6/20/23 - Here's What's Going On

Dearest patrons,

What a wild weekend it has been.

I apologize for not being more in touch. Certain circumstances have prevented me from doing so.

Someone commented on something of mine very confused, asking if I could recap for Patrons what exactly has gone on.

Thursday, June 15th, was really the start of it all. I posted a video called, “How I get my partner to love me more.” My partner’s favorite recreational beverage is Raspberry Lemonade. In order to condition them to love me more, I bought an identical bottle of Raspberry Lemonade, but infused it with pre-workout powder. This unexpected large dose effectively causes them to have an anxiety attack.

I strategically time this so that they drink the pre workout version of the beverage on days when I’m not at home, and the regular version on days when I am. This effectively causes their brain to misidentify the source of the anxiety as my absence.

I posted this video and thought nothing of it. Many people in the comments seemed a bit confused by the post, commenting things like, “This is literally attempted murder,” “Bro your partners gonna die,” and other statements indicative of low intelligence and poor comprehension skills.

Later that night, as I was reveling in the success of this video, my friend Becca alerted me that my good friend Randall Cracker had made an alarming Instagram post, and she was worried about his wellbeing.

We both attempted to contact Randy to no avail that night. Finally, the next morning, I woke up to a text from Randy himself letting me know he was going “on vacation” and would be out of touch for some time.

What a relief. Everything was fine. I quickly forgot about Randall and proceeded with my day.

That morning, my partner complained of being unusually ill. There’s always something wrong with them— but today, they said, it seemed different.

I told them I couldn’t be bothered with this as I had a lot of content to make that day.

Later than morning, I posted a video confessing that I actually hated my partner and was afraid to admit it. This video was of course a joke, but people were getting the wrong impression, so I was forced to remove it. I’ll post this video here in a subsequent post, because I know you all are slightly more intelligent than the rest of my followers at large and you will understand the nuances of what I’m saying.

Later that afternoon, I posted a another video called, “Why my partner is constantly miserable.” For legal reasons, I’ve had to temporarily take down this video as well because it was giving people the wrong idea about events that transpired after the fact, and my lawyer has advised me against speaking publicly about the contents of this video.

It was late afternoon by this point. I received a call from a hospital in the Los Angeles metro area informing me that my partner had been admitted earlier that day.

They refused to provide me any further information about their condition or the circumstance surrounding their admission into the ER, but because I was their emergency contact, I was the number they called.

I began to gather my things and made my third video post of the day informing TikTok, Instagram, and Twitter of my partner’s situation.

Since I hadn’t eaten all day, I decided to make a quick trip to McDonald’s on the way to the hospital. Or, at least, what I thought would be a quick trip. Apparently it was Grimace’s birthday— some purple cretin representative of McDonald’s corporate structure.

I’m not sure exactly how that correlates, but I ended up waiting at McDonald’s for another two hours to get my food. This was absolutely ridiculous to me, especially since I had only ordered two hash browns.

As I waited for my McDonald’s order to be fulfilled, I received a frantic call from Randall’s wife. Randall was nowhere to be found. This didn’t come as a shock to me as he had told me he would be on vacation, but it struck me as odd that he would’ve neglected to tell his wife.

Perhaps they were in the middle of some sort of marital tryst, or Randall was fearing for his life and afraid of his wife for whatever reason. I hung up on Randall’s wife without even saying a word as to protect my dear friend in the event this was the case.

I can’t pretend I did this for entirely altruistic reasons. Part of me also simply did not want to deal with the situation at all, because I had my own problems. The terrorist group known as McDonald’s was holding my order hostage, my partner was in the hospital, and my TikTok’s were performing abysmally— which all compounded my stress.

I started to resent my partner’s hospitalization, because the TikTok I had posted about it was barely even reaching 10,000 views in two hours. This is unheard of for me and would almost surely sabotage my future video performance.

Finally, as if sent from the heavens, one good thing happened. I had ordered a custom printed t-shirt, and it had finally arrived on my doorstep via USPS.

My euphoria soon faded to dread when I remembered I live in a terrible neighborhood, and if I visited my partner in the hospital, I would be giving some lowlife the opportunity to make off with my package.

I figured my best course of action was to run back to my house and pick it up quickly. The McDonald’s was an hour away from my house, and this was at about 5pm, when LA’s rush hour traffic peaks. So the drive back would likely take closer to two hours.

Not only was traffic worse than I anticipated, but it was also a beautiful day. In my attempt to take a “short cut” back to my home, I ended up stuck behind an ice cream truck while disgusting children fattened themselves with the treats. This added another hour to the trip.

Finally, after 3 hours, I arrived back home, and my package was safe. I was admittedly very excited to try on the shirt, so I did a little “fashion show” in my apartment alone.

Of course, the PC police were ready to pounce upon seeing social media evidence of this, accusing me of not caring about my partner. I have noticed whenever I post pictures that make me look exceptionally attractive, people tend to take this as an affront and try to find a way to tear me down to maintain their self esteem.

Once I was bored with my new shirt, I made the hour drive over to the hospital.

Upon arriving, the hospital staff refused to tell me which room my partner was in. Apparently it didn’t matter that I was my partner’s emergency contact— because we had no legal recognition of our relationship, it was “standard policy” not to allow me into the room unless my partner expressly consented to it.

