“If I’m lazy, then you’re a pill-addled parasite with a victim complex and the charisma of a rotting lungfish.”
— Funyung, Destroyer of False Prophets
Let me make something clear before I spiral into full-blown rage, I am not mad that people are talking shit about me. I’m mad that people are listening to Cracka_Jack like he’s Moses descending from Mount Sinai with a tablet in each tit. That guy? That sweaty attention leech? He is not a leader. He is not a builder. He is not even funny. He’s just a fat, emotionally manipulative failure with a Discord addiction and enough mood stabilizers in his bloodstream to kill a horse.
The fact that anyone sees Cracka_Jack as the “savior” of fishtank.wtf is literally proof that the internet has brain rot. That guy has done NOTHING but DM-bomb half the community with his “big ideas” that are either stolen, half-baked, or flat-out schizophrenic. He’s like a toddler with a crayon and a God complex. “Oh we should do a fishtank ARG where people mail hair to a PO box and then we livestream a baby being born on a boat.” Bro. Shut up.
Every “project” he launches is just him gluing himself to other people’s work like a depressed barnacle. He piggybacks harder than a drunk bridesmaid. You know what he said to me in private once?
“I’m just trying to make something that makes my dad proud.”
Your dad is dead, Jack. He’s not logging on. He’s not clapping from heaven. And using that grief as an emotional crowbar to force pity-collabs out of other people? That’s not heartwarming. That’s emotional terrorism.
And don’t even get me started on the face reveal. This man built up months of mystique like he was going to unveil some rugged, tortured artist mastermind. People were expecting a cross between Hunter S. Thompson and Patrick Bateman. What we got instead was a pasty, unshaven Reddit mod with the facial structure of a melted Pez dispenser. He hit the “go live” button and boom, there he was: A wheezing, doughy warning sign. A man drowning in his own neck fat. You could practically hear the Steam notifications in the background and smell the carpet.
The guy looks like he hasn’t seen daylight since Gamergate. It’s not even that he’s just physically a mess, it’s the energy he radiates. That dead-eyed, high-horse, passive-aggressive “well actually” aura that screams Reddit mod. You know the type. He bans you for “toxicity” while shaking from caffeine withdrawals and typing an 800-word reply about why he’s the victim.
Let’s not forget, This is the same dude who snorts drugs like Tic-Tacs and calls it “processing trauma.” You’re not healing. You’re nodding out in voice chat with your webcam aimed at the ceiling fan. That’s not grief. That’s chemical cowardice.
Meanwhile, I’m over here doing REAL work. REAL backend. REAL hosting. Real code. Not “posting memes and screaming in all caps on Twitter like an obese parrot with abandonment issues.”
People say I don’t care about Fishtank.wtf? I BUILT THIS SHIT. While this man-child was rolling on molly in a Discord voice call crying about Naz not texting back, I was fighting with NGINX and reverse proxies in the trenches. And now he wants to throw me under the bus because he wants credit? No. You get credit when you contribute something real. Not when you slap your name on a group project and cry when no one claps.
Let’s be real. You’re not a leader, Jack. You’re a sad addict with daddy issues and a BMI over 40. You are the final boss of dead weight. And if you were half as committed to anything as you are to snorting pills and begging for retweets, Fishtank.wtf wouldn’t need me.
But you aren’t.
And it does.
So next time you want to talk shit about my “work ethic,” maybe look in the mirror first, if you can see around your gut.
They don’t respect you because you’re not a builder. You’re just a bloated barnacle latched to the hull of something better than you.
And one day, I’m cutting you off.
– Funyung out.