Learn To Chode

"Jerking off from home in your pajamas is not a real job, kids, but enjoy it while it lasts because soon there will be no jobs at all."

“Look at all these silly people pretending to work real jobs.”

Unessential Workers

Among the many scams that surfaced during the hoax pandemic—right alongside “trust the science,” Fauci’s sainthood, the polite fiction that western medicine was ever about healing, or that your average nurse or doctor wouldn’t euthanize grandma for a bonus paycheck—was one revelation no one wanted to say out loud: the vast majority of non-specialized, non-trade workers simply don’t do real work.

They click things.
They Slack.
They Zoom.
They “circle back” and “follow up” in emails.
They hold meetings to discuss holding future meetings.

For over a decade, they’ve existed as economic seat-fillers—propping up employment stats just enough to stave off recession, while markets pumped equities and asset and fiat inflation quietly gutted living standards by 20% a year, leaving wages in the dust. Those controlling the levers of power caused just enough pain to avoid a revolution, while feeding just enough credit to keep the masses chained to unsustainable debt until the great financial reset could be engineered via the usual order-ab-chao from the scripted problem-reaction-solution playbook. (You are here.)

Lockdowns exposed this class of unessential workers overnight. Millions of pajama-clad midwits became productivity influencers. TikTok was filled with “day in the life” videos of remote employees making coffee, lighting candles, journaling, brushing their teeth, doing pilates, opening their laptop to pretend to type something important, closing their computer to meditate beneath a Jacaranda tree, and then “taking a few Zoom calls” before happy hour. The highlight of their workdays was flexing from the white sandy beaches of Tulum, doing warrior crescent pose in front of the setting sun for their instashame followers.

The terrifying part? Nobody noticed the difference. Nothing happened to economic output or labor efficiency. These people proved to be nonessential workers, effectively ghosts earning a paycheck as economic units contributing to GDP by doing what all obedient units do in the Empire of conspicuous consumption—purchasing stupid shit they don’t need that will end up on a future episode of storage wars after their bankruptcy.

The system has always rewarded those who never asked important questions and who always played along, especially the millions of now DOGE-targeted fake government workers. Everyone knew it. But the lie was comfortable. Most people were too afraid to shine a spotlight on a machine that still signed their checks. Then the lockdowns turned on the house lights and exposed the stage full of naked, useless actors with fake jobs.

The imposed tyrannies of the hoax pandemic revealed the architecture of global lockstep control. “Essential workers” became the official priest class—hailed, celebrated, and ritualized for protecting the pajama classes from an invisible phantom harm that never existed. The label was a tell at the globalist economic poker table: some were “essential” to keeping the economy going and other humans alive, while vast swaths of labor had no true survival value. Entire departments were dispersed overnight, and the system didn’t blink. Canva projects and DEI Slack threads went dark, yet nothing collapsed. The economy simply absorbed their absence, confirming what most suspected but dared not say—modern work is theater, and most cast members are expendable.

What we discovered is that most white-collar jobs aren’t about production. They’re about compliance and optics—or managerial impression management. The digital “remote” modern worker is part employee, part social media mascot, part snitch. HR is their priesthood. LinkedIn is their confession booth. The function is the preservation of the performance of labor for the perception of “working.” For the corporate entity, it’s all about tolerating just enough fake workers to justify salary expenditures as tax write-offs and to lower marginal group benefits.

“Work from home” was partly an economic psyop. It was about domesticating labor for the fifteen-minute city planned urban slave communities. By removing the commute, the social friction, and the human interaction, the “workers” began to believe that, despite being imprisoned in their overpriced shoebox apartments because of the deadly hoax pandemic, life was getting better. They were being trusted with greater autonomy and freedom, but nothing could be further from the truth. Cogs in pajamas, monitored on their corporate-issued laptops down to every mouse click, are still cogs. They’re just free to forget their laptop cams are still on while they rub one out like CNN’s chief worm correspondent Jeffrey Loobin’ Toobin.

Upper left: Loobin’ Toobin jerking off from home for co-workers.

