We're All Clones Here
The authenticity of being just like everyone else.
OPENING SALVO: We’re All Clones Here
This issue covers some uncomfortable territory. The machine’s favorite product: bodies that follow orders without asking questions. DMT entities that knew things they shouldn’t. Chaos magic that worked until it didn’t. The human cost of war that nobody wants to calculate.
Welcome to Issue #2. Let’s go.
New in the Niche of One Store:
You’re Already Infected - You never knew it, but you suspected something. Not with germs, but with ideas. Ideas that govern every second of your day. This guide helps you fight back.
📮 Inbox From Hell
Got an email from a religious organization this week telling me the end was near.
They hit me with the Bible verses. Revelation this, Matthew that. The time was close at hand. Our nation—the good old US of Fucking A—was falling apart at the seams. War was just around the corner. Plagues, pestilence, the whole apocalyptic bingo card.
Our souls were in peril. We needed to get right with the Big G or we’d all burn in the ovens of H-E-Double Hockey Sticks for eternity.
Be afraid, little ones. Be very afraid. Because soon we’ll face the most significant events of any human lifetime.
…and if you renew your subscription today, you lock in a 66% discount on this year’s membership.
I’m not making that up. That was the actual email.
Eternal damnation, fire and brimstone, the end of all things, and oh by the way here’s a coupon code.
You get full access to their forums full of other people freaking out. You get their weekly newsletter with more predictions that won’t come true. You get their special reports on which current events match which prophecies. All yours for three easy payments of $19.95.
I have no problem with religion. I have no problem with people believing what they want. I spent years exploring various systems: Orthodox and Gnostic Christianity, chaos magic, consciousness research. I’m the last person to tell someone their spiritual experiences aren’t valid.
But this? This hypocrisy is beyond sickening.
Using fear of eternal torture to sell subscriptions.
Weaponizing people’s genuine faith to extract money. Turning the apocalypse into a business model. It’s the same grift televangelists have been running since they figured out cameras could reach more marks than tent revivals.
The formula never changes:
Step one: convince people the end is imminent.
Step two: position yourself as the guide who can help them survive it.
Step three: charge them for access to your wisdom.
Step four: when the predicted date passes without incident, move the goalposts and start over.
It works because fear short-circuits rational thinking. It works because people want certainty in uncertain times. It works because genuine spiritual seeking gets hijacked by con artists who know exactly what buttons to push.
I’ve spent years watching how institutions manipulate people through fear. The military does it. Corporations do it. Politicians do it. Gurus do it. Organized religions do it. And they all inspire the bottom feeding fear merchants and fear porn hustlers to do it.
They’re all selling the same thing: protection from a threat they’re simultaneously inflating.
The threat might be terrorism, market collapse, or hellfire. The mechanism is identical. Scare them, sell them, repeat.
What pisses me off isn’t that people are afraid. The world gives you plenty of legitimate reasons for that.
What pisses me off is the vultures who see that fear and think, “How can I monetize this?”
If your spiritual message requires a discount code, maybe examine whether you’re spreading faith or running a protection racket.
If the end of the world has a price point, maybe question whose apocalypse you’re really funding.
And if eternal salvation comes with a money-back guarantee, you might want to read the fine print on that contract.
I’ll take my chances with the Big G without the subscription service, thanks.
🧭 FIELD NOTES: The Machine Elves Knew My Name
The geometry started folding wrong, and I found myself lost in the wilds of the omniverse.
Not hallucination-wrong. Wrong in a way that suggested three-dimensional space was just a polite suggestion the universe had stopped following. And somewhere in that impossible architecture, something was calling my name from a direction that shouldn’t exist.
Mesa, Arizona. 2015. Sitting cross-legged on brown shag carpet from 1974 that smelled like dust and decades of people who’d given up. Glass pipe in hand. Alone in an apartment thousands of miles from anyone I really knew. One very specific question I wanted answered.
The question doesn’t matter anymore. What answered does.
My future self was standing there. If “standing” is the word. If “there” is a place. Wherever I was, it was somewhere between a vision and eating a heaping bowl of Hawking radiation on the edge of nothingness.
He wasn’t some vague impression or symbolic representation. He was me. Older than I am now, but unmistakably me. Same face. Same resting dick face I’ve had my whole life. And a scar running across his lip that I wouldn’t have for another five years.
