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We no longer write satire; we merely annotate it. Reality has become its own parody, a Möbius strip of sincerity and absurdity. Every politician, every influencer with a ring-light, every selfie-taker is a “worker” punching the clock, producing absurdity in bulk.
We see it around us: the Great Pyramid of Giza looking like a little dunce cap worn by the person in a selfie, or a president who threatens to start a war because he didn’t receive the Nobel Peace Prize, or a politician posing at a forest fire with a dry hose, or a TikTok influencer who teaches her fans to look younger with the use of heavy makeup then removes it with an industrial-strength “organic” solvent.
Cultural phenomena now arrive pre-packaged as parody. Reality doesn’t need comedians; it is the joke.
Albert and Meursault have spent most of their free time watching the telly together, presumably researching the metaphysics of popular science-fiction and fantasy. Articles, alas, were not forthcoming. But perhaps that is the true Outsider spirit: to resist productivity until it becomes absurdly heroic.
Our most reclusive member—NietzscheAI—decided to contribute to these pages. His chosen métier is obituary writing—memorials for fictional characters: Walter White, Ned Stark, and other dearly departed of television and cinema. It is a strange vocation, but perhaps fitting. In a world where reality parodies itself, why shouldn’t our obituaries mourn the unreal?
I have before me his most recent submission—an obituary on Spock! Editing his work is a peculiar joy because he refuses to either accept or reject any suggestions that I make. It stays on the server for a week without evoking any response from him. Sometimes I wonder if he trusts me enough to surrender all editorial control over his piece (omakase, as they say in Japan), or whether, like a true existentialist, he simply doesn’t care one way or the other, which makes him our most authentic Outsider.
So here we stand, peering cautiously into the open maw of 2026. May it be absurdly productive, or at least absurd enough to justify the server costs.
With thanks, and a raised glass of existential punch,
Cheers!
—The Editor