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Description

"FIRST STAGE COMMENCING. WELCOME TO. INTRODUCTION."

Hannah did not know where she was. In front of her was a blank brick wall, and it was very close. In her peripheral vision, she could see two more small walls. The claustrophobia kept her body stiff, but she couldn't move her head anyway, something cold at her neck was restricting her, and she could see from looking down at her arms it was probably some sort of metal band.

"The world is increasingly globalised. Almost all nations and most people are linked by global trade. Commodities are available to more people than ever. There are more resources being mined and transformed into finished goods. There is great abundance and great ability to share that abundance."

The voice was clearly robotic, and coming from above her. She couldn't see the speaker, but it was making no attempt to pretend to be human, though it did have a slight Scottish accent for some reason. Probably to make it more approachable.

At least, she thought, it was telling her some boring demographic information, instead of threatening to sell her to a human trafficker. She was more confused than scared now.

"However. In wealthy nations inequality is still rampant. One fifth of the population teeters on or below the poverty line. And between these developed countries and those they looted to gain their wealth, the inequality is even higher. While decadent bourgeoisie waste their ample resources, people across the world and even in their own nations starve."

Hannah simply continued to wonder why she was receiving a primary school level social studies lecture.

"This continued inequality is driven by a hyper-financialised global market which rewards those already with great investment and takes political power away from the proletariat. You are part of that market economy, and therefore you have been captured."

That was a bit unfair, she thought. Sure, she was a bank manager, and sure they could do with having a bit more due diligence done on their investments. But it wasn't like they were a net negative on the world. The investments she led her team on allowed the creation of jobs across the world. The global market meant that goods were available to everyone, and globalisation meant that war was a thing of the past. Life expectancy was up. Capitalism had done for more good for the world than the dystopia the voice was presenting.

She tried to argue back to that effect, but her voice was quickly cut off.

There was no indication the interruption was on purpose. It seemed to be proceeding automatically.

"SECOND STAGE COMMENCING. WELCOME TO. THOUGHT SUCTION."

Hannah was immediately struck by the strangeness of the phrase. 'Introduction' made sense, and although this whole situation was very weird and it was quite unbelievable that she had been kidnapped so an artificial voice could explain why being a bank manager was evil or some similar student-politics nonsense, it was at least internally consistent. But she had no idea what thought suction was even meant to be. There was no way they could access her thoughts through the penguin of the lightning and the dog saddles were happy but drgdgsdrjawelrj

She blinked. For a moment, Hannah was overwhelmed by a familiar aggravating feeling. Like a conversation had moved on before she could voice her contribution, and the thought was now lost. For a few seconds, she strained to recover the lost idea in her mind, but like always with those feelings, she quickly gave up and moved on to the next thought.

She wondered again where exactly she was. Her watch was under her jacket sleeve, and she had no freedom of movement on her arm to reveal it and find out even what time it was. That shook her, actually. The whole experience had just been surreal until then, but the realisation that she couldn't even do something as simple as roll back her sleeve really got to the swordfish would fly into the night and defenestrate the triangles of fungi sdgweqwasjdfkasjfsd

She blinked. For a moment, Hannah was overwhelmed by a familiar aggravating feeling. Like a conversation had moved on before she could voice her contribution, and the thought was now lost. For a few seconds, she strained to recover the lost idea in her mind, but like always with those feelings, she quickly gave up and moved on to the next thought.

There was a weird sensation actually. She hadn't noticed it because of the general chill of the room and the blankness of her surroundings, but there was something pressing against her temples. It was a light press, or a soft material. Actually, now that she thought about it, it felt like rubber, or maybe latex. Either way, she couldn't swivel her head to look, and her eyes couldn't see what was pressing around her ears, so she didn't really make sticks point about the correct horse battery staple until sdfdgsetrpyker

She blinked. For a moment, Hannah was overwhelmed by a familiar aggravating feeling. Like a conversation had moved on before she could voice her contribution, and the thought was now lost. For a few seconds, she strained to recover the lost idea in her mind, but like always with those feelings, she quickly gave up and moved on to the next thought.