The fact that it was my older self nearly made my brain short circuit, even boosted by the drugs. He knew I was going to get the bottom half of my face torn open by a dog in about five years. Five years later, it happened. He told me the magick would cost too much, and it did.
And we don’t talk about the third thing.
Let me be clear about something materialists refuse to acknowledge: those entities aren’t hallucinations.
I’ve done enough psychedelics to know the difference between visual distortion and actual contact with something that knows shit you don’t. The machine elves, the entities, whatever McKenna called them before he died. They’re as real as your hand in front of your face.
They just operate on frequencies your meat brain wasn’t designed to receive without chemical assistance.
The scientific establishment treats this like shamanic folklore. Fair enough. Can’t put entities in a petri dish. Can’t replicate the experience in a double-blind study without breaking every ethics protocol ever written. The method demands measurability, and this shit isn’t that.
But here’s what I know after 46 years of thinking for myself and a decade practicing chaos magic before DMT ever touched my lungs: consciousness isn’t produced by three pounds of electrified meat.
It’s fundamental. The brain is a receiver, not a generator. A radio, not the music. DMT just tunes you to a station that broadcasts from outside consensus reality.
The information transfer shouldn’t have been possible. Future events I had no way of knowing. Specific details about people I hadn’t met yet. The dog bite prediction alone—knowing which dog, which situation, exactly where on my face—that’s not brain chemistry misfiring. That’s information coming from somewhere outside linear time.
It proved that there are stranger fucking things in this universe than anyone wants to admit.
Once those predictions came true, the rest of the story he told me made more sense, but I can’t share that. Might collapse the probability of it happening. Might cause a world disaster for all I know.
I never used DMT again after that meeting.
Not because it didn’t work. Because it worked too well. Some doors open easy but close hard. Some knowledge carries a price tag you don’t see until the bill comes due.
Chaos magic taught me that you can manipulate reality, sure, but reality starts manipulating back. I walked away from that practice before the madness took hold, and I walked away from DMT for the same reason.
The thing about meeting your future self is you can’t unknow what he tells you. You can’t unhear the warnings. You can’t pretend the universe operates on the neat little rules they taught you in school. And you definitely can’t go back to thinking consciousness is just neurons firing in patterns.
Living with that knowledge changes things.
Makes you look at consensus reality different. Makes you wonder what else they’re lying about, not from malice but from genuine ignorance. The materialist worldview isn’t wrong because scientists are corrupt. It’s wrong because they’re using instruments that can’t detect what matters most.
I don’t expect you to believe any of this. I wouldn’t have believed it either before it happened.
But I’ve got the scar on my face my future self predicted. I’ve got the chaos magic results that worked until the cost got too high. I’ve got 12 years of military service where I saw the gap between official stories and ground truth.
Pattern recognition across enough weird experiences eventually forms a picture. The picture says: reality is more malleable, consciousness is more fundamental, and the entities are more real than anyone in a lab coat wants to admit.
I’m at peace with never going back. But I’m not at peace with pretending it was just brain chemistry misfiring.
Your mileage may vary. I could be wrong about all of it. Maybe it was just neurons doing circus tricks in oxygen-deprived conditions. Maybe the future self was something I created from anxiety and wishful thinking.
But he knew things I hadn’t told anyone.
He spoke in my voice but with a certainty I didn’t have yet.
And two out of three predictions came true exactly as described.
Draw your own conclusions. I’m good either way.
🔗 3 Useful Things:
Google Workspace covers all the bases for so much of your backend. I use it a LOT!
Here’s a guide to common pages you can add to your website.
Looking for vintage typewriters? Kirk lives down the road from me and his work is worth it.
⚙ OPERATIONS BRIEF: The 80/20 Ops Stack
Most creators I talk to are drowning in subscriptions.
Twenty-plus tools. Three hundred bucks a month. Email marketing platform, social media scheduler, analytics dashboard, project management system, CRM, automation tool, website builder, landing page software, payment processor, course platform, and some AI thing their favorite guru swears will change everything.
None of it talks to each other. Half of it does the same thing as the other half. And they spend more time managing the tools than actually creating anything.
I run my entire operation on about five tools for roughly a hundred dollars a month. Maybe seven if you count the occasional one-off purchases. And they handle everything that actually matters.
