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Images via Suicoke
So, I’m not usually a sandals guy, but these MOTO-M2ABs from SUICOKE (available in Beige and Brown) go harder than a motherfucker. You might not think that a pair of sandals can go harder than a motherfucker, but look at that photo up there: that pair of sandals does absolutely go harder than a motherfucker. Those sandals make me want to develop a popular app, sell my company to Facebook, and retire to an island nation with white sand beaches and a weak national currency. I figure the app will be along the lines of “Uber, but for half-full Crowlers of craft beer” or some shit like that. Call it HLFmpty℠. By 2021 it’ll be valued at 7.5 billion USD and I’ll be doing interviews with Wired and Tech Insider, in which I pretend to be a normal person, who is not a weird multi-millionaire, by dropping awkward references to whatever meme was dankest about six weeks prior. After I’ve divested myself of my shares in the company and completed my transition to super-rich island-dwelling recluse, I’ll trade in my black turtleneck and Common Projects for and an Aloha robe and a pair of sandals; sandals that, as I might’ve mentioned earlier, go harder than a motherfucker. I’ll quit all social media, except for Instagram, which I will use exclusively for posting photos of my sandaled feet, captioned simply #vibing. Eventually I’ll allow a film crew from Vice to follow me around my beachside villa as I wax philosophical about the simplicity of island life, the ills of late stage capitalism, and the benefits of living impulsively, all while taking rips from a bottle of overproof pot still rum. At some point, I’ll pass out in a hammock, permanently interrupting a disjointed rant about the state of the modern tech industry, and my loyal, but impatient housekeeper will usher the crew to the guest house, begging them to leave me to my drunken sleep. Once the video is released, I’ll complain loudly to my staff and passing iguanas that many of my statements were taken out of context. They can do anything with editing, you know. Reading the Youtube comments section will send me spiraling into self-loathing depression and self-destructive alcoholism. Soon after, I’ll develop a sudden and severe addiction to a rare Chinese research chemical; an addiction I’ll document in a series of drug-fueled vlogs, in which I rage against Vice, Silicon Valley (the place and the show), and agents of the globalist shadow government, prompting Alex Jones to refer to me as “a very smart man” on an episode of InfoWars. Days later, my loyal, but impatient housekeeper will discover my dead body in my hammock, rocking back and forth in the gentle sea breeze. A Salon writer will pen a surprisingly nuanced essay about my life, unimaginatively titled “Glass Half Empty: The Life and Death of the Tech World’s Oddest Man Out”. I’ll become a cautionary tale for app developers and digital entrepreneurs, my name only mentioned in tense Palo Alto meetings and verbose underground rap verses. Remember me however you want. I don’t care about my legacy. Just make sure to bury me with my sandals on. They go harder than a motherfucker -RB
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