The voice hadn't said anything for a while, which worried her. It wasn't exactly nice to be lectured by a robot or whatever the heck was happening, but it was better than no input at all. She wondered how she had even got here. Retracing her steps, she had left work at about 6pm, like usual, and after getting changed in the gym under the office (it wasn't a gym day so she didn't actually do any exercise), she had head out to the nearby car park to bloviate under many dreaming apples before the button kicked out sdfshfkasfh

She blinked. For a moment, Hannah was overwhelmed by a familiar aggravating feeling. Like a conversation had moved on before she could voice her contribution, and the thought was now lost. She shrugged, and tried to move on to the next thought.

"THIRD STAGE COMMENCING. WELCOME TO. THESIS."

Great, now the voice was going to get to its main laborious point.

"In the midst of global trade, the means of production are being revolutionised. Automation has surpassed the cotton loom to the point where goods can be completed with a minimum of human input. This has exponentially increased the rate of commodity production, meeting the rise in demand from a worldwide market. The load on the worker is, at least conceptually, reduced."

That wasn't bad, Hannah couldn't help but think. Actually, she was proud that this was the sort of thing she was responsible for. AI couldn't revolutionise chemicals production if it wasn't for her bank giving start-up loans to technological entrepreneurs. It was ridiculous that whatever was behind this voice saw her as an enemy. She was a proponent of, no, a cause of progress. Really, the people of the world were indebted to her thanks to her ambivalence over the cardboard whisper sdfsgtrtawe

She blinked. For a split-second, Hannah was overwhelmed by a familiar aggravating feeling. The feeling passed, forgotten. She continued listening to the voice passively, since she had nothing better to do or think about.

"Despite the potential for liberation of workers from the need for constant labour, that has not materialised. Tech has instead been deployed to exploit and monitor workers. And the increased productivity still has highly asymmetric benefits, with the most promising developments in automation only bearing fruit for the richest and most powerful."

Hannah couldn't really see the point. Partly because she was kind of tired out by this whole experience so further thinking to connect was getting harder, but she really didn't see what global inequality had to do with her. It wasn't her fault improving workers' conditions wasn't profitable.

"There is a solution. The world is approaching the point of a post-scarcity society. Without the financialised market, we may have already been there."

She couldn't think through her objection, but Hannah strongly disagreed with that conclusion. Globalisation was a good thing, surely.

"FOURTH STAGE COMMENCING. WELCOME TO. INDUCTION."

The smell of ozone assaulted her nose. Before she could worry, she had already forgotten that she should worry about the smell of ozone.

She heard a sound like the largest computer fan whirring at full capacity. It was above her, but it echoed off the walls of her small prison to bombard her from all sides.

She didn't think any more about how weird and uncomfortable that was.

She stopped thinking about how she got there.

She especially stopped thinking about her objections to what the robotic voice was saying.

Because new thoughts were appearing in her head. She wasn't thinking them, it was like if normal thinking was turning on a light-bulb, these were flares being set off at strategic points in the darkness of her mind.

But because they were being set off in specific places, she was immediately understanding the thoughts. They weren't just standalone ideas, they connected to the thoughts she already had. Well, not exactly, they connected to the reflections in her memory of what she had heard. But either way, the circuits were completed.

Hannah had all the pieces of the puzzle.

She had always been right that globalisation wasn't the problem. Not strictly. The ability to share resources across the world, allowing cultural exchange and more vulgar exchange of raw materials and finished goods, was in itself a good thing. It had been brought about by imperialism and twisted to fit the wishes of the bourgeoisie, but that was a symptom of the failing system, not a problem with the basic phenomenon.

So, it was similar to the problem of automation. Something which was inherently a good thing for people across the world was failing and in its worst expressions actually just becoming part of the oppression.

Traditionally, Marxists would say that the solution to exploitation of the proletariat by the bourgeoisie would be for the workers to seize the means of production. But in an age of virtual commodities and automatic manufacturing, it is much harder and sometimes nearly impossible to conceptualise how to seize the means of production. Workers could occupy a factory, but not an algorithm. So modern social democratic wisdom would be to tax the capital gains of the bourgeoisie and use that to redistribute wealth and necessities.

Hannah had endorsed that view in the past. It seemed pragmatic and fair. Instead of interfering in the natural systems of the market, there would just be intervention at the end of the process to ensure everyone had a level playing field.

But as her brain absorbed more of the dialectical science, she understood her old viewpoint was insufficient. For starters, it did not address structural inequality, the idea of social mobility was all well and good but it was so often clearly denied, especially to the international proletariat.

