I don't see it on here, but the latest Tomb Raider games are brilliant. If you have a PS5, High on Life has become a quick obsession of mine. I also highly recommend red dead redemption 2

Muskrat is the poster child of undeserving fame and fortune.

Apartheid baby with daddy's money who has ideas and just throws money at people to make it happen.

But why does Mrs white low key look like red from orange is the new black?

The premise here being that the reeds are softened in the water making it easier to weave the baskets

I'm completely fine with it either way. I have better control over telling magidiots to go take a long walk off a short pier.

I'm sure they do, but they take it to their boss and get told to cut costs by 50%.

Boss gets a bonus, workers get anxiety. Fun time.

So, when the world speaks of unity, of healing, remember the tragedy of Darth Cheeto the Divisive. His story is not just a warning; it is a mirror, reflecting what happens when fear, hatred, and ego are given a platform too large to contain.

/end

A country torn apart, a political system poisoned by distrust, and a populace conditioned to cheer for cruelty as though it were patriotism. Even in exile, his shadow loomed large, his name whispered by those eager to carry his hateful torch.

He called on his most fanatical supporters to rise up, to fight for his return. They did, sowing chaos and destruction, threatening the fragile remnants of democracy he’d already weakened.

But the true tragedy of Darth Cheeto wasn’t just his rise or fall. It was the legacy he left behind:

Allies betrayed him, and his lies grew too big to sustain. Eventually, the people turned against him—or enough of them did. His time in power ended in disgrace, but Darth Cheeto refused to go quietly.

He claimed the system was rigged, that he was the true victim.

Under his reign, hate crimes surged, and the world watched in horror as his policies tore families apart and left entire communities living in fear. Yet even Darth Cheeto’s hubris couldn’t protect him from his own incompetence. Scandals piled up like fast-food wrappers in his gilded office.

His rallies became the stuff of infamy. Thousands gathered to chant his slogans and celebrate his villainy. When he promised walls, bans, and purges, they roared in approval.

The media were branded as enemies, experts were mocked, and dissent was silenced with rage and ridicule. He turned family dinners into battlegrounds, workplaces into warzones, and the nation into a fractured, furious shell of itself.

The media were branded as enemies, experts were mocked, and dissent was silenced with rage and ridicule. He turned family dinners into battlegrounds, workplaces into warzones, and the nation into a fractured, furious shell of itself.

To them, his cruelty was strength, and his dehumanization of others was “speaking the truth.”

Through social media, Darth Cheeto wove a dark web of propaganda. Facts were meaningless; reality was whatever he declared it to be.

Entire religions became enemies of the state. His speeches were riddled with lies, his policies built on hate, but his followers didn’t care. To them, his cruelty was strength, and his dehumanization of others was “speaking the truth.”

But Darth Cheeto had a gift for manipulating fear and resentment, convincing millions that he was the chosen one, destined to save the nation from imaginary threats.

He painted the world in black and white, us versus them. Immigrants were invaders. Minorities were “problems to fix.”

With his trademark orange glow and bombastic flair, he turned attention into power, spinning himself into a cultural phenomenon.

When he stepped into politics, few took him seriously. “A clown,” they said. “A grifter.”

Have you ever heard the tragedy of Darth Cheeto the Divisive? It’s not a tale many dare to tell aloud, though its consequences still haunt us.

Darth Cheeto wasn’t a leader forged through public service or principle. No, he was a reality TV star, a master of branding, a self-styled genius of lies.