Here’s the stack:
Google Workspace ($6/month for the basic plan). Email, docs, sheets, calendar, drive storage. Covers 90% of what most creators need for operations. You can write, organize, plan, collaborate, and store everything in one ecosystem. I’ve got SOPs in Google Docs. Content calendars in Sheets. Files in Drive. It’s not sexy, but it works when you’re exhausted at 11pm.
Substack (Free unless you paywall, then they take 10%). Publishing, email delivery, payment processing, subscriber management, all in one place. No integrations required. No email service + website + payment processor juggling. You write, you hit publish, it goes out. Simple.
Gumroad (10% fee on sales). Digital products without technical overhead. Upload a PDF, set a price, share the link. They handle checkout, delivery, customer support mechanisms. I’ve sold guides on there since 2020. Never had to touch code or wrestle with WordPress plugins.
Canva (Free version works fine). Graphics when you need them. Social images, guide covers, basic design. The pro version has more stuff, but the free tier handles most needs.
Claude (About $22 w/ tax). My brainstorming, research, and editing partner. Highly customized, gives me what I need about 90% of the time. More reliable than a human partner because it doesn’t have opinions or requires sick days.
That’s it. That’s the core.
Sometimes I’ll add a tool for a specific project, but the test is simple: does this directly make money or save significant time? If the answer’s no, it’s gone next month.
Every tool recommendation you see from creator economy gurus comes with an affiliate link. They get paid when you sign up. I’m not saying the tools are always bad. I’m saying the incentive structure is designed to make you think you need more than you do.
You don’t need a twelve-tool Frankenstein stack to publish good work and make a few thousand dollars a month. You need maybe five things that actually work and the discipline to use them consistently.
Most creator problems aren’t tool problems. They’re decision problems disguised as technical limitations.
The minimalist stack works because it removes decisions. Fewer options means less time managing systems and more time doing the actual work.
Try this: audit your current subscriptions. Cancel everything you haven’t used in the last 30 days. Run on the bare minimum for three months. Add tools back only when you hit a genuine constraint that costs you money or time.
You’ll probably end up with about five tools that matter and fifteen you were paying for out of habit.
Simple works. Complexity is expensive.
📰 Articles I Enjoyed This Week:
How Xiaomi Broke Every Law of Corporate Death: An interesting look at Chinese business from
.- put out this beautiful short post that really gets to the heart of it.
🪖THE BODY COUNT NO ONE MENTIONS
I arrived at my first duty station September 2, 2001. Nine days later, everything changed. We went to war. We stayed at war. Twenty-plus years later, we’re still at war, just under different names with rotating enemies in different countries.
They sold us a story.
We bought it because we were 18, 19, 20 years old and didn’t know any better.
They told us we were fighting for freedom. For democracy. For people who couldn’t fight for themselves. Noble cause. Righteous mission. Defend the homeland. Protect American values.
What I saw didn’t match the story.
What I saw was kids sent to die in desert countries most Americans couldn’t find on a map, for reasons that shifted every six months when the previous justification stopped polling well.
What I saw was defense contractors getting rich building equipment we didn’t need to fight enemies we created.
What I saw was politicians from both parties voting for war budgets while their kids went to college on the other side of the world.
What I saw was a machine that needs bodies to function, and it doesn’t particularly care what happens to those bodies once they’re used up.
Let’s talk about the costs nobody calculates when they’re beating war drums on cable news.
The kids who go don’t come back the same. Some don’t come back at all. Gold Star families. Folded flags. Twenty-one gun salutes. The ceremony is beautiful. Doesn’t bring anyone back. Doesn’t answer why their kid died securing a supply route that got abandoned six months later when the strategy changed.
The ones who do come back bring the war home in their heads.
PTSD isn’t a buzzword. It’s waking up at 3am in a cold sweat because a car backfired. It’s hypervigilance in grocery stores scanning for threats that aren’t there. It’s rage that surfaces without warning because your nervous system hasn’t figured out the war ended. It’s relationships destroyed because you can’t explain what you saw and they can’t understand what you won’t talk about.
Twenty-two veterans kill themselves every day. That’s the official number. It’s probably higher because not everyone makes it into the database. Do the math. That’s 8,000 dead veterans a year who survived combat but couldn’t survive coming home. Over 20 years, that’s 160,000 dead from suicide alone.
We don’t build monuments for those casualties.