It was worse than that, though. In the modern means of production was the possibility for a post-scarcity society, where the dream of providing every person's needs was finally practically achievable. All that was needed was the courage to dismantle the financialised system and the vision to build a global distribution network.

"FIFTH STAGE COMMENCNG. WELCOME TO. PLEASURE."

Hannah could see a better future now. The flares in her mind erupted into fireworks of jubilation. She shuddered in her restrictive chair as pleasure surged through her body.

There was a possibility for a fully automated society. It would not take a qualitative leap forward in technology to allow all necessities to be automatically farmed, packed and distributed. All it would need was central planning and the will to reorganise global production.

And what a world it would be!

With basic needs fully met, and no need for the majority of labour, people would be free to pursue higher things. Artists would be able to make their art freely, inventors would have time and freedom to push the boundaries of possibility. Music and sport would become more diverse as more people would have the chance to turn professional and widen the pool of talent. And all of that would mean that luxury products would proliferate even more, while necessary products were freely available.

She knew there could be a society of automatic wellbeing and unimaginable pleasures, all available to every human equally.

It was a superlative, an unlikely dream. But it was possible. And Hannah felt almost supernaturally happy about it. Every new image of the world that was possible brought a new surge of warmth through her body. Her thoughts were explosions of happy possibility, expanding out into the emptiness of the rest of her mind. It felt like her head was swimming, but in the same way a dolphin might. Her feelings were distorted and felt like they were coming through water, but they were viscerally joyous and excited, moving around and making her dizzy even as she sat perfectly still.

The feeling spread down her neck and into her body. Her skin prickled with unconstrained excitement. Her heart pumped faster, she could feel its pounding in every part of her body. She felt warm and ready to do anything.

It was euphoria.

She knew what her goal was. Now she just needed direction, somewhere to channel this energy and turn it into happiness.

But her head was empty except for the possibilities, she didn't know what to do.

Until the amazing, intelligent, helpful voice spoke again.

"SIXTH STAGE COMMENTING. WELCOME TO. PRAXIS."

Her body cooled. Instantly her thoughts snapped to attention, becoming completely stationary. They stepped back from the voids of her empty mind, so the voice could fill the gaps.

Hannah was ready to learn, and then she would be ready to act.

"You know that a better world is possible with the technology currently available. You know a utopia is possible with only quantitative advancements of the technology currently available. You have been taught this because you can help."

That was the most important thing she had ever heard.

"The only way to achieve this world is to completely rewrite the current power relations of the world we live in. The means of production must be moved out of the ownership of the bourgeoisie and put under the control of the global proletariat. In this world, that means giving the power to allocate new technologies and the development of those technologies to the democratic will of the people, rather than the will of vested and wealthy interests. For this to happen, the entire political system needs to be reworked."

Hannah couldn't speak, there was no way she could make herself interrupt the voice. But she had questions all the same. She was one woman, she couldn't rewrite the rules of the world - rules which themselves didn't have specific writers and had simply resulted from the natural drift towards an optimal state for people who held the most power.

"No-one can do that alone. Right now, it is likely it is not even possible. First wealth must be redistributed so that no single actor or group of actors has the raw economic power to prevent any progress, and so then it will be possible to impress revolutionary change on the powerful states they have controlled. You can help with that."

Again, the empty sky of her mind was filled with fireworks of jubilant thought.

She was an investment banker, and a good one at that. She understood the system that so many of her comrades simply hated. She had been corrupted by the system to the point that she would never willingly undermine it, but that was the beauty of how she was now.

She was no longer willing.

She would do what she could. She would invest in co-operative movements and work to sabotage wealthy investors - specifically their loopholes and monetary safehouses which would insulate them from the effects of the next absolutely inevitable economic crash.

She would do it all automatically.

Once she was released and left this building, she would work to ensure the proletarian revolution with no further input from the voice. Her self had been unwritten, rewritten and reprogrammed.

Hannah has just another part of the global machine. An autonomous but fully integrated cog in the global revolution.

Fully automated. Luxury communism.

----

After the events of yesterday, we needed a palate cleanser. But since there's still a high proximity to Shitpost Day, the leftist palate cleanser is taking the form of an extended riff on a shitpost.

Hey, you people voted for more political hypno. And you knew who I was when you voted, I assume.

You knew this was coming.

Does this count as fembot hypno as well? I'm going to pretend it counts as fembot hypno so I don't feel bad for that subset of fetishists if I don't do anything fembot-y for the rest of the year.

