text: First of all, I'm writing this note from Hell. The newly added circle of Hell designed for blog boys and clickety clackers. We do have Wi-Fi. I'm not quite sure what my punishment is supposed to be down here. At this moment, I'm outside a coffee shop with a protein infused wild berry smoothie. I'd say it's 75 degrees. Hold on I just pulled up the weather. It's 73 degrees. Hell is kinda tight but that's not what I'm here to warn you about. Ok everybody, quit idolizing Jeff Bezos. He's a straw man in a gold hat. I know that multi-billionaires are the nicest people on Earth, but the exception is Jeff. I know for a fact that the super rich are charitable. Their dicks only go upwards, just like their bank accounts. But know this, the dick of Jeff Bezos is not to be trusted. Ever heard of Amazon dot com? Shop at your own peril. Pay Pal is no pal of mine I'll fucking tell you that right now. Let me fill you in on a little secret; every time you make a purchase on Amazon dot com, you're entered into the Bezos lottery. And that's a jackpot even the saddest farty casino grandma would hate to win. And guess who shopped exclusively on Amazon dot com? It was me, Ok? I was the unlucky candidate to be visited personally by the scarecrow Jeff Bezos. It's been three weeks since I died. At least I think about so. It's easy to lose the concept of time when your days are eternal. And also when you're rolling up the Devil's own Lettuce into a joint the size of an extra value tube of Colgate and smoking that shit with your new long boarding friends. I shouldn't even say when I "died" though. I was murdered. Murdered so good to the point where no physical evidence could be found. I was in my top floor apartment when Bezos killed my ass. I was streaming Fortnite for all my fans when I heard a ruckus and a hullabaloo. Was I get getting swatted? No, it was coming from the ceiling. The sound kept getting louder and louder. My fans were donating suddenly, their comments saying things like, "Your ded now, boy." and "the reckoning draws near" and "Bezos incoming." It was a setup. These weren't my regular Twitch fans. They were all in on it, mocking me before my untimely death. I had hit the dreaded jackpot. The next thing I knew, Jeff Bezos had just cut a massive circular hole into my ceiling with an industrial saw. His bald head gleaming white, it felt as if I was struck with a flash bang. Jeff Bezos repelled half way down, then dropped and did a cannon ball tuck, smashing into my computer desk. He ruined my game of Fortnite, and PC. Jeff Bezos is the ultimate stream sniper. I was taken aback as fuck. I asked him what he wanted. With a business casual attitude he said "I'll be taking all the cells from your body, if that's fine with you." It wasn't. When my flight response kicked in, I forgot how much of a slob I was. I literally slipped on several banana peels attempting to escape out my front door. Bezos lumbering methodically behind, adjusting his tie clip, I started to cry. "Please, Jeff, No! I thought you were one of the good guys!" Jeff picked up my trash can and dumped half eaten Hungry Mans all over me. "Messy messy messy." Jeff snickered and extended his arms out toward me. An aura of power and wealth seemed to flow from his expensive duds, soon manifesting into a stream of bright green ones and zeros. I could feel my brain turning to mush. I was shut off from my human form, and my consciousness floated above my now deceased body. I watched in horror as Jeff Bezos ripped my corpse apart, cell by cell. Now that I was dead, I understood the true nature of all things. There are an average of 32.7 trillion cells in a grown adult, and Jeff was meticulously turning each part of me into Bitcoin. Turns out, the crypto currency isn't something that can be generated at will on the internet. Bitcoin is humans. Bitcoin could have been your dad who you thought up and left your family. Sure, maybe he had a drinking problem, but he also had a Bezos problem. As my anatomy dissolved into cyberspace, I felt nothing but rage. Jeff Bezos looked up in my general direction, like he could feel my presence. He winked, fully took off his shoes and pants and underwear, then shit on my floor. Damn you, Jeff Bezos, you're lucky Hell is way chiller than my life ever was. I beg of you, don't use Amazon dot com, or anything that billionaire monster has ever had a hand in. He's an immaculately dressed warlock who's looking for his next victim. I think he's grown accustomed to the taste of complete and untraceable murder. Even if Bitcoin tanks, and crypto currency is a thing of the past, Jeff Bezos may still be coming for you.