The families and communities left behind carry weight that never gets lighter. Parents who bury children. Spouses who raise kids alone. Small towns where everyone knows someone who didn’t come back. The economic cost to communities when their young people leave and return broken or don’t return at all.
Military recruiting targets poor communities because rich kids have options. You don’t see the fortunate sons enlisting. You see kids from towns with no jobs, no future, no way out except the recruiter’s promise of education benefits and purpose.
The poverty draft is real. The machine feeds on economic desperation.
The civilians living where we fight don’t get a say in any of this. Their homes become battlefields. Their families become collateral damage. We drop bombs on wedding parties and call it intelligence failures. We kill someone’s father, brother, son—and then act surprised when that someone picks up a rifle ten years later.
This is the part nobody wants to talk about: we create the next generation of enemies every time we go to war. WE do that.
You kill someone’s family, that doesn’t just go away. That’s not something you forgive or forget. That’s generational hate. That’s a 10-year-old watching his village get destroyed, growing up with that image burned into his brain, and at 20 he’s the “terrorist” we’re sending more kids to fight.
The cycle doesn’t end. It’s designed not to end.
Who profits while kids die?
Defense contractors. Lockheed Martin, Raytheon, Northrop Grumman, Boeing. Billions in contracts to build weapons systems we’ll use once and equipment that sits in warehouses. Their stock prices go up every time we start a new conflict. Check the numbers. War is good for business.
Politicians. Both parties. Democrats and Republicans vote for war budgets, take defense industry donations, and send other people’s kids to die while their own go to Ivy League schools. The revolving door between Pentagon and defense contractors means the people making decisions about war personally profit from those decisions.
Think tanks funded by defense money publish papers explaining why we need to invade the next country. Media outlets owned by corporations with defense contracts sell the war to the public. It’s not a conspiracy. It’s just business. War makes money for people who don’t fight wars.
The economic system requires constant conflict. We’ve built an economy that needs enemies, needs weapons production, needs military bases in 80 countries, needs a reason to keep spending $800 billion a year on defense while people die from lack of healthcare.
Eisenhower warned about the military-industrial complex in 1961. We didn’t listen. We made it bigger.
The long-term costs don’t show up in war budgets.
Traumatic brain injuries that don’t heal. Agent Orange. Burn pits. Gulf War Syndrome. Whatever the fuck happened to everyone who deployed to certain areas and now has cancer rates way above baseline.
The VA knows. They fight disability claims anyway because if they can make you give up, that’s money saved.
I’m rated at a certain percentage for service-connected disabilities. Took years to prove. Required documentation I had to fight for. The system is designed to make you quit. Many do. The VA operates on the assumption that if they make it hard enough, enough veterans will give up that they’ll save money overall.
That’s the calculation. Not “how do we take care of the people we sent to war?” It’s “how do we minimize costs while looking like we care?”
Medical treatment that never ends. Medications that barely work. Therapy that can’t fix what combat breaks. The cost of keeping broken veterans alive for 40, 50 years after they come home. Nobody factors that into the war budget. But it’s there. Compounding. Growing. A debt we refuse to acknowledge.
It’d be best for them if we had just died in the third-world shit holes they sent us to.
And then we do it again.
Different country. Different enemy. Same speeches about freedom and democracy and noble causes. Same kids from poor towns with no options. Same defense contractors getting rich. Same politicians voting yes. Same media selling it.
The machine doesn’t stop. It can’t stop. The economy requires it. The power structure depends on it.
And there’s always another threat, another enemy, another reason why we need to send someone’s kid to die in a desert or jungle on the other side of the world.
We killed members of someone’s family. That person’s kid will grow up hating us. In 15 years, we’ll send more kids to fight that kid. And the cycle continues.
Here’s what we need to stop lying about:
War is not noble. War is not righteous. War is not about freedom or democracy or protecting American values.
War is a rich man’s game using poor men to die in the name of greed and power.
The people who start wars don’t fight them.
The people who profit from wars don’t die in them.
The people who die in wars don’t have the options that would have kept them out.
Soldiers are heroes. I believe that. But they’re heroes because the machine demands their sacrifice. They’re heroes because they signed up believing the story and gave everything they had to something that didn’t care about them. They’re heroes because they did impossible things in impossible situations for people who forgot about them the second they came home.
That doesn’t make the wars justified.
That doesn’t make the system right. That doesn’t mean we should keep feeding kids to the meat grinder.