Gosplan Jobs

Obtaining and keeping a fake job takes almost no effort—just a stamped certificate from an institution of lower indoctrination, the crippling six-figure debt that goes with it, and a CV stuffed with more buzzwords and (self-promotional) horseshit than the stables at Churchill Downs.

Once hired, fake job holders learn the ins and outs of exerting less than the minimum effort to avoid unwanted attention that may lead to their dismissal. They spend their days in corporate or bureaucratic limbo, rehearsing performance metrics for tasks that didn’t exist twenty years ago, pretending to contribute while being paid for obedience, compliance, and silence.

For half a century, this was the average government worker, but in recent decades, it’s now most middle and upper middle class workers, millions of whom are on the chopping block, but not from DOGE, from DOGE’s masters at the technocratic AI-Automation slaughterhouse preparing AI agents and robotic replacements.

A century ago, labor meant labor. People—children included—worked six days a week, often twelve hours a day, in grimy, dangerous factories. The work was taxing, brutal, and real. Then came the “progress” of organized labor to force new laws, unions, and time off for the weekends. A few decades later and the 9-to-5 ritual of paper pushing drudgery beneath flourescent lights birthed the “Office Space” demoralization zone of soul-crushing cubicle zoos filled with Hawaain shirt-wearing morons.

In the later industrial revolution, Marxists warned of alienation, isolation, and exploitation of workers under capitalism—mechanical labor, broken spirits, people estranged from the production processes and their meaning. Then they built something worse. Soviet industry replaced soul-crushing jobs with soul-crushing uniformity and obedience. Instead of exploitation, workers got simulated labor. Office drones in Party buildings filled out quotas no one read, issued memos no one followed, and mouthed slogans no one believed.

In the Soviet Union’s final decades, fake work became policy. Ministries with no output. Workers with no function. Everyone clocked in. No one produced. What mattered was the simulation of performative labor to meet “full employment” party goals. The state cooked the books for the Gosplan, and there was no need to ever worry about labor output, capital returns, GDP, or recessions.

Pretend to work. Pretend to care. Pretend to believe. Pretend that real value was being created by humans who were invested in the farce. Follow the party. Fall in line. Shut up and obey, and the money kept coming in.

Today’s oligarchic-owned corporate class and their serfs do the same dance, just with better lighting and more acronyms. DEI, ESG, TGIF, and silly mantras like corporate accountability and corporate responsibility replaced state and party doctrines. Slack replaced the Party bulletin. Dead eyes now stare at glowing screens instead of typewritten paper with official stamps.

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Government “Work” Sidebar Anecdote…

For three decades, Papa citizen worked for the Department of Energy, often leaving for the office at 4:30 to avoid morning traffic and so he could coach his sons’ soccer teams by 15:00. He eventually learned that slaving away as a middling engineer wasn’t worth the paycheck, as he watched others sleeping in nearby cubicles.

One “engineer” would pretend to work in the mornings, doing a crossword puzzle, then go to lunch at 11:00, then go take a dump at the restroom by the elevators, where he slept for an hour in a stall until checking out at 14:00 even though he arrived at 9, over three hours after my father who was at the same GS government pay scale but, you know, actually working.

After years of watching this grotesque theater of the absurd at taxpayers’ expense, my father learned that none of the engineers of leisure, these useless clowns around him, could be fired, so he upped his game and became a project manager instead. He retired a few years early and went to work in the private sector, where his discipline and work ethic (son of a Naval Vice Admiral) were properly valued, as his salary nearly doubled from his peak government wages.

Despite working in the private sector for years, he mistakenly retired just one quarter shy of $7500 yearly in social security benefits. After paying tens of thousands in taxes into the pyramid scheme of SS for many years, he now receives zero benefits because he’s one point short of the SS benefit requirements on the government matrix. His petitions for a single point exception were denied. (Any Good Citizen entrepreneurs want to hire Papa Citizen for a quarter to work a minimum wage Gosplan Job?)

