19 August, 2025

The Easy Way Out

 

The Easy Way Out = any choice that optimizes for immediate relief of effort, emotion, or uncertainty while predictably increasing future cost or constraint.

There. That’s the beast in one line. It’s not convenience, not efficiency, not “working smarter, not harder.” Those are intelligent strategies. The easy way out is stupidity dressed in comfort clothes. It’s relief now, invoice later.

And the invoice always comes.

With interest.

Look around you. Look at yourself. Most of the garbage in your life didn’t come from cosmic bad luck or cruel fate. It came from reaching for the nearest escape hatch instead of staying in the room and facing the fire.


I. The Taxonomy of Evasion

The easy way out rarely shows up and introduces itself honestly. It’s a coward, so it hides. It wears masks. It speaks in a voice designed to calm you while it sabotages you.

  • “It’s practical.” (Translation: I’m too lazy to do the real thing.)
  • “Just this once.” (Hello, habit loop. Goodbye, credibility.)
  • “I’ll start Monday.” (And on Tuesday, you’ll say the same thing.)
  • “Be realistic.” (The anthem of people who gave up before trying.)
  • “At least it’s something.” (Yes, something useless.)

But behind the masks, there are the engines. These are the real drivers, and they’re as old as human psychology:

  • Uncertainty aversion: better the devil you know than the one you don’t.
  • Ego protection: if I never try, I can never fail.
  • Social friction avoidance: peace today, resentment tomorrow.
  • Hyperbolic discounting: future pain feels like it belongs to someone else.
  • Learned helplessness: the more you’ve failed before, the easier it is to pre-fail now.
  • Status quo bias: inertia isn’t just powerful, it feels righteous.

This is the machinery of surrender.

You don’t notice it running.

You just breathe in the sweet relief and call it a decision.


II. The Gallery of Manifestations

Let’s visit the museum of mediocrity. Every exhibit is a monument to the easy way out.

Health & Body

  • “I’ll start exercising after I lose some weight.” Genius, like saying you’ll start swimming after you learn to breathe underwater.
  • Skipping physiotherapy and popping pills instead. That’s not medicine; that’s a slow-motion self-amputation.

Relationships

  • Ghosting instead of facing a breakup. Because disappearing like a coward is somehow easier than saying, “I don’t love you.”
  • Staying in a toxic relationship because at least you know the script. Misery is predictable, growth is not.

Parenting

  • Screens as babysitters. Congratulations, you outsourced your kid’s brain to TikTok.
  • Bribing tantrums with candy. You just taught your child that screaming is a vending machine.

Work & Money

  • Scheduling meetings instead of making decisions. The corporate religion of doing nothing loudly.
  • Minimum credit card payments. Debt as a lifestyle choice.
  • Quick hacks in code instead of proper structure. Today you saved an hour, tomorrow you inherit a nightmare.

Learning & Craft

  • Buying another course instead of practicing. You’re not learning, you’re collecting digital trophies.
  • Copy-pasting code you don’t understand. You’re not coding, you’re building a bomb you’ll be forced to sit on later.

Ethics & Society

  • Retweeting outrage instead of actually acting. Keyboard warrior, frontline zero.
  • Buying carbon offsets so you don’t have to feel bad about your four vacations a year. That’s not saving the planet; that’s indulgence dressed as penance.

III. When the Easy Way Out Pretends to Be Wisdom

To be fair, not every shortcut is cowardice. Sometimes the easy path is a tactical retreat, not a surrender. The difference matters.

  • Triage: you let one battle go because you’re fighting three others that matter more.
  • Safety: stepping back because you don’t have the resources to take the hit right now.
  • Timing: deferring action until the leverage is on your side.

But don’t fool yourself. Most of the time, “strategic retreat” is just Latin for “cowardice.”

If the only thing your choice delivers is relief,

it’s not strategy. It’s surrender.


IV. Field Tests: How to Spot the Trap

Here’s how to catch yourself in the act:

  • Relief Test: If relief is the main benefit, you’re screwed.
  • Future-Me Test: Would future-me thank me in 90 days, or curse me?
  • Option-Space Test: Does this shrink my future choices? If yes, congratulations, you just bought a prison cell.
  • Honesty Test: Could you explain your choice without euphemisms or excuses? If not, you already know the truth.

V. The Invoice of Relief

The easy way out sells itself as free. It’s not. It’s credit. Every time you reach for it, you’re swiping a card with compound interest. The bill shows up in pounds gained, debts unpaid, relationships poisoned, skills undeveloped, futures strangled.

The truth: the easy way out isn’t easy at all. It’s just deferred suffering.
And the longer you defer it, the heavier it gets.

So stop lying to yourself. Stop dressing cowardice as pragmatism. Stop calling surrender “being realistic.” You’re not fooling anyone, least of all yourself.

The easy way out isn’t the escape hatch.
It’s the trapdoor.