Description

"FIRST STAGE COMMENCING. WELCOME TO. INTRODUCTION."

Hannah did not know where she was. In front of her was a blank brick wall, and it was very close. In her peripheral vision, she could see two more small walls. The claustrophobia kept her body stiff, but she couldn't move her head anyway, something cold at her neck was restricting her, and she could see from looking down at her arms it was probably some sort of metal band.

"The world is increasingly globalised. Almost all nations and most people are linked by global trade. Commodities are available to more people than ever. There are more resources being mined and transformed into finished goods. There is great abundance and great ability to share that abundance."

The voice was clearly robotic, and coming from above her. She couldn't see the speaker, but it was making no attempt to pretend to be human, though it did have a slight Scottish accent for some reason. Probably to make it more approachable.

At least, she thought, it was telling her some boring demographic information, instead of threatening to sell her to a human trafficker. She was more confused than scared now.

"However. In wealthy nations inequality is still rampant. One fifth of the population teeters on or below the poverty line. And between these developed countries and those they looted to gain their wealth, the inequality is even higher. While decadent bourgeoisie waste their ample resources, people across the world and even in their own nations starve."

Hannah simply continued to wonder why she was receiving a primary school level social studies lecture.

"This continued inequality is driven by a hyper-financialised global market which rewards those already with great investment and takes political power away from the proletariat. You are part of that market economy, and therefore you have been captured."

That was a bit unfair, she thought. Sure, she was a bank manager, and sure they could do with having a bit more due diligence done on their investments. But it wasn't like they were a net negative on the world. The investments she led her team on allowed the creation of jobs across the world. The global market meant that goods were available to everyone, and globalisation meant that war was a thing of the past. Life expectancy was up. Capitalism had done for more good for the world than the dystopia the voice was presenting.

She tried to argue back to that effect, but her voice was quickly cut off.

There was no indication the interruption was on purpose. It seemed to be proceeding automatically.

"SECOND STAGE COMMENCING. WELCOME TO. THOUGHT SUCTION."

Hannah was immediately struck by the strangeness of the phrase. 'Introduction' made sense, and although this whole situation was very weird and it was quite unbelievable that she had been kidnapped so an artificial voice could explain why being a bank manager was evil or some similar student-politics nonsense, it was at least internally consistent. But she had no idea what thought suction was even meant to be. There was no way they could access her thoughts through the penguin of the lightning and the dog saddles were happy but drgdgsdrjawelrj

She blinked. For a moment, Hannah was overwhelmed by a familiar aggravating feeling. Like a conversation had moved on before she could voice her contribution, and the thought was now lost. For a few seconds, she strained to recover the lost idea in her mind, but like always with those feelings, she quickly gave up and moved on to the next thought.

She wondered again where exactly she was. Her watch was under her jacket sleeve, and she had no freedom of movement on her arm to reveal it and find out even what time it was. That shook her, actually. The whole experience had just been surreal until then, but the realisation that she couldn't even do something as simple as roll back her sleeve really got to the swordfish would fly into the night and defenestrate the triangles of fungi sdgweqwasjdfkasjfsd

She blinked. For a moment, Hannah was overwhelmed by a familiar aggravating feeling. Like a conversation had moved on before she could voice her contribution, and the thought was now lost. For a few seconds, she strained to recover the lost idea in her mind, but like always with those feelings, she quickly gave up and moved on to the next thought.

There was a weird sensation actually. She hadn't noticed it because of the general chill of the room and the blankness of her surroundings, but there was something pressing against her temples. It was a light press, or a soft material. Actually, now that she thought about it, it felt like rubber, or maybe latex. Either way, she couldn't swivel her head to look, and her eyes couldn't see what was pressing around her ears, so she didn't really make sticks point about the correct horse battery staple until sdfdgsetrpyker

She blinked. For a moment, Hannah was overwhelmed by a familiar aggravating feeling. Like a conversation had moved on before she could voice her contribution, and the thought was now lost. For a few seconds, she strained to recover the lost idea in her mind, but like always with those feelings, she quickly gave up and moved on to the next thought.

