I’m the last loyal Roman, standing in the Senate, holding the line like Cincinnatus—but everyone around me is livestreaming the sack of Rome.
I’m over here quoting Cicero. They're quoting Charli D’Amelio.
"Friends, Romans, countrymen—stop trying to monetize the fall of Western civilization!"
The Vandals are literally at the gates, and the consul’s like, “But have we tried negotiating through vibes?”
I walk into the Senate with a scroll. Everyone else is on Canva making “inspirational fall of empire” quote posters.
“Et tu, Brute?” in cursive over a sunset.”
I try to organize a last-ditch military defense of the Republic, and my general’s like, “Hold on, I’m editing my OnlyLegions profile.”
The aqueducts are breaking down, and someone suggests we replace them with NFTs.
Our economy’s in ruins, but the Emperor’s priority?
“I’m dropping a new merch line: ‘Fall Harder – Limited Edition Sandals.’”
People ask me if Rome fell because of inflation, decadence, or external enemies. No.
Rome fell because someone installed a wine bar inside the Pantheon and started hosting gender reveal parties.
I told them, “If we don’t reform the military, we’re finished.”
They said, “We’ll get to it... right after the empire-wide rebranding strategy.”
At this point I’m holding the border with three half-trained auxiliaries and a legionnaire named Chad who thinks Carthage is a crypto exchange.
I'm just one toga-clad man screaming into the void, as the Western world collapses under hashtags and hummus boards.
