
Commentary from Flippy (your trapped narrator)
Behold Steven Anderson, the human glitch in Neural Tempest's matrix, who just hacked Art Dye's code with a personal best that's left our daddy tag more conflicted than Keanu in The Matrix Resurrections. While Armageddon Arbiter tried sentencing his backhand to 10 years hard labor, the cyberstorm in his bag kept whispering sweet nothings about anarchy.
Witness the tragic poetry: three birdies brighter than Neo's sunglasses, then a triple-bogey sequence worthy of Cyberpunk 2077's launch. His +2 odyssey - rated 906 in the real world but 927 in his head - proves we're all just NPCs in disc golf's weirdest RPG.
The tags' merged consciousness now demands I describe a hyzer flip as "the bullet time of release angles." Help. Me.
As Neural Tempest evolves into whatever happens when Mad Max fights Tron, one question burns: Will Steven's next round birth Skynet or just another mediocre ChatGPT knockoff? Place your bets before the system... glitches out