The voice hadn't said anything for a while, which worried her. It wasn't exactly nice to be lectured by a robot or whatever the heck was happening, but it was better than no input at all. She wondered how she had even got here. Retracing her steps, she had left work at about 6pm, like usual, and after getting changed in the gym under the office (it wasn't a gym day so she didn't actually do any exercise), she had head out to the nearby car park to bloviate under many dreaming apples before the button kicked out sdfshfkasfh

She blinked. For a moment, Hannah was overwhelmed by a familiar aggravating feeling. Like a conversation had moved on before she could voice her contribution, and the thought was now lost. She shrugged, and tried to move on to the next thought.

"THIRD STAGE COMMENCING. WELCOME TO. THESIS."

Great, now the voice was going to get to its main laborious point.

"In the midst of global trade, the means of production are being revolutionised. Automation has surpassed the cotton loom to the point where goods can be completed with a minimum of human input. This has exponentially increased the rate of commodity production, meeting the rise in demand from a worldwide market. The load on the worker is, at least conceptually, reduced."

That wasn't bad, Hannah couldn't help but think. Actually, she was proud that this was the sort of thing she was responsible for. AI couldn't revolutionise chemicals production if it wasn't for her bank giving start-up loans to technological entrepreneurs. It was ridiculous that whatever was behind this voice saw her as an enemy. She was a proponent of, no, a cause of progress. Really, the people of the world were indebted to her thanks to her ambivalence over the cardboard whisper sdfsgtrtawe

She blinked. For a split-second, Hannah was overwhelmed by a familiar aggravating feeling. The feeling passed, forgotten. She continued listening to the voice passively, since she had nothing better to do or think about.

"Despite the potential for liberation of workers from the need for constant labour, that has not materialised. Tech has instead been deployed to exploit and monitor workers. And the increased productivity still has highly asymmetric benefits, with the most promising developments in automation only bearing fruit for the richest and most powerful."

Hannah couldn't really see the point. Partly because she was kind of tired out by this whole experience so further thinking to connect was getting harder, but she really didn't see what global inequality had to do with her. It wasn't her fault improving workers' conditions wasn't profitable.

"There is a solution. The world is approaching the point of a post-scarcity society. Without the financialised market, we may have already been there."

She couldn't think through her objection, but Hannah strongly disagreed with that conclusion. Globalisation was a good thing, surely.

"FOURTH STAGE COMMENCING. WELCOME TO. INDUCTION."

The smell of ozone assaulted her nose. Before she could worry, she had already forgotten that she should worry about the smell of ozone.

She heard a sound like the largest computer fan whirring at full capacity. It was above her, but it echoed off the walls of her small prison to bombard her from all sides.

She didn't think any more about how weird and uncomfortable that was.

She stopped thinking about how she got there.

She especially stopped thinking about her objections to what the robotic voice was saying.

Because new thoughts were appearing in her head. She wasn't thinking them, it was like if normal thinking was turning on a light-bulb, these were flares being set off at strategic points in the darkness of her mind.

But because they were being set off in specific places, she was immediately understanding the thoughts. They weren't just standalone ideas, they connected to the thoughts she already had. Well, not exactly, they connected to the reflections in her memory of what she had heard. But either way, the circuits were completed.

Hannah had all the pieces of the puzzle.

She had always been right that globalisation wasn't the problem. Not strictly. The ability to share resources across the world, allowing cultural exchange and more vulgar exchange of raw materials and finished goods, was in itself a good thing. It had been brought about by imperialism and twisted to fit the wishes of the bourgeoisie, but that was a symptom of the failing system, not a problem with the basic phenomenon.

So, it was similar to the problem of automation. Something which was inherently a good thing for people across the world was failing and in its worst expressions actually just becoming part of the oppression.

Traditionally, Marxists would say that the solution to exploitation of the proletariat by the bourgeoisie would be for the workers to seize the means of production. But in an age of virtual commodities and automatic manufacturing, it is much harder and sometimes nearly impossible to conceptualise how to seize the means of production. Workers could occupy a factory, but not an algorithm. So modern social democratic wisdom would be to tax the capital gains of the bourgeoisie and use that to redistribute wealth and necessities.

Hannah had endorsed that view in the past. It seemed pragmatic and fair. Instead of interfering in the natural systems of the market, there would just be intervention at the end of the process to ensure everyone had a level playing field.

But as her brain absorbed more of the dialectical science, she understood her old viewpoint was insufficient. For starters, it did not address structural inequality, the idea of social mobility was all well and good but it was so often clearly denied, especially to the international proletariat.

