People often ask me what the first step is toward restoring order in a chaotic world, and my answer is always the same — wash your penis. If you can't confront the filth in your own trousers, what business do you have confronting the tyranny of corrupt institutions or the existential weight of Being itself? It's basic hygiene, yes, but it's also symbolic. Jung understood this. Freud too, though he would’ve sexualized the soap. You have to put your house in perfect order before you criticize the world — and that starts with your room, but it doesn’t end there. Have you looked at your laundry pile? That’s not a pile. That’s a shrine to entropy. The ancient lobsters, who’ve maintained dominance hierarchies for hundreds of millions of years, didn’t claw their way up the serotonin ladder with dirty reproductive systems. They established order — tail first. Clean your room, clean your self, and for the love of God, stop projecting your unwashed shame onto society and calling it activism. You’re not oppressed — you’re unhygienic. Wash. Your. Penis.