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Gutting The American Worker

The red hat wearing American public now swallows a fantasy about the American worker all dressed up in red, white, and blue oligcarchic rhetorical horseshit. It’s a sad, allopathic poisoned pill about tariffs, economic nationalism, and the staged resurrection of American manufacturing. The Orange Mashiach with the help of Greater Israel’s handlers, all flanked by lobbyists and corporate shills, push a revival narrative around the tariffs game—factories will soon return, jobs will flow, the forgotten worker with lunch pale and punch card will be resurrected to build things with their hands again for the Made In America glory psyop.

It plays well on television and at red hat rallies.

But the same class of oligarchic parasites that gutted American industry now pose as its saviors. These are technocrats in disguise—venture capitalists and think tank bureaucrats well aware that automation and AI will make any large-scale resurrection of American manufacturing economically obsolete. They are not rebuilding anything, other than the illusion of political difference and trust in the same two-party system that sold out the country decades ago. They are managing impressions, to engineer economic decline, selling resurrection while scripting the planned devaluation of the dollar through inflation, forcing lower interest rates, and therefore cheaper debt. They are repeating the same cycle that has been part of elite looting since the Federal Reserve Act of 1913.

They know the America that once allowed a couple to buy a home, raise a family of five, fund college, and take summer vacations on a single factory wage is gone. They killed it. They sold it to China, India, Malaysia, and Vietnam for private jet flights by their corporate masters and VIP box seats at Super Bowls. And now they sell back the corpse of this working-class America to the people they gutted economically, and simply dress it in nostalgia and campaign merch, peddling dreams they know will never return.

What did the corpse of the American working class look like before it began decomposing before the world?

The heartbeat of the American working class once echoed from steel mills in Pennsylvania, assembly lines in Michigan, and factory towns strung like vertebrae across the Rust Belt. It lived in lunch pails and union halls, in calloused hands, second shifts, and cigarette breaks on graveyard shifts under back door factory security lights.

The sound of labor was the rhythm of a nation that believed in sweat equity and quiet dignity. Those who gutted that America still walk free—never tried, never forced to answer for their treason, never drawn, quartered, or hanged. They sit on corporate boards, sip wine at the Aspen Ideas Festival, and whisper policy into the ears of their oligarch masters, while the kin of the gutted manage quiet despair, buried in debt, drowning in pills, dying slow deaths by OxyContin and fentanyl.

Those towns now lie still. Main streets boarded up. Church bells silenced. Family homes turned into trap houses. The mills collapsed into rust. The factories were auctioned off to the lowest bidder. What remains are fentanyl deaths, unemployment lines, and strip malls full of pawn shops and probation offices. Purdue Pharma (Sackler Family- still billionaires and free) finished the job the politicians and their corporate masters began—massacring the remnants of a class they first hollowed out and then buried in paperwork, unemployment lines, and despair. Today Appalachia rots, and not a single rich man north of Richmond gives a damn because there are no lobbyists for unemployed coal miners.

Manufacturing wasn’t lost by accident, it was gutted in boardrooms and congressional acts written by lobbyists. The architects of globalization (national decline) called it progress, mouthing slogans about efficiency and modernization while handing off industrial power to foreign interests and domestic monopolists. Real jobs were liquidated and Americans were sold the lie that life would be better if they could all fill storage wars’ garages with cheap shit from China.

Both parties signed off on the execution. Bipartisan consensus from the 1990s onward supported trade liberalization, outsourcing, and financial deregulation. Red hat patriots like to blame Democrats, but Republicans were behind all of it 100%, while offering sermons on rugged individualism, secretly shipping the guts of the economy to China, and waving American flags made in China. Together, they polished the guillotine. Globalization was a heist dressed in prosperity-through-financialization drag for the benefit of equity behemoths and hedge funds.

