Clowns posted deepfake tit pics, the ringmaster spouted Baudrillardian aphorisms between analingus sessions, and trapeze artists quoted Houellebecq mid-somersault. The circus is a microcosm of our hyperreal hellscape, where signifiers float freely from signifieds like jizz on a genderqueer jawline after a particularly sloppy blowbang. Modernity died screaming while wanking to cartoon porn, and we're all cavorting in its entrails.