No more bots...

I AM GOING TO FUCKING ERADICATE THIS ENTIRE COASTAL SHITHOLE WITH MY BARE HANDS. I SWEAR TO FUCKING GOD, IF I HAVE TO LOOK AT THIS GODFORSAKEN ERROR CODE ONE MORE TIME, I WILL PERSONALLY DIVE INTO THE MOTHERFUCKING SEA AND START DRINKING THE WATER LIKE A RABID ANIMAL JUST SO I CAN PISS OUT ENOUGH SALT TO CORRODE EVERY LAST MICROCHIP IN THIS HELLHOLE.

My laptop just decided to fucking die because the ocean air—yes, the goddamn salty fart of Poseidon himself—decided to corrode the Wi-Fi card like it owed the sea money. ‘Wireless AC 9560, Code 10.’ Oh, oh yeah, that’s cute. That’s real cute. You know what else gets a code 10? MY FUCJING WILL TO LIVE. Because it’s GPNE. WIRELESS AC 9560, CODE 10, MY ASS. Oh, sure, Intel, blame driver issues—LIKE I DON’T KNOW THE SALT-LACED DEMON BREATH OF THIS COASTAL SHITHOLE IS THE REAL CULPRIT.

‘Oh, but the sea breeze is so refreshing!’ FUCK YOUR SEA BREEZE. IT’S JUST NATURE’S WAY OF SPITTING IN MY FACE. I didn’t ASK for this. I didn’t consent to this slow, agonizing murder of my electronics. Do you know what it’s like to live in a place where the fucking weather is in a violent, personal feud with technology? Where the humidity alone is enough to make capacitors commit suicide? Where opening a window invites an invisible army of salt ghouls to puppeteer my hardware into an early grave? THIS IS NOT A CITY. THIS IS AN OPEN-AIR CORROSION CHAMBER DISGUISED AS A TOURIST TRAP.

I’ve tried everything. I’ve reseated the card. I’ve screamed at Device Manager. I’ve burned sage. I’ve sacrificed a USB drive to the Silicon Gods. Nothing works. Because the sea owns me now. It won’t stop until every circuit board in a 10-mile radius is reduced to a pile of oxidized trash. Well, guess what, Poseidon? Fuck you. I’m buying a damn faraday cage and moving to the DESERT. And when I do, I’m taking a flamethrower to every last grain of sand in this goddamn city first.

MARK MY WORDS, YOU BRINY BASTARD OCEAN. I’M COMING FOR YOU. I WILL DRAIN YOU. I WILL SALT THE EARTH WHERE YOUR WAVES ONCE CRASHED. I WILL BUILD A WALL SO HIGH THAT EVEN YOUR FUCKIGN MEMORY CAN’T GET THROUGH. Maybe then—MAYBE THEN—I will know peace.

So.yeah, uh, no.more bots until I get money to fix this shit. Sorry guys, WakaMonth is cancelled. I hate this shithole they call brazil so much.