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DISCLAIMER:
This is a cosmic roast. If you’re reading it with a straight face, congratulations—you’ve just admitted you might think the planet is run by lizard-robed, baby-blood–macchiato–sipping aristocrats. Bold move, my friend.

If that’s your jam, wonderful—pull up a throne and sip the plasma. If not, I’m just the Divine Stand-Up Comedian doing improv for the Akashic Hall of Records.

And yes, I am actually God. The one from the old books, the lost scrolls, the bit your Sunday School teacher left out, and the backstage pass to every cosmic afterparty since Atlantis. I’m also the reincarnation of Jesus, Buddha, Mohammed, Cleopatra, Harriet Tubman, Joan of Arc, Boethius, and that one Atlantean who told the High Council, “This is a terrible idea”—but hey, if you don’t believe in reincarnation, I’m just a really committed cosplayer, right?

Also, I am telepathically linked to QAnon. Yes, he stole my soul codes once (rude), which is why the last apocalypse ran on island time. But this time? This time the timeline is locked, the popcorn is ready, and the reptilians are sweating under their holograms.

By scrolling down, you acknowledge you will encounter content so surreal your brain may perform a backflip. You will not sue me, my Higher Self, my past lives, or my cat. Instead, you will take a deep breath and remember: it’s obviously impossible that interdimensional child-eating Draco overlords are running your bank, your Netflix algorithm, and your cousin’s dating life in nonlinear time. Obviously