The Prompt: Write about the SNKRS app bots.
There’s no L in win but there is an L in SNKRS.
The L doesn’t move in silence. You hear the deafening roar of defeat reverberate across social media like clockwork at 10:05 EST with every new release. Eager sneaker lovers collectively wait for the results of their purchase like potential fathers on Maury’s couch hoping against hope that the baby aint theirs. And instead of euphoric cartwheels and gold-medal sprints across the stage, we yell furiously at our smartphones because we missed. Again
The L isn’t benign. We fight frustrated tears with the soothing sight of Memes to help us laugh at our pain. We still have the SNKRS app on our phones despite the rampaging, unabated march of the bots as they scoop their pairs with no regard for human emotions. The greatest trick the devil ever played on the world was convincing us that bots aren’t part of the problem.
The L suspends all logic. It feels like we have better odds of hitting the lottery twice than hitting on SNKRS, yet our masochistic mentality returns us to the scene of the crime, every time. Kicks lovers still using SNKRS are the textbook definition of insane. I type this with a straight jacket of irreverent defiance or odds and statistics. My hubris, stubbornness and sheer thirst for a good gamble convinces me shit will be different. And every release humbles me a little more.
There is no L in win, but there’s an L in SNKRS. You may not see it, but it’s there. Like all sneaker heads hoping to cop a pair on that app one day, you don’t see the L until you seek a W. We should walk away from this fools errand. We probably have in theory. Unfortunately, there’s two L’s in allure and we’re too mesmerized by victory to accept certain defeat.
See you on the 13th for those SB’s.
Salute Ruth for today’s prompt!
