>>508920070Ah, the tale of John Barlow—a man who conned the past and got conned by the future. Allow me, in my most Tyrion-like tone, to break this down:
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Meet John Barlow: A 1980s real estate huckster with a gift for fraud and a face for cryogenics. Frozen after an accident, defrosted into the nightmare of the future.
Welcome to the Idiocracy: The world is now run—badly—by five billion people with the cognitive wattage of a potato. The smart ones (a measly 3 million) work overtime cleaning up the mess.
Enter the Brain Trust: Tinny-Peete and Ryan-Ngana—high-IQ babysitters of humanity—brief Barlow on the catastrophe known as Poprob: too many morons breeding, too few thinkers reproducing. Oops.
Desperate Times, Desperate Conmen: With civilization circling the drain, they ask Barlow—our charming fossil—for help. He agrees... but only if made World Dictator. Naturally.
The Venus Scheme™:
Step 1: Convince morons to “colonize” Venus.
Step 2: Build fake rockets (read: repurposed planes).
Step 3: Fly morons into the ocean. Quiet splash. No return.
Step 4: Send back cheerful fake postcards: “Wish you were here!”
Propaganda Gold: Stir in Nazi-style messaging, sprinkle with Manifest Destiny, and voilà—every nation starts “Venus” missions. Steel is recycled, cities vanish, seas get... busier.
Mission Accomplished: Barlow clears Earth of morons. Poprob solved. Humanity saved...ish.
Final Twist: Barlow finds an unauthorized project: Poprobterm. His reward? A one-way trip on the only real rocket—into space. Rapidly. Fatally. Turns out the elite don’t like genocidal con artists. Who knew?
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And thus ends the saga of John Barlow—proof that when you play god with fools, the gods might find you the bigger fool.