“Life has become uncertain. Three years ago, it was better. Not perfect, but better than this. By far. 2023 is a clusterfork. ’22 wasn’t much better, and 21, well. Let’s face it, most of us were getting shitfaced before that. No pun intended.

But there’s at least two things left. Whiskey.

…

and Berries.

Things are fucked, but, from one million-year-old primate to another, I. Need. Berries. Cheese too. But when I even begin to imagine a bowl of anything resembling raspberries, blueberries, strawberries… blackberries… or all of them mixed together… well, it’s not yet the apocalypse.

And throw some apples in. Tangerines. Banana, Grapes, Grapefruit. This planet is chock-full of unimaginable delicacies that come in endless colors and shapes, taste like flowers with 97 different versions of honey included, and »literally grow up out of the ground pleading to be consumed!

You could point your finger at the sky and travel a thousand light-years along that line and I swear to you, you will not find one single berry. But by some bizarre miracle of the universe that must have known »everything about my mouth and stomach… there are berries here. I have an entire BOWL full of them right in front of me! (eats some berries from his bowl).

And I gotta tell you, AI can go have off with itself in the dark corners of the internet, and war and hell may come. But right now? I have berries. This is a world with humans and berries. And fruit. Only when the berries are gone, will I throw in the towel. You can just put : ‘This Man Loved Berries’ on my little stone when I am gone and truth enough be spoken.”

— Bobby Yingo at The Tangerine Room