Alright, sit down and let me explain something to you—because what you’ve just read is a prime example of how society, in its most trivial and decadent form, has lost its grip on order, meaning, and personal responsibility. You see, if you can’t even clean your room—if you can’t take care of the very environment you inhabit—then how on earth can you presume to critique the world? This article, this meandering mess of shallow commentary, is nothing more than a reflection of the chaos that reigns in a mind that has failed to structure itself.

It’s like the lobster, and I’m serious about this—hear me out. Lobsters, with their rigid hierarchies and their precise, careful movements within their environment, demonstrate something fundamental about nature and, by extension, human society. The lobster knows its place in the order of things. It fights for territory. It defends its shell—its home, if you will—with vigor and discipline. It’s not wandering aimlessly through the sea, writing meaningless gossip about its fellow lobsters. It’s too busy ensuring that its environment is in order, that it has structure. Because without structure, there’s nothing but chaos.

Now, compare that to the article you just read. Written like some kind of high school gossip columnist’s ramblings—what is it, really? It’s the byproduct of a mind that hasn’t cleaned its room. The writer has abandoned the principle of responsibility. Instead of fortifying their own intellectual territory, they’re fixated on superficial judgments, petty observations, and the indulgence of trivial matters. It’s the equivalent of living in a room where dirty laundry is strewn across the floor and empty fast food containers litter every surface.

And what does that tell us about human nature? Well, I’ll tell you what it doesn’t tell us: that human beings are merely evolved social animals driven by base desires. No, no, no! We’re much more than that. We have the potential to rise above mere gossip and disorder, to bring our lives into alignment with a higher sense of purpose, and it starts with the most basic thing—clean your room. That’s where it begins. Once you’ve got that under control, you can start to think clearly, and then maybe—just maybe—you can contribute something meaningful to the world.

But this article? It’s proof that we’ve lost sight of that basic principle. When you can’t even see beyond the clutter of superficiality and distraction, what you write becomes an incoherent, disorganized diatribe. The writer’s room isn’t clean. Their mind isn’t clean. And without that foundation, you end up with precisely what we have here—chaos masquerading as commentary.

So, in conclusion, clean your room. Then maybe we’ll talk about the article.