Only problem— my partner was unconscious. I tried to reason with them, but my magnetic charisma and charm ultimately was insulting to them. I can understand this perspective as lowly hospital staff, it can be difficult to be reminded of one’s own insignificance and many people become defensive when confronted by it.

I asked them if I could use “the bathroom,” and proceeded to search the entire hospital for my partner. I opened every door, peering inside quickly to check, and given that the hospital was a ten-building compound, this took almost the entire night.

Sadly around 1am I gave up. It was well past my bedtime, and my partner was unconscious anyway— so I could be on Mars for all they care.

I became more and more annoyed with my partner as the night dragged on. The day was wearing on me. I have to worry about my TikTok career, my Patreon, my budding career in film & television, my missing friend Randall, but I’m supposed to drop everything because my partner has a stomachache?

Before leaving, I asked the hospital staff if they wouldn’t mind relaying the message to my partner whenever they wake up that I wanted to end the relationship. They were already upset with me, so naturally they responded to my polite request with hostility. The lowest of our society always seem to think tearing down those at the top will somehow help them.

I went home and got some much needed sleep. The next morning, I woke up and decided to make a video updating my audience about what transpired the previous night— my ex’s condition, our mutual decision to end the relationship, and the road ahead.

I had endured one of the worst days of my life and capped it off with one of the worst nights. I needed to take care of myself. So that day I made the now much criticized decision to go to the beach.

Again, people do not understand the context and project themselves onto any situation. This makes them think they’re upset with me, when really this is simply a manifestation of their own self hatred.

Let me explain something that I think will help people understand why I chose to do this. I have seasonal depression. I don’t like the cold weather, and I certainly don’t like cloudy weather.

I moved to Los Angeles because my weather-related depression had reached a place where it was inhibiting my ability to function in day-to-day life. Los Angeles has had one of the worst weather years in its history. All winter, it rained pretty much constantly, and was abnormally cold.

One of the reasons California’s weather is so nice is that a polar ocean current runs parallel to the coast from north to south, bringing cold air from the arctic down towards the equator. This is what makes the coast of California so pleasantly temperate. But it also results in some idiosyncratic weather patterns, such as “June Gloom.”

June Gloom is a nickname given to the weather pattern of Southern California that occurs in late spring/early summer when essentially the land is hot but the ocean is cold. This is an over simplification, but I’m trying to make my explanation accessible to those less intelligent than me.

Because of this disparity between surface temperature and ocean temperature, low-lying stratus clouds fill the land basin directly adjacent to the coast. The Los Angeles metro area in particular is sort of a bowl shape, so a characteristic June Gloom day is cloudy in city, yet perfectly clear and sunny inland in the mountains/desert.

It is incredibly frustrating. Imagine how upsetting it is for me to want to go to the beach on a hot day, only to arrive and find it is cloudy JUST along the coast and nowhere else.

This background is crucial for understanding my decision to go to the beach that day. It is exceptionally rare for hot sunny day to occur at the beach in Southern California from late May to late June. If I didn’t seize the opportunity presented to me that Saturday, it might not be an option for another several weeks.

Besides, we were not even dating anymore anyway. There was no expectation of me to have any responsibility to my ex in any way.

During the 45 minute drive to the beach, I received several calls from the hospital, all of which I had to decline because I was driving and didn’t want to be distracted.

It took me another hour after arriving to find a reasonably-priced parking space. Any Angeleno reading this will understand.

Finally, once I was settled, I called back the hospital. They told me that my partner had been moved to the ICU (intensive care unit) and was in critical condition. I reminded them that we were no longer dating, so this was technically my ex. I also asked them to stop calling me, as the constant calls were becoming irritating and I did not need live coverage of the minutiae of my ex’s life.

I wasn’t going to let my ex ruin my day. I could not give them that power. So I enjoyed a lovely morning on the beach. Ultimately it had to be cut shorter than I would’ve hoped because marine layer clouds began to roll in again, but I had a very nice time— despite social media cretins criticizing my every move.

On the way home, I called a friend of mine who happens to be a lawyer because I hadn’t talked to him in a while and I wanted to check in. I tangentially mentioned the situation with my ex simply because that was what was going on in my life at the time and friends talk to each other about their lives.

My friend gave me some friendly advice that it sounded like I needed a vacation. Indeed I had been very stressed, and he picked up on that acutely. He emphasized that because I was stressed I need to leave as soon as possible, as to prevent any further moments of stress from occurring.

He explained to me that sometimes the most relaxing vacation is one that is completely off the grid. They call it a “digital detox.” In order to have the most relaxing time possible, I have to remain unplugged from all devices, not tell anyone where I’m going, and stay completely offline.

So that’s been what I’ve been doing. My ex is none of my business, and I’ve managed to completely forget about them. I’ve enjoyed multiple days of relaxation by the pool, exquisite food, and peace of mind.

Thank you for all your messages of concern this weekend— I assure you I am fine and loving life. I’ve gotten many, MANY calls, all of which I’ve declined. So I apologize if you tried to communicate with me and I did not answer. The nature of a digital detox requires that this be the case.

I will update more if that becomes necessary. I had hoped to record a podcast and more content but my friend advised against that for fear it would disrupt my relaxation. 

Once the dust settles, however, you will know more-- and thank you for your patience.

-Dan