from children in place of guillotines. Labour will surely get in, right? There’s a lot of hope, just like in 1997, but then we’re overdue a 9/11 and we’ll only have ourselves another Blaire. Better we just sacrifice our children to the owl god now and be done with it.
Only the gods dwell forever in sunlight
As for man, his days are numbered
The Epic of Gilgamesh is the earliest surviving story we have. I wonder if our last to survive has yet been written.
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