Those faces on the cover? Identical, dehumanized, replaceable. That’s what the machine produces. That’s what the machine needs. Bodies that follow orders and don’t ask who profits when they die.
I was one of those faces. The machine got 12 years of my life. It’s still chewing on what’s left.
They’ll still be sending kids to die long after I’m dead. The machine doesn’t stop just because you see through it.
But at least you can stop lying about what it is.
🕳 RABBIT HOLE: A Decade in Operational Magic
Chaos magic isn’t easily definable. That’s part of the design.
Plenty of people try to pin it down. Plenty are wrong.
It’s not a practice in the traditional sense. It’s more like fuckery with the underlying fabric of the universe in an attempt to change probabilities and redirect the flow of consensus reality to your benefit.
It’s the absence of dogma but the acceptance of belief in a way that makes things real.
The techniques you use, the masks you wear, the rituals you perform—those are just tools to make it happen. The mechanism underneath doesn’t care what symbols you use or which gods you invoke.
It cares about belief. About will. About directing consciousness with enough focus that reality bends.
Sounds like fantasy bullshit, I know. Stick with me.
I was doing most of this instinctively long before I had a name for it.
I’ve manifested things my entire life. Narrowly avoided situations that should have gone badly just by believing I would. I’ve always been very, very lucky.
I’ve always been what I’d call occult-adjacent, even when I didn’t have language for it.
After 12 years in the military, though, dogmatic practices stopped working. You see enough death and pain and the religious frameworks start ringing hollow. Prayer felt like talking to yourself. Church felt like theater.
I needed something that actually moved the needle on reality instead of promising rewards after I was dead.
Then I stumbled on a book by Phil Hine. Condensed Chaos, I think it was called. Hine turned out to be a massive dickbag in reality, but I digress. The book opened a door. From that point, it was about curiosity and exploration.
What if belief itself was the mechanism? What if you could weaponize intention? What if reality was more malleable than we’re told?
I spent a little over a decade finding out.
My main areas of work were sigil magic, memetic magic, shadow work, and creating thoughtforms.
Sigil magic is the most straightforward. You take a desire, condense it into a symbol, charge it through focused intention or altered states, then forget about it.
The forgetting is critical. The conscious mind gets out of the way. The sigil does its work in the background.
Weeks or months later, the thing you wanted manifests in ways that look like coincidence to people who don’t know what they’re looking at.
Memetic magic is similar but works through information and symbols that spread. Ideas as viruses. Concepts that replicate and influence behavior.
You encode intention into memes—not internet jokes, actual thought-viruses—and release them into culture. If they spread, they change things.
Marketing firms do this without calling it magic. Governments do it and call it propaganda. I did it knowing exactly what I was doing.
Shadow work is confronting the parts of yourself you’d rather not acknowledge. The violent impulses. The selfish desires. The darkness you keep locked down because civilization requires it. You can’t manipulate external reality if you can’t control your internal one.
Shadow work is brutal. It’s staring at the worst parts of yourself until they stop having power over you. Or until they eat you alive. Depends on how well you handle it.
Thoughtforms are constructed entities. You build them from focused belief, give them purpose, feed them attention. Some practitioners call them servitors. Some call them egregores. Doesn’t matter. They’re consciousness given form and function.
They do tasks. They protect. They attack.
And if you’re not careful, they develop autonomy you didn’t intend.
I practiced this art 24/7 for over a decade. Rituals. Summonings. Banishments. Even a curse or two when the situation warranted.
I did most of this work solo. Working with other magicians is problematic. They talk about ego death constantly while having the biggest egos you can possibly imagine. They’re insufferable.
My most successful working was sigil magic that resulted in a six-figure position I held for almost six years.
I wasn’t even supposed to get it. The position was filled. Someone else was selected. Then that person suddenly turned it down for no reason anyone could explain. The spot opened back up. I applied. I got it.
That job made me about half a million dollars over six years.
You can call that coincidence. You can say the other person had personal reasons. You can explain it away however makes you comfortable.
I know what I did. I know the sigil I created. I know what happened after.
That’s not the only example. Just the most material. The most quantifiable. The one that’s hardest to dismiss as random chance or positive thinking.
There were others. Situations that resolved impossibly in my favor. People who appeared exactly when I needed them. Information that surfaced at the right moment. Narrow escapes from disasters I should have walked into.
