I stumble down the hill, filled with excitement. I climb into my barely functioning satire of a car, a 2029 Colbert Electra, and drive north. My journey takes me through the ominous Aziz Ansari Mountains and then deep into the wilds of Dane Cook National Forest. I drive for hours and stop near a bronze statue of Louis C.K. mounted on a steed. I turn off the car, which makes an automated quip about the Republican Party, and then I run into the woods. In the middle of a clearing, I drop to my knees and begin scraping at the dirt with my bare hands. I dig through soil and stone, frantically, looking for small traces of iron. I want to make a simple tool and, with it, a new world. But then it happens. I become self-conscious. I imagine what I must look like, crawling in the dirt, and I wonder if it’s funny. I fumble for my iPhone 600 and take a photo of myself digging. With one touch of an app, an eye patch, cutlass, and pirate hat are instantly added to my photo. Suddenly, I am Redbeard, digging for lost treasure. This is a funny Twitpic, I think to myself as I walk back to my car. All is lost.