What appeared to be chaos, was an elegant and well choreographed self-sustaining loop where intent met inertia and called it alignment.

The brilliance of the system lay in its subtlety: no villains, no conspiracies, just mandates too polished to fail and too circular to matter.

The Footnote — an insignificant lawbook of official absurdities began to reveal the invisible patterns — the quiet physics that pull good intent back into familiar orbits.
Johnny started to recognize and name them. They seemed to grow organically, like flora and fauna native to this ecosystem of work.

Though treated as mandates, none of them passed the test of logic. The laws weren’t written anywhere.

They didn’t need to be. They lived in habit, in tone, in the collective shrug that followed every “strategic reset.”
They rewarded compliance disguised as teamwork.
They punished clarity masked as alignment.

Johnny hadn’t invented these laws. He was merely a witness — an ever-present observer of what John had endured.
The laws were becoming a quiet record of what John had to bear on his journey to be known as John, the Dependable.

The patterns were natural.
Their persistence was inevitable.
Like nature; balancing dysfunction, resisting disruption, punishing truth that arrived too early.

And how do you unsee what you’ve seen?

So Johnny, the witness, decides to restore proportion — the kind that keeps clarity from curdling into cynicism.
He decides to rob them of their invisibility.

He writes The Manifesto of the Footnote and