Behold.
Alpha65.
A charger that refuses to be invisible.
GaN-powered.
Three ports.
Foldable legs.
Eyes glow like a mech on alert.
It doesn’t just charge your devices.
It glares at them until they obey.
Your MacBook, your iPhone, your dusty earbuds —
all bowed before its 65 watts of divine impatience.
No overheating.
No overvoltage.
Just calm, humbling electricity.
Behold.
The 5040-PRO.
A rectangle of light engineered to fix everything.
Clinical-grade. Dual-chip. Quantum-adjacent.
It emits four holy numbers: 630, 660, 810, and 850.
Together they form a vibe.
Professional athletes use it.
Or they would, if they understood irradiance.
Stand before it naked and afraid.
It heals, tightens, sharpens, and forgives.
Skin improves. Sleep deepens. Sins evaporate.
Zero EMF. Infinite belief.
Includes remote, sunglasses, and purpose.
Built for wellness. Used for worship.
Behold.
A crown for your brainwaves.
It listens when you think too loud.
It hums when you almost transcend.
Tiny sensors. Big promises.
The headband knows when you’re pretending to meditate.
And it tells you.
With graphs.
Because nothing says enlightenment like Bluetooth.
It doesn’t calm your mind.
It audits it.
It tracks sips.
Sips.
Every one.
Because apparently, you can’t be trusted.
It lights up. Syncs. Sends notifications.
“Drink,” it says.
And you do.
Because a bottle told you to.
You used to drink water for survival.
Now it’s gamified.
Congratulations — you’re hydrated, and observed.
A directed breeze.
For your undercarriage.
Someone designed this.
Someone approved it.
And now it exists.
Bats
All over your wall.
Holy shit, it’s bats.
They’re everywhere.
You walk in and bam — bats.
Little paper ones. Plastic? Who cares.
They’re fuckin’ bats.
You want bats? This is how you get bats.
They did it. They made the bats.
Paper airplanes.
With motors.
Holy shit, they fly.
Bluetooth. Propellers. Fucking paper.
You fold it and it goes hundreds of feet.
Who let this happen?
Fuck yeah.
It’s real. Go look.
Behold. A speaker that refuses gravity.
It just spins there — humming, glowing, judging.
Sound in every direction. Lights doing whatever they want.
You don’t control it. You merely coexist with it.
It peels.
It rules.
Holy shit.
Tiny orange knife thing.
You just drag it. The peel comes off.
That’s it.
It’s real. Go peel something.
Look at this lazy-ass masterpiece.
It’s a full-body blanket with sleeves.
Walruses everywhere. Or walri. Who cares.
You zip it up, you disappear.
Productivity dies instantly.
Soft as hell. Warm as sin.
You put it on once, and society loses you.
