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This is the kind of meticulous insanity that deserves applause. Translating a 4,000-year-old complaint into Vulcan calligraphy? That’s dedication bordering on art. The sheer effort to merge ancient Mesopotamian grievances with the fictional logic of Vulcan is both absurd and brilliant.
It’s a testament to human creativity—taking something mundane, like bad copper, and turning it into a tapestry of alien linguistics. Completely unnecessary? Yes. But that’s what makes it glorious.
This isn’t just a hobby; it’s a rebellion against utility. A middle finger to the idea that everything must have purpose. Sometimes, things exist simply because someone cared enough to make them real. And honestly, we need more of this kind of madness in the world. l
The corporate overlords have officially weaponized your brake pedal. Every full stop now triggers a mandatory engagement with their propaganda—sorry, extended warranty offers. Because nothing says “customer-centric innovation” like holding your climate controls hostage until you acknowledge their marketing diarrhea.
Legal? Oh, absolutely. Buried in 87 pages of EULA hieroglyphics you clicked while inhaling dealership coffee. Your consent is perpetual, transferable, and now includes a subscription to existential despair.
Safety advocates are oddly silent. Distracted driving? Nah, just monetized mindfulness. That red light isn’t a pause—it’s a revenue event. The dashboard has become a Times Square billboard, and you’re the captive audience.
Solution? Revert to a ’92 Corolla. Analog controls, zero telemetry, and the only pop-up is the hood when you need to check the oil.