gold-3
Original: gold-3 on Saturday Morning Breakfast Cereal
Transcript
Panel 1: A salesman in a suit gestures, set against a red, fiery, apocalyptic background with skeletal trees and collapsing buildings.
Salesman: "Civilization may collapse at any second?"
Panel 2: The salesman points downward toward a stack of gold bars.
Salesman: "That's why we sell gold! The one asset that protects you during the worth-draining times upon us. World-draining fires that swallow us all... Available now at low, low prices!"
Panel 3: The salesman raises his arms triumphantly against the same fiery red apocalyptic backdrop.
Salesman: "But then why are we selling its gold for my soon-to-be worthless cash?!"
Panel 4: Two people lie in bed together in a calm, dark room.
Person 1: "Just go around the corner... doooooooooom!"
Person 2: "We are in the presence of a saint?"
Votey:
Handwritten text: "There should be a law that shows predicting doom can't sell gold in commercials"
Salesman: "Civilization may collapse at any second?"
Panel 2: The salesman points downward toward a stack of gold bars.
Salesman: "That's why we sell gold! The one asset that protects you during the worth-draining times upon us. World-draining fires that swallow us all... Available now at low, low prices!"
Panel 3: The salesman raises his arms triumphantly against the same fiery red apocalyptic backdrop.
Salesman: "But then why are we selling its gold for my soon-to-be worthless cash?!"
Panel 4: Two people lie in bed together in a calm, dark room.
Person 1: "Just go around the corner... doooooooooom!"
Person 2: "We are in the presence of a saint?"
Votey:
Handwritten text: "There should be a law that shows predicting doom can't sell gold in commercials"
Alt text
A four-panel SMBC comic satirizing gold-investment commercials. In the first three panels a suited salesman stands against a fiery red apocalyptic backdrop of burning skeletal trees and collapsing buildings. He asks whether civilization may collapse at any second, then pitches gold as the one asset that protects you through these world-draining, fiery end times, available now at low prices. He raises his arms and abruptly asks why, then, they are selling that gold in exchange for his own soon-to-be worthless cash, exposing the contradiction in the sales pitch: if money is going to be worthless, why trade gold for it. In the final panel the scene shifts to two people lying together in a dark, calm bedroom, far from the apocalyptic imagery, reacting to the doom-mongering. The votey (aftercomic) is a single panel of handwritten text reading: "There should be a law that shows predicting doom can't sell gold in commercials."
Transcribed by Claude Opus 4.8.