And as towns withered and payrolls shrank, the same traitors made sure the sons of unemployed factory workers who still believed in that dying American dream became expendable chaff for the war machine. They lured them to death or IED paraplegia and later suicide through the promise of service paying for college that their parents could no longer afford. They made endless appropriations for bloodshed abroad, while veterans at home begged in parking lots for change. Afghanistan, Syria, Libya, Iraq, Ukraine—everywhere funded, everywhere armed, everywhere burned to ashes for the Empire’s host parasites in Tel Aviv. The men who once forged steel, assembled cars, and mined coal now overdose in Dollar General parking lots while every Israeli has subsidized healthcare and higher education.

Dying Empires have historically prioritized three things: war, the ruling classes, and looting the coffers on the backs of the people who become disposable.

The great empire of West Israel is now entering the flatline stage. The only “real jobs” are lawyers and doctors who get rich, as the underlings of the oligarch classes tasked with litigating the collapse of diseased and demoralized subjects in preparation for the controlled financial demolition of the currency for their great reset agenda.

“You let the Oligarchs feed you lies while they made you fat, poor, and addicted.”

The Final Sedation

The next phase of betrayal is already underway. Having gutted the industrial economy and tranquilized the workforce with pills, seed oils, processed fake foods, black mirror feeds of defiling pornography, and the flitting digital habits of wasted lives, the same oligarch class now prepares the final sedative delivered in the only manner a traumatized indoctrinated people understand—lies and propaganda dressed up as nationalistic pride.

The PayPal mafia, with Peter Thiel and Elon Musk shaping the new Trump apparatus, backed by Zionist enforcers—Lutnik, Noem, Hegseth—continue to preach liberty while bombing the shit out of poor people abroad for Israel while installing the domestic digital scaffold. An expanded total surveillance police state to lay the ground work for digital IDs (Real ID) tied to health records, Universal Basic Income (no vaccines-no money), student loan payaments, and the last chains for empire slaves—a social credit score linked to a Central Bank Digital Currency (FedCoin) that can be shut off if a slave disobeys, gets ideas about bodily autonomy, or has “wrong” opinions about genocide or their Zionist Occupied Government.

In the order-out-of-chaos stage play of domestic politics, the progeny of those gutted working-class ghost towns believe that “nationalism” has returned in their Orange Savior, and as President of West Israel, he has their best interests at heart. They cannot see that the invasion of illegals over the past four (and fifty) years hasn’t been and won’t be reversed, and the demographic dilution of the nation will continue for the “melting pot” social engineers (don’t look up their early life sections on Wikipravda or you might notice a pattern). This planned invasion has laid the groundwork for future ethnic strife while providing the immediate justification for expanded police state “security measures” in the form of Real ID, passed in 2005, but recently announced as an “urgently needed security measure” by border security cosplay figurine ICE-ICE Barbie: “These IDs keep our country safe.”

Those who would give up essential Liberty, to purchase a little temporary Safety, deserve neither Liberty nor Safety.

— Benjamin Franklin

The National Socialists of the Third Reich built concentration camps, or labor camps, including the most famous—Auschwitz-Birkenau, still adorned with those words that were sold to the world as a cynical and devious mocking of mostly Jewish prisoners—Arbeit Macht Frei—Work Sets You Free. When viewing this motto through the lens of the past century of transformations of human labor, it’s not so cynical at all.

Human labor was once a sacred and meditative undertaking. The relationship between human and tool, worker and craft, earth and harvest was intimate and binding. Tools worn smooth with use were the artifacts for stories of seasons endured, challenges overcome, and skills refined. Pride flowed from creation for survival and prosperity—homes built sturdy, fields tended with purpose, barns raised with help from neighbors in a matter of days. The cities of a dying Europe are littered with magnificent monuments that pay homage to artisans and craftsmen through towering Gothic cathedrals—adorned with carved gargoyles, spires, statues, and stained glass, each a testament to a pride of work unmatched in the centuries since.

What happened to that desire, that dedication to crafting and bringing more beauty into the world? We exist meekly, in a world we tolerate.