It was worse than that, though. In the modern means of production was the possibility for a post-scarcity society, where the dream of providing every person's needs was finally practically achievable. All that was needed was the courage to dismantle the financialised system and the vision to build a global distribution network.

"FIFTH STAGE COMMENCNG. WELCOME TO. PLEASURE."

Hannah could see a better future now. The flares in her mind erupted into fireworks of jubilation. She shuddered in her restrictive chair as pleasure surged through her body.

There was a possibility for a fully automated society. It would not take a qualitative leap forward in technology to allow all necessities to be automatically farmed, packed and distributed. All it would need was central planning and the will to reorganise global production.

And what a world it would be!

With basic needs fully met, and no need for the majority of labour, people would be free to pursue higher things. Artists would be able to make their art freely, inventors would have time and freedom to push the boundaries of possibility. Music and sport would become more diverse as more people would have the chance to turn professional and widen the pool of talent. And all of that would mean that luxury products would proliferate even more, while necessary products were freely available.

She knew there could be a society of automatic wellbeing and unimaginable pleasures, all available to every human equally.

It was a superlative, an unlikely dream. But it was possible. And Hannah felt almost supernaturally happy about it. Every new image of the world that was possible brought a new surge of warmth through her body. Her thoughts were explosions of happy possibility, expanding out into the emptiness of the rest of her mind. It felt like her head was swimming, but in the same way a dolphin might. Her feelings were distorted and felt like they were coming through water, but they were viscerally joyous and excited, moving around and making her dizzy even as she sat perfectly still.

The feeling spread down her neck and into her body. Her skin prickled with unconstrained excitement. Her heart pumped faster, she could feel its pounding in every part of her body. She felt warm and ready to do anything.

It was euphoria.

She knew what her goal was. Now she just needed direction, somewhere to channel this energy and turn it into happiness.

But her head was empty except for the possibilities, she didn't know what to do.

Until the amazing, intelligent, helpful voice spoke again.

"SIXTH STAGE COMMENTING. WELCOME TO. PRAXIS."

Her body cooled. Instantly her thoughts snapped to attention, becoming completely stationary. They stepped back from the voids of her empty mind, so the voice could fill the gaps.

Hannah was ready to learn, and then she would be ready to act.

"You know that a better world is possible with the technology currently available. You know a utopia is possible with only quantitative advancements of the technology currently available. You have been taught this because you can help."

That was the most important thing she had ever heard.

"The only way to achieve this world is to completely rewrite the current power relations of the world we live in. The means of production must be moved out of the ownership of the bourgeoisie and put under the control of the global proletariat. In this world, that means giving the power to allocate new technologies and the development of those technologies to the democratic will of the people, rather than the will of vested and wealthy interests. For this to happen, the entire political system needs to be reworked."

Hannah couldn't speak, there was no way she could make herself interrupt the voice. But she had questions all the same. She was one woman, she couldn't rewrite the rules of the world - rules which themselves didn't have specific writers and had simply resulted from the natural drift towards an optimal state for people who held the most power.

"No-one can do that alone. Right now, it is likely it is not even possible. First wealth must be redistributed so that no single actor or group of actors has the raw economic power to prevent any progress, and so then it will be possible to impress revolutionary change on the powerful states they have controlled. You can help with that."

Again, the empty sky of her mind was filled with fireworks of jubilant thought.

She was an investment banker, and a good one at that. She understood the system that so many of her comrades simply hated. She had been corrupted by the system to the point that she would never willingly undermine it, but that was the beauty of how she was now.

She was no longer willing.

She would do what she could. She would invest in co-operative movements and work to sabotage wealthy investors - specifically their loopholes and monetary safehouses which would insulate them from the effects of the next absolutely inevitable economic crash.

She would do it all automatically.

Once she was released and left this building, she would work to ensure the proletarian revolution with no further input from the voice. Her self had been unwritten, rewritten and reprogrammed.

Hannah has just another part of the global machine. An autonomous but fully integrated cog in the global revolution.

Fully automated. Luxury communism.

----

After the events of yesterday, we needed a palate cleanser. But since there's still a high proximity to Shitpost Day, the leftist palate cleanser is taking the form of an extended riff on a shitpost.

Hey, you people voted for more political hypno. And you knew who I was when you voted, I assume.

You knew this was coming.

Does this count as fembot hypno as well? I'm going to pretend it counts as fembot hypno so I don't feel bad for that subset of fetishists if I don't do anything fembot-y for the rest of the year.