Every time humanity reaches a summit—peak whatever—the next absurdity quietly germinates in the shadow of the last. You won’t always notice it, but somewhere in the shade of yesterday’s hysteria, the sprouts of tomorrow are elbowing each other for the attention of activists and elites alike.
Right now, we’ve witnessed the climax of feigned virtue. Climate alarmism, wokeness, globalism, and the latest moral panics have either peaked or are trudging back to the obscurity they came from. The descent will not be gentle.
We fear oxygenated carbon. We rely on hydrogenated carbon. The elements themselves are now our adversaries. Once, we studied them with wonder, hungry for secrets that might propel the world forward.
This is a critique of your collective terrors—a lantern cast into the darkness that alarmism has woven around us. Expect cynicism. Expect sarcasm. Expect a brick or two lobbed from the sidelines, just for good measure.
We like to imagine ourselves as a spacefaring species, destined to scatter across the stars. In reality, we are fragile Earth-creatures clinging to a narrow biological niche. Mars is not a frontier; it is an exquisitely hostile corpse. The dream of planetary settlement is not bold—it is naïve.
Reality no longer arrives through experience but through mediation. We inherit truths we cannot verify, trust fragments we barely understand, and call interpretation knowledge. From climate graphs to medical dogma, we mistake confidence for accuracy. The world feels real not because it is, but because our minds insist it must be.