Humans stood in fields before dawn, coaxing crops from the fertile, non-aluminous, hearty earth, or shaping timber and stone into homes that would serve as a lifelong shelter to raise children and be passed through generations. Home and heart provided a centered and grounded foundation for what truly mattered—family and togetherness. Today, homes that are not yet claimed by corporate landlords like BlackRock are speculative assets for fodder on HGTV, or part of short-term rental portfolios for the detached passive-income seeking millennials on Airbnb, preventing first-time home buyers from gaining that grounded foundation to start families.

To labor was to build, to build was to leave a mark upon the world—a signature etched in sweat, blood, and muscle memory. Artisans knew the grace of motion, each swing of a hammer or chisel, or draw of a blade performed with the care of a sculptor shaping marble. Work defined life, and left the worker with the satisfaction of having progressed on an undertaking toward a well-made and useful final product that could benefit other humans.

Human labor once bound people to their communities and anchored them in reality through meaning, identity, and shared purpose. That covenant between work and dignity has been systematically dismantled to engineer human redundancy in the service of a cynical, global dehumanization agenda. The same hands that once guided plows or framed houses now swipe screens under sterile LED lights in industrial shoebox apartments, stacked beside H1B visa neighbors imported to suppress wages and dilute social cohesion. Homes once built with intention vanish into investment portfolios or are seized by county bureaucrats at the first whiff of unpaid taxes. Fields rot from chemical aerosol operations. Food is industrialized. Housing is financialized—weaponized against the final breaths of a collapsing middle class.

Work has been transformed from creation to consumption, from dignity to dependency, from mastery of craft to obedience to an engineered chronos of habituated Gosplan workers, many content to slog out a paycheck-to-paycheck existence within a neofeudal technocratic system. The new vision of labor sells easy living, sanitized comfort, and algorithmic relief. But behind the seamless promises waits something colder and emptier.

They sell a frictionless vision for a future emptied of valuable human experiences—struggle, resistance, and meaning. They want AI to handle all thought labor, leaving humans "free" to chase hollow abstractions carefully monitored by algorithmic gatekeepers. Purpose dissipates through attention distractions, dispensed like medicine. Behind sleek promises of progress lurks an older truth—compliance and acceptance measure human value and self-worth—we become what we tolerate.

The future on offer promises sedation disguised as freedom. In the eyes of technocrats, the working and middle classes require repurposing or pacification—all the sheen of Huxley’s Brave New World masking the boot of Orwell’s 1984. UBI masquerades as compassion for the millions of “jobless,” yet serves as a final dog leash—debt-financed subsistence conjured by the Federal Reserve's endless ledger, devoid of genuine prosperity or true autonomy. Dissent will be forbidden, and true liberty will vanish with the first CBDC transaction.

This is one giant global humiliation ritual, to subdue the masses beneath the final boot of tyranny while welcoming it with emoji smiles and lolz as dopamine loops and data-driven comforts replace honest work. Pills, porn, instant meals, and hollow affirmations from devices more interested in harvesting data and recreating artifices through programming, than helping humans maintain their humanity. Computer engineering decay for a digital hospice-prison planet.

Into this managed economic collapse steps the new human, a logged-in organism with a fused human-posthuman biotechnological constitution, a barely sentient half-consenting subject on a cloud-based leash, neither rebel nor worker, merely a user to be used—normalizing powerlessness, adopting algorithmic suggestions as identity, accepting life within the bounds of a touchscreen cage.

A world stripped of meaningful labor is an emptied world, post-apocalyptic—not in the Hollywood sense—but from the quiet erasure of human purpose. In such a world, people will exist only by conditional permission, their lives comfortably confined within invisible fences of digital surveillance and algorithmic obedience.

The clock is ticking. Time and technology are moving billions of humans along quickly, and neither asks for their consent. In the coming years, critical choices will need to be made, while merely “opting out” will not be sufficient.

Either a life reclaimed by meaningful labor, prideful creation, and the quiet dignity of individual liberty reinforced through cooperative efforts of a high-trust community, or a life resigned to passive distraction—a numbing loop of neurobiological sedation.

One path leads to fulfillment and joy, while the other is a one-way ticket to the quiet oblivion of planned human obsolescence.

Choose wisely, before the choice is made for you.

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