2024 Has Been Assassinated

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I recorded this one for you, my loves. Click the player if you’d like to listen to me read you an unhinged bedtime story.

This week’s episode is brought to you by my last remaining brain cell.

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Hi friends!

The first twelve days of December have been the longest year of my life, but here we are. Vigilante vibes are everywhere and soul-murdering discourse abounds. I am no longer holding space for 2024 and its demonic ass energy. The year is officially over, because I assassinated it. That’s what hot people are up to these days: Assassinating. I am glad to be of service.

Let’s all now enter a liminal space of yearless bliss until the clock strikes midnight on January 1st. If you need to Grinch out, go on and do it somewhere else. If you need to crash out, that makes total sense and you have my support.

While I took my sweet time to write this, because 2024 was very prolific for me and I would rather now stare at the wall than be publicly clever, you may have heard about Oxford naming “brain rot” as the word of the year. No shit. My brain is a slice of Swiss cheese; how’s yours doing? I think I’ll add “fill in brain holes” to my resolutions list since being an insatiable content goblin is ultimately a choice, and free will is going to be huge in 2025.

FYI: The Burn It All Down editorial board has picked “shut the fuck up” for word of the year, because hearing about one more thing going on in this world of ours and then trying to make sense of it might actually be what kills me.

when you try and tell me one more thing.

Before I slink back into the yearless abyss — where new information can’t reach my soon-to-be immaculate and hole-free brain — we do have a lot to discuss. I don’t think “crippled by impending doom” is a good look for any of us, so I won’t get into the World War III of it all or how global collapse has taken on a new, revolutionary attitude. Let’s just start with the fact that TikTok won’t stop serving me Luigi Mangione fan edits. I think it’s because, despite the fact that my spirit is having an anaphylactic reaction to this entire situation, I keep watching them.

Let me be very clear here, the anaphylaxis is not from the murder of the CEO or the ensuing collective horniness.

America’s healthcare system is immoral. It bankrupts over half a million people every year. A surgery can ruin you financially even if you have insurance. Or you can just straight up be denied treatment and die. It’s extremely twisted and for profit in a way that the Canadian mind will never fully comprehend. Everyone is dancing on an insurance company CEO’s grave because this is a system that needs dismantling and shots have literally been fired.

I also know how much security cam rizz this killer has. And how luscious his digital footprint is (those abs, that Goodreads). I’ve seen the full collection of hot mugshots and it begs the question: Why is Pennsylvania law enforcement this man’s Instagram husband?

What’s actually causing my spiritual hives, though, is that this entire situation reads like a viral marketing stunt. Luigi dropped so many easter eggs, he is basically the Taylor Swift of murder. The shell casing poetry. The backpack full of Monopoly money. The arrest happening in Altoona, PA, a key location in Monopoly lore that’s connected to the original anti-capitalist version of the board game. This was murder with a social rollout and I fear it won’t be the last. I don’t want to live through a “Black Mirror meets Love Island” American Revolution 2.0 where a group of libertarian hotties gun down CEOs while the internet forms intense parasocial relationships with them, but I think that might be what’s happening.

Parasocial relationships are wild because they’re based on content consumption and fantasy. We already know that social media has no space for moral complexity and fandom behavior is out of control, so it makes sense that this man would be lionized. He’s a relatable assassin. His story feels accessible. He’s not even the radical leftist my FYP wanted him to be or the other obvious option, a rightwing incel. He’s a smart, charismatic, bisexual tech bro with back pain who 3D printed a gun and wrote a manifesto catered to the modern attention span. For the record: I, too, had life-ruining back pain a few years ago. In my case, it radicalized me towards Pilates.

me if I was a gun.

I have been recording the annals of Unhingement since April of 2023 and I know how we got here, my parasocial comrades. The pandemic made wealth inequality and the absurdity of the healthcare system hard to ignore and moved culture so deeply online that we have yet to find our way back to reality. Our online world has bolstered real political movements since then, but it has also seen the rise of what I call Karma culture, which I first wrote about last year when the social media conversation around a muddy Burning Man sent me into the stratosphere.

In the grand tradition of nothing bringing people together like a common enemy, we are finding community in the fated misfortune of others.

Karma culture is a natural evolution of cancel culture, a cosmic twist for the masses already primed to get their digital pitchforks out and huddle together for retribution. After our pandemic years, and all the collective grief, fear, and magnified inequality, there is perhaps no more comforting thought than everything coming back around to bend in the favor of karmic justice.

Here Comes Karma Culture

There was also the submersible to prime us, with its delicious combination of billionaire hubris and Titanic mishegas. That week served up some of the greatest cackles the internet has ever seen. The vibe of that pile on was better, since those men (RIP) willingly got into a tin can headed to the bottom of the ocean, a lighter shade of darkness than gun violence and searching “X” for a murderer’s nudes.

One thing I know for sure is that the weirder shit gets, the quicker it alchemizes into cackle-worthy gold. And now that we’ve sunk so low — and imploded our collective boundaries around the impropriety of it all — there are only new depths for us to explore together.

The Rise of the Cacklers

And, of course, we can’t leave out the naughty orcas of Gibraltar and how we painted them as radicals targeting the wealthy when they are actually just fashionable, whimsical creatures who like participating in trends and wearing hats. They’re so me and I will root for them always.

Is wrecking yachts just their version of doing a little TikTok dance? Hmm … there’s no fun in that, so like the rest of the internet, I am choosing to see them as a charismatic species that has had enough of our bullshit and is hatching a worldwide plot to enact vengeance and dominate us with their effortlessly chic aesthetic and potentially superior intelligence.

Orcas vs Aliens

So, for anyone clutching their pearls, wondering how we got here, the Unhingement does not happen in a vacuum, my guy. I am a specialist and this is my beat, so you can trust me.

At least the aliens are hovering over New Jersey now. Or maybe it’s the US government trying something new? Those are the only two options since they’re not shooting that shit down. I’m going with aliens because it’s more fun, and I’m hoping my alien husband will beam me up this holiday season — that would be a fun twist!

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A post shared by @couriernewsroom

All this to deal with and somehow Donald Trump still exists. Sorry to say, but I kind of love him bullying Justin Trudeau like a teenage girl even though Canada’s top nepo baby had to go all the way to Mar-a-Lago to meet with him since convicted felons can’t cross the border. What I really want to know is, do I still have to renew my work visa if Trump’s about to acquire my homeland?

And, goddess bless, we didn’t even get to the impending TikTok ban. That has actually been at the center of my vision board for a couple of months after I decided I would like to procrastinate promoting myself indefinitely. Are my powers that immense? How terrifying.

Anyways, we’re all cooked, so don’t forget to treat yourself with love and compassion, my beautiful readers. It’s the least you can do.

I’ll be back soon, from right here in sunny Los Angeles, California, with a very special look ahead for 2025. Until then!

Less Lessons More Blessin’s™️

Liz