14 August, 2025

The Truth Is Ugly. That’s Why You’ll Hate It.

 

Intro — The Day I Forgot What I Know

I know better.
I’ve spent enough years on this planet to understand one basic fact of human nature: people don’t want the truth. They want comfortable platitudes, reassuring lies, and their own ideas coming out of other people’s mouths.

But every now and then, I forget.

Case in point: I was on Reddit, mistake number one, when I stumbled across a post where the Original Poster was foaming at the mouth about a private publishing house that dared to use an AI-generated book cover instead of hiring a graphic designer.

Against my better judgment, I dropped a simple comment:

“A private publishing house’s primary purpose is to make money, not to give jobs.”

This, I thought, was basic reality. Economics 101. It’s not even an opinion, it’s just how the system works. Surely, this one sentence would snap people out of their righteous outrage and close the case.

Oh, the sweet naivety.

The downvotes rolled in like medieval villagers with torches. The OP hit me with whataboutisms, emotional appeals, and unrelated moral crusades. The crowd applauded. The truth had been spoken — and then buried under the village square, face down, with a stake through its heart.

And here’s the thing: I don’t care about the downvotes. They’re meaningless. What mattered was the reminder of a lesson I already knew: people hate ugly truths because they bruise their egos, puncture their illusions, and interrupt their warm bath of shared indignation.

So, let’s carve this corpse open and have a good look inside.


1. Truth vs. Comfort — The Addiction to Being Right

Humans are addicts. Not to nicotine, sugar, or caffeine, those are just side hustles.
The main drug of choice is being right.

We all swear we “want the truth,” but what we actually want is truth that agrees with us. A truth that makes us feel smart, righteous, and morally clean. Something we can nod at, not something that makes us flinch.

Drop an ugly truth into the conversation, like the one I did, and you’ve just slammed a brick into someone’s fragile glass ego. And here’s the funny part: if the brick breaks the bottle, it’s the brick’s fault. Not the fact that maybe, just maybe, they’ve been sipping the wrong drink all along.

Most people don’t “search for the truth,” they go shopping for confirmation. They want content that affirms their worldview, not challenges it. If it contradicts them, it’s “biased.” If it agrees with them, it’s “objective.”

When I told the Reddit mob that the publishing house existed to make money, not to uphold their sense of artistic morality, I wasn’t disagreeing with their taste, I was tearing down the stage where they were performing as noble defenders of Art. And you don’t just boo someone for that. You throw rotten vegetables.


2. Validation Over Solutions — The Sacred Complaint Circle

Here’s the part that most “fixers” don’t get: complaints are rarely requests for help. They’re invitations to a ritual.

The ritual goes like this:

  • I complain.
  • You nod, agree, and maybe share your own complaint.
  • We bond over the shared misery.

This is sacred. This is holy. And you, with your neat, factual, two-sentence solution, you’ve just desecrated the temple.

When someone complains about a company, they don’t want to hear that the company is simply acting in its own interest within the rules of capitalism. They want to hear how greedy, evil, and disgusting the company is — in poetic, emotionally satisfying detail. You’re supposed to join the circle, light a candle, and sing the hymn of Righteous Outrage.

Offer a real-world explanation, and you’ve just ended the ceremony mid-verse. And people don’t like that because if the problem can be explained in practical terms, that means it can be solved, and if it can be solved, that means they have to stop complaining. And the complaint itself was the whole point.


3. Punishment of Unpleasant Reality — Shooting the Messenger

When reality is unpleasant, the first instinct isn’t to adapt to it. It’s to kill whoever brought it up.

You’d think that calmly stating a fact would make people less defensive, that it would show you’re not there to provoke. Wrong. Calm delivery makes it worse because now they can’t dismiss you as an extremist or a troll. You’ve left them with no way to discredit the message except by attacking you.

And that’s the real reason ugly truths get buried under downvotes, insults, and collective outrage. Not because they’re wrong, but because they force people to face a world that doesn’t align with their preferences. That’s painful. That’s inconvenient. And in today’s culture, “painful” and “inconvenient” are synonymous with “offensive.”

So the mob doesn’t try to dismantle your argument. They dismantle you.


Outro — Why This Matters (and Why It Won’t Change)

This isn’t just about Reddit. It’s not even just about online culture. It’s about human wiring. The truth will always be the underdog because the brain is a comfort-first, accuracy-second machine.

People don’t actually want the truth, they want a truth-shaped pillow they can hug at night. They want to hear their own beliefs echoed back at them in someone else’s voice, so they can pretend they’re part of a great chorus of wisdom.

And when you, idiot that you are, take away the pillow and hand them the actual truth, don’t be surprised when they try to smother you with it.

So let me make it simple:
If you ever want to be liked, tell people what they want to hear.
If you ever want to be hated, tell them the truth.
And if you want both, good luck!