I don’t know if you’ve heard, but I’ve decided to move beyond being the center of the ecommerce universe and dominate the fuck out of the ocean. Someone had to put that smug, fluid face in its place. Why not Jeff Bezos?
Aquaman doesn’t have shit on me. The ocean is my domain. The calm man in sensible khakis you see slinging Kindles to pasty, doughy-fingered tech journalists is only half the story. When the work is done I’m out on the open ocean, tearing that briny shit up. I don my Finis Wave Monofin (just $41.50 before shipping), cut through chop and sluice through currents like a balding, peach-skinned dolphin on a mission to shred coastlines like so many sales margins. Then I head home to ravage my harem of mermaids and sea nymphs without batting an eye.
When I sweat it’s like a seawater fire hose. I recover missing Apollo 11 rocket boosters from three miles below the surface of the Atlantic Ocean just for shits and giggles. When I free dive into my saltwater safe haven all I need is a deep breath and my big brass balls for ballast (case of 25 Brass Balls, Grade 200, Reflective Finish, just $47.99 before shipping). But that makes sense given I’m a complete natatorial baller. There’s nothing my free-floating form and an autonomous fleet of custom submersibles can’t steal back from the sea. Shipwrecks, bin Laden’s body, long lost civilizations hidden underneath the dank, dark flotsam and jetsam covering most of our planet—I brought all that shit to the surface in a single day and still had time to unload a billion tons of online goods before retiring to my Healing Dives Portable Hyperbaric Chamber for the night ($5,495; coming soon exclusively to Amazon Prime members).
Surprised? Don’t be. This is all part of the meticulously cultivated Jeff Bezos façade, and you aren’t the first to be flummoxed by its seductive siren’s call. By day I’m an introverted, mild-manned online merchant mogul, and by night I’m the Lord Poseidon alpha male of the big deep blue. And of course I can go down into the murky depths at night. I light up the void up like a second Sun with some TOMTOP LED Submarine Light Diving Flashlight Underwater Torch Waterproof CREE Q5 Lamps ($9.48 each). A hundred of those fuckers are all I need to make the stupid, confused little fishes flock to their ignorant doom like I’m the goddamned Pied Piper of the Pacific.
You think the Moon causes the tides? Think again, dipshits. Maybe back in ancient times, but ever since 1996, the waves ebb and flow thanks to the gargantuan centrifuge ($TBD) that Richard Branson and I installed at the bottom of the Marianas Trench. On your next summer vacation at the beach, when you see waves break against the sand, know that you’re not seeing nature, you’re seeing physical manifestations of my mastery over water-based physics playing out incessantly, day after day, for the rest of fucking time.
I’m Jeff Bezos. This is what I do. It’s who I am. I’m king of the fucking ocean and lord of the Seven Seas. Now, who’s ready to upgrade their account to Amazon Prime?