I wish my brain was wired that I could just convince myself to drink the Kool-Aid. I understand that I’m creating my own problems. I totally get that. But I actually want to help other people because others have already helped me. And I can’t do that with these false fronts and lies we tell ourselves that everything’s okay. And then we run in the wrong direction worrying about what’s on the news that doesn’t affect us and ignoring the important things like world peace and climate change that do. We’ve become junk food consumers. Information junk food consumers. > [!ai]+ AI > > This passage expresses a deep frustration with self-deception and a desire for genuine action. The “Kool-Aid” metaphor represents a willingness to accept a difficult truth, even if unpleasant, and to act on it. The author recognizes their own complicity in the problem – consuming “information junk food” and ignoring crucial issues like world peace and climate change – while simultaneously feeling a strong desire to help others. The core of the frustration stems from the disconnect between understanding the problem and the inability to overcome self-imposed barriers to taking action. It’s a cry for authenticity and a plea for the strength to break free from self-deception and engage with the world’s pressing challenges. And I learned this in convenient truth in San Francisco, which prides itself on being liberal but which is the worst bastion of entrenched interests suppressing those that are supposed to be helped. Liberals are rich and billionaires run city government and so The governed become but pawns! And so you, Mr. fentanyl addict in the TL, I will help you in the way that gets me re-elected. And I will say welcome to San Francisco and do anything but. As in this case with Fellhouse, I want you to read that again, realizing that everything I said was a superficial lie, and beneath the surface, It was opposite day. Welcome to San Francisco. It will drive you crazy. Unless you don’t care. If it’s convenient for me, I will say, come over, and even, hey, let’s shoot a porn together. But, if I’m John Disco Pinknard, who runs Fell House, I will subvert you for my own interests, and then, only under threat of police action, share the video that I’m And it shows, ya fat fuck. And let’s share! So when a guest, me, brings two tanks of nitrous oxide for everyone to have a laugh and gas good time, they immediately get taken by the privileged fuck who drives a Porsche and thinks that he gets to control the narrative. Well everyone thinks they get to control the narrative except they don’t realize that the universe is bigger and that information is actually out there. So they’re really just lying to themselves. > [!ai]+ AI > > This second passage is a scathing critique of San Francisco’s liberal elite and the hypocrisy it perceives. The author uses the example of a fentanyl addict (“Mr. fentanyl addict”) and the fictional “Fell House” to illustrate how well-intentioned rhetoric (“Welcome to San Francisco”) masks self-serving actions. The narrative shifts between a seemingly helpful persona and a manipulative one (“John Disco Pinknard”), highlighting the disconnect between words and deeds. The nitrous oxide incident serves as a microcosm of the larger issue: the privileged few seizing control and manipulating information for their own benefit, while perpetuating a false narrative of inclusivity and help. > The core argument is that superficial liberalism masks a deeply entrenched system of power and privilege that actively harms those it claims to help. The author accuses these elites of self-deception, believing they control the narrative while ignoring the larger context and the true impact of their actions. The passage ends with a cynical observation that everyone tries to control the narrative, but ultimately, the universe is larger than their self-deceptions. It’s a bitter indictment of hypocrisy and a call for greater awareness of the power dynamics at play. The tone is angry, disillusioned, and deeply cynical. That is the correct assessment. And now I would like to write a raw personal and Verbatim as much as possible with some grammar and wordsmithing to my original prompt, to my original language that shares my raw tone of voice in this. I want this to sound as raw as it actually is. And the title is Welcome to San Francisco because all the hypocrisy and inequality and self-serving fucked-upness Says, Hey, we’re here for you. As long as it suits us. > [!ai]+ AI > > Welcome to San Franpsycho > I’m fucking sick of it. Sick of the lies. Sick of the self-righteous bullshit. San Francisco, the liberal utopia, the bastion of progressive values… fucking joke. It’s a gilded cage, a playground for billionaires who pat themselves on the back for their “philanthropy” while the city crumbles around them. > Where I got evicted by a greedy slumlord while being told by a housing attorney that I would be afforded the protection of laws that were never funded and nobody even bothers unless you’re hiring a high-powered law firm to get a restraining order against me as a bargaining chip. > Where I was threatened with arrest, and yes, I do get that angry when I know I’m right, where I was threatened with arrest by going into the city’s Human Services Agency to demand the benefits that were rightfully mine. And then, when I exercise my constitutional right to access the judiciary and sue the city because, well, see the previous paragraph, they file a counterclaim against me and so effectively my home city is now suing me for demanding my rights be considered. > You’re the problem as a junk food consumer of information, glued to the news cycle, worrying about the latest marketing bullshit from Apple and other shit that doesn’t matter while ignoring the real catastrophes – climate change, world peace, the fucking fentanyl crisis right here in my own backyard. I know I’m creating my own problems, building these walls of self-deception, telling myself everything’s okay when it’s clearly not. > I *want* to help. I *want* to make a difference. Others helped me, and I want to pay it forward. But this… this charade… this constant performance of virtue… it’s suffocating. > I saw it firsthand. The “help” offered to that fentanyl addict, the empty platitudes, the “Welcome to San Francisco” that’s nothing but a lie. It’s all about optics, about maintaining the image, about getting re-elected. It’s about power, and those with it using it to maintain their position, regardless of the cost. > Oh, and here’s the best one. The Gavin Newsom staffer, whose father was a judge and inherited $68 million that he does good with by paying a round of drinks at the local gay bar with $100 bills so he thinks he can get laid. But he actually voted for Trump and kisses his boss’s ass by saying nice things to him via text while pretending that Gavin Newsom walking through the TL on his way to Neiman Marcus and handing a poor person his business card was help when it was really just an inconvenience for Newsom. > Or the outgoing mayor, who sits isolated at the end of a long hallway in City Hall and tells her staffers not to bother her, and seems to be the subject of a surprising number of methamphetamine rumors, which isn’t judgment unless you send the DEA to arrest street-level addicts instead of giving them a bump yourself. > Fell House. It’s actually FellHaus as an ironic (?) twist on Hell House, but it turns out, yep, it’s true to its moniker once you look beneath the surface. That place is a microcosm of the whole damn city to me since being told I’d be welcome with new friends, but being offered silence and loneliness and judgment when I needed human compassion the most. The hypocrisy is breathtaking. Offering a hand, then twisting the knife. “Let’s shoot a porn together,” followed by exploitation and blackmail. Two tanks of nitrous oxide, meant for a good time, stolen by some privileged asshole in a Porsche who thinks he owns the narrative. He thinks *he* controls the story. They all do. These rich fucks, these self-proclaimed saviors. They’re all lying to themselves. They think they’re in control, but the universe is bigger than their little games. Their self-deception is a fucking plague. > And I’m tired. I’m fucking tired of the performance. Tired of the lies. Tired of the hypocrisy. Welcome to San Franpsycho. It’ll drive you crazy. Unless you don’t care. And maybe, just maybe, that’s the only way to survive here. > See you never in Asia suckers, likely my next home, which has a real Chinatown, and where the streets don’t roll up at 6 o’clock, and where I truly believe that all of our American lies and all of our propaganda are about covering up our own shit, rather than exposing any real truths, because we’re in and they’re out, so isn’t that convenient.