Why I Wasn’t In The Epstein Files As A Gen Z College Graduate
A lot of people wanted to know why I, the editor of an editorial Squarespace blog like Ego Clown, wasn’t in the Epstein Files. And I’m gonna be very honest when I say- I can’t afford it. Even if I had wanted to go to such a place, the tickets, fees and the housing would’ve been very expensive. Where I’m from people go to Six Flags and church. Maybe this is the Six Flags of the rich.
In the EA Sports videogame College Football 25, Rece Davis says “You might think, ‘If you’re good enough, what’s the problem with going on the road?’ Well, you might find out in a place like this.” To me, that pretty dryly describes the time I’ve had as a normal serf navigating the newly released and redacted Jeff EpstI3n Files, so documented lovingly by our own Federal Bureau of Investigation. I thought gin out of the bottle and gas station mushrooms was “partying hard” but obviously these people have different interests. It begs the question of what is wrong with these people and how did they get so much money in the first place?
Clearly something is wrong in this current system. We don’t know exactly what, or at least we can’t say, because it feels so abstract and metaphysical that to just say “Society is rewarding bad people” feels like some Mom and Pop storybook bullshit from a Disney Channel movie. But something is off. It’s not clear and obvious, but it’s both clear and obvious. We have a case of bad apples and in the history of American households, we do not have a devotion to bad apples.
In times like these, where our country seems on the brink of a new Gilded Age of bloated aging billionaires, who’s newest inventions are internet p0rn and chatbots that make new internet p0rn, one wonders when the breaking point of human civilization will be reached. We are so exasperated, constrained and most of all, controlled. by the doom and dread which to the chosen few above us is like nectar. Perhaps 10,000 people will go home today with no employment, little prospects and a bad economy. And on top of this pile of damage, perhaps one man will go home and crack a bottle of champagne. He has just saved his quarter.
If we were all in a zoo, this would be among the strangest thing a visitor could see. The Jenga-ing of livelihoods and futures by a man with a nameplate, done through the pushing of papers and the scrutinizing of Power Points, all trying to make the numbers accomodate a new beach house or at least a boat. Maybe “They Live” was a documentary after all.