Pattern recognition over enough iterations stops looking like luck.
The price became apparent when I started looking at others in the community.
They were warped. Twisted in ways that would make most people walk the other way.
They sought power over people. Some intentionally drove others to suicide for the energy release. They supported the use of darker rituals involving the blood of children. They would purposely ruin lives if they didn’t like someone.
For fun. For practice. For power.
They were being eaten alive by the things they thought they controlled.
And I could see the writing on the wall.
I could feel the same things happening to me. The hunger for more power. The willingness to cross lines I’d set for myself. The detachment from normal human concern. The slow erosion of boundaries between what I would do and what I wouldn’t.
I skirted the edge of the abyss. Looked in. Watched the suckers fall.
And I stepped away.
I don’t have hard answers about how it works.
But consciousness clearly shapes reality. That’s not mysticism. That’s observation collapsed into fact through enough repetition.
Quantum mechanics points at the same thing from a different angle. The observer effect. Superposition collapsing into reality through measurement. Consciousness as fundamental rather than emergent.
I think there’s a lot more science behind magic than we can understand yet. I think we’re using medieval language to describe quantum-level phenomena. I think ancient practitioners figured out techniques that work without understanding the mechanism, and modern science is slowly catching up with terminology that sounds different but describes the same thing.
But if you’re looking for hard proof, for peer-reviewed studies, for a mechanism you can replicate in a lab—I don’t have that. Nobody does. The method demands measurability. This shit doesn’t measure cleanly.
What I have is results that worked.
Repeatedly.
Undeniably.
Chaos magic showed me that just because the majority of people don’t believe in something doesn’t make it any less real.
Most people live in a beautiful lie they curate around themselves. They don’t engage with the ugly truth because it’s inconvenient and requires critical thinking.
They prefer their binary existences. They seldom acknowledge the gray areas. They try never to stumble into the dark.
That’s fine for them. But it doesn’t make the dark less real.
It doesn’t make magic less functional.
It doesn’t make consensus reality less malleable than it actually is.
Here’s what should terrify you about the fact that magic works:
You’re surrounded by it daily.
Chaos magicians aren’t the only ones who figured this out. Corporations know. Governments know. Everyone in elite positions of power knows this is the way things actually operate.
Marketing is applied memetic magic. Political campaigns are mass ritual. Corporate branding is sigil work at scale. They don’t call it magic because the label makes people dismiss it. But the techniques are identical.
They’re manipulating belief.
They’re directing attention.
They’re using symbols to bypass rational thought and create desired outcomes.
They’re doing chaos magic without admitting that’s what it is.
The only people who can’t see it are the ones holding onto the illusion of control and consensus reality. The ones who need the world to be fixed, measurable, safe.
It’s not.
And people who understand that have been using it against you your entire life.
I walked away from active chaos magic practice.
Or I changed my tactics and kept going with better boundaries. Or maybe I didn’t. Maybe both are true. Maybe the question itself is the wrong framework.
Who knows? Nothing is true. Everything is permitted.
What I do know is this: magic works. That should scare you more than it comforts you.
The universe isn’t fixed. Reality bends. Belief has power.
And the people running the show know exactly how to use that against you. And you never bothered learning how to stop it because it’s not “real.”
To each their own, I guess.
📚 CURRENTLY CONSUMING
Book: One of my favorite books ever is Book of Lies. I’ve read this thing multiple times, but I love it. It covers a lot of ground when it comes to magic and the occult. One of those books that’s been with me since it’s first printing.
Newsletter: I love
’s The Winter Ouroboros. Also a fantastic follow on Notes.Watching: The Sleepy Physicist on YouTube. Quantum Consciousness Theory – How Your Brain Connects to the Universe
🧠 ON MY MIND
I am willing to lose everything I am not, to become the only thing I am.
A LOT of people on the internet really need to commit to a real therapy plan.
So many people are focused on shortcuts to ensure their success out of desperation that they self-sabotage their potential.
❓ THE POLL
Until next week,
~ Joe
P.S.
Please note some links may lead to affiliate offers and if you purchase from these links I may receive a small amount of compensation at no extra cost to you.
I wish all those Halo games and other "Republican Space Ranger" stuff actually described the war economy like this newsletter does. And added chaos magic, too!
Everything about this post goes so spectacularly hard. I love it.
I was engrossed the second I read, "The Machine Elves Knew My Name."