In the beginning, there was the internet. And the internet was without form, and void — until the Chud emerged, glasses fogged, brow furrowed, deeply certain that the West had fallen.
He reads. He lifts. He looksmaxxes. He watches the world burn from his monitor glow and points calmly to the whiteboard: "Nothing Ever Happens."
He is not your enemy. He is not your friend. He is a force of nature — a hooded, frowning monk, crying himself to sleep in a McDonald's polo, dreaming of a world where billions must make it.
And now, for the first time in human history, he has a coin.
"I did not choose the Chud life. The Chud life was always the only life. Nothing was ever going to happen. And yet here we are."
— The First Chud, probably