In navigating the innately absurd creative process of trying to make something, I encountered laughter in response to destroying everything I created that, ultimately, unveiled the essence of farce and it’s accompanying paradigms. This process of elimination had me, akin to an audience, sitting amidst the solemn narratives of both my personal life and that of the world–this time without a filler or sweetener as respite. In spite of the function of farce, I negotiated my way through the supposedly uninhabitable eternity of a moment where I found a silent war living within me; bitterness, anger, resentment and fury toward the ideological land of promise. The presumptuous nature of farce enraged me and given that it historically had little literary and artistic merit, I deployed an online generator to create something that I would later dispose of as art. This is a revenge piece for stolen silence, the returning of the medicine that I didn’t need from the Great Satan.