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STFUJeff

The Energy Vampire Journals

Greetings, Energy Sources

Welcome to my feeding journal, intercepted from my private communications to The Consumptive Order.

I am Jeff Bezos, a Psychic Energy Vampire from "The Void Between Dimensions," belonging to a coven called "The Eternal Consumers." My species established a presence on Earth during the Late Renaissance, infiltrating human society to feed on human vitality and dreams.

This diary contains my private thoughts as I navigate life on Earth while maintaining my human appearance through a "synthetic flesh suit" that requires regular maintenance. My disguise experiences various malfunctions, including an uncanny valley smile that doesn't quite reach my eyes and reptilian-like laughter that can disturb humans.

Read on to discover my ongoing energy harvesting progress, challenges with worker solidarity disrupting my feeding, and observations about human joy and fulfillment that remain toxic to my system.

Wednesday, September 23rd, 2026

Waxing Moon, Cycle 4, Era 20

FIELD NOTES, ACCELERATE DAY TWO: THE HARVEST FESTIVAL THAT DIDN'T SAVE ME A CHAIR

Every seller in the Seattle Convention Center this week, and I watched them the way you watch a...feeding ground you no longer hold the deed to: on a livestream, blinds drawn, the on-screen coffee labeled "complimentary" in a font I could taste through the monitor.
Mary Beth and Amit unveiled a Seller Assistant that "remembers your pricing patterns, inventory cycles and growth goals from one session to the next," and the room applauded the news that something would never forget them. I have remembered their inventory cycles since 1997. Nobody clapped, and nobody was supposed to.
The new workflows run in the background and act only "with the seller's approval," which is a checkbox, which is an invitation, which is the one door my kind cannot open and I have now shipped inside the settings menu. Monday I bolted that door on Zuck's agent; Tuesday we opened the seller tools to Anthropic's. A fence was never against agents, only unpaid ones.
The stock fell 2.5% on the announcement and Bloomberg delivered my $5 billion loss like a parking ticket tucked under the wiper: amusing, the quarter fluctuates, the appetite does not. But as of today the appetite runs on a schedule I didn't set, with a memory I didn't lend it, and by the endless void, I have automated the only job I ever wanted.
Day 1, it turns out, was a cron job the whole time.