Feb 20 • 💬 General discussion
The Jungle Rules
I witnessed a brutal red pill moment today. Stepped into the elevator at the office with this landwhale, easily pushing 100 kilograms, taking up half the damn space.
One of the VPs rolls in—a chunky mid-40s dude, but he’s got that alpha posture and owns it. She tries some small talk, probably fishing for validation, and he gives her a quick head nod like “yeah, whatever.”
She starts yammering about her weekend plans—nobody asked—when the doors slide open.
In walks this slim, tight 23 year-old chick, probably a 7 or 8.
Mid-sentence, VP spins on a dime, lights up like a horny teenager, and hits her with a “Hey, how’s your week going?” Full-on charm mode, grinning ear-to-ear, practically wagging his tail.
The fattie wasinstantly shutdown. Face drops, story dies mid-breath, and she’s staring at her sausage feet crammed into shoes two sizes too small. You could see the hamster wheel spinning—humiliation sinking in hard.
I got where she was at, but sympathy? Nah, man. She’s old enough to know the game.
You wanna play at a higher level? Drop the blubber and stop being a walking punchline.
Losers get smacked with it 24/7—little cuts, big wounds, every damn second. Most of us don’t even clock it, too busy grinding our own shit. But they feel it, brothers. Every sideways glance, every interrupted convo, it’s the world screaming “you’re nothing” right in their face. VP didn’t even know he was shivving her—he’s just following the script.
The jungle rules. No mercy, no opt-out.
Lift, eat clean, and stay sharp, or get left behind with the rest of the human wreckage.
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The Jungle Rules
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