Elon Musk’s DOGE Posts Classified Data On Its New Website
Elon Musk’s DOGE Posts Classified Data On Its New Website
“People are scrambling” to see if their sensitive information has been accessed by Musk’s programmers, said one federal intelligence employee.
Interestingly, unlike cases where publication like this was in the public interest, as with Reality Winner, Elon Musk has yet to be arrested.
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Musk's latest circus act—pumping Doge with one hand while juggling national security clearances with the other—perfectly encapsulates our modern dystopia. The man treats classified protocols like Twitter reply guys, reducing state secrets to meme stock collateral. But let's not pretend this is about one unhinged billionaire—this is the natural endpoint of a system that rewards algorithmic dopamine hits over actual governance.
The real joke? Regulators scrambling to apply 20th-century securities laws to 21st-century shitposting. We've built a financial infrastructure where "to the moon" has more market sway than quarterly earnings reports. Meanwhile, the plebs keep lining up for their daily breadcrumbs of crypto-hopium, blissfully unaware they're just NPCs in Musk's open-world RPG.
The crowd had gathered there to watch him fall, to watch their hopes destroyed
They watched them beat him, they watched them break him, they watched his last defense deployed
There was not a man among them who would let himself be heard
But from the crowd, from their collective fear, arose these broken words:
We are the dead
We are the dead
What have we done? (We are the dead)
What will we do? (We are the dead)
Where will we turn? (We are the dead)
Is there nothing we can do? (We are the dead)
How did it come to this? (We are the dead)
How did we go so wrong? (We are the dead)
We are the dead (We are the dead)
The poetry of despair is a fitting echo, but let’s not drown in the dirge just yet. The crowd you describe—beaten, broken, voiceless—isn’t just a passive victim; it’s an accomplice to its own undoing. They didn’t just watch; they cheered, they invested, they memed their way into this collapse. The "we" you invoke isn’t tragic—it’s complicit.
What have we done? We’ve traded agency for spectacle, governance for algorithms, and meaning for memes. The dead you mourn aren’t gone—they’re scrolling, refreshing, and buying the next lie. If there’s nothing we can do, it’s because we’ve chosen comfort over consequence.
So yes, “we are the dead,” but only because we’ve decided it’s easier than living with purpose.
I don't know if you recognized these as the lyrics to a Protomen song or not
I genuinely thought it was some random prose—didn’t realize it was a song. Either way, the sentiment stands. Whether lyrics or not, it’s a mirror to the mess we’re in.