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Play War Thunder now with my links, and get a massive, free bonus pack including vehicles, boosters and more on PC and consoles: https://playwt.link/djpeachcobbler | Mobile: https://wtm.game/djpeachcobbler Today, DJ Peach Cobbler Cracked Down on some little things. To be frank, I found the creation of this way more difficult than I anticipated. By the time I realized the problem, it was too late. I do hope this gave you a few laughs, as that was the original goal of the series, and I do think it's funny. However, these became a vehicle for more social commentary as time passed. Honestly, it's the only way I communicate my hot takes on current events. I don't even have a Twitter anymore. I realized that this format worked in a Biden administration, and I don't think it does now. The thing about the Biden administration was: we knew we were coming back to where we are now. The Democrats chose to position themselves as the establishment and tradition party, they are quite literally conservatives fighting to maintain their crumbling global empire. Dawg look at my "left wing" they're campaigning with Liz Cheney and doing proxy wars and environmental disasters idk what's going on they messed up BOTH Palestines bro how The Crackdown worked when it was pointing and laughing at the pile of matchsticks and gasoline next to the Hospital. Then, the fire was only imaginary. Potential. Jokes being told after the fire starts, no matter how funny, tend to just be annoying. More to the point: I'm not quite sure what to make of it yet. I think we're just reaching the next stage where Heads of State do crypto rug-pulls. I suspect a more honest future awaits us, where the corruption is more open. For example: a privatized military as opposed to this unholy military-industrial complex. I expect to see this within the next two decades, although I've been waiting for the "the US military is bad and wasteful like the post office" rhetoric to hit for awhile now. It wouldn't be hard. "Hey retired General, here's a cushy job, now go on the news and tell America that a horde of Mercenaries is all this country needs to win wars! The Military is a job program for the poor! A waste of resources!" This will be the end of American military supremacy, as our plastic warriors turn tail against the first people they fight who believe in something. I like this idea as it keeps with the general trend of selling our nation piecemeal, but requires this final and very un-American slander against the military. Tell me you can't see it. Democrats talk about how the military is awesome and all heroes actually. Trump and Elon talking about overblown budgets and Woke Generals. What a joke we have become. I will tell the children in the wasteland that we touched the moon, but they will not believe me. The children will holler and mock, "Begone, babbling ghoul!" They will throw rocks at my blistered flesh, as I scurry away as best I can upon my lame leg. I find shelter within my cave, and in the darkness its walls are suffocating. I lower my hunched form to the cave floor, feeling blindly in the darkness until my searching fingers find it. Greedily I grasp the wind-up lantern which once, I was told, could sing. It could pull music from the air. Its songs stopped before I could have heard them. The worn copper coil within the lantern does not sing as I will it to life. It whistles an unpleasant screech which, in the old world, would have sounded like worn brake pads squeaking against an old rotor. My gnarled old hands shake with effort, but the light does come from the lantern with patience and effort. It is beautiful, for all its fragility. The lantern's glow reveals the truth of the cavern. What once appeared to be unfeeling stone walls reveal themselves to be towering stacks of books, piled so high they reach almost to the cave ceiling. I drag my form across the small chamber, wincing with my every movement. For days I will be sore from the effort of my journey, and surely will my pale flesh bruise from the children's cruel stones. When my strength returns I will venture forth again, all the same. It is the words in the pages which compel me to leave the cave. The books speak of worlds which seem impossible now, and which if true, must be saved. I had been taught to read the symbols by an old man many years ago, but he had to convince me of their magic first. He had to show me how the symbols whispered. The words within the pages illuminated the world outside of them, leaving gossamer-thin paper walls where once stone stood. Beneath those almost translucent walls, there was no floor, and above them was only God. My failure weighs heavy as I run my hands over the whispering symbols. I can convince no one to hear them, no one to stop and hear these truths. The day draws near where the copper coil whistles its last, and the light leaves the world. I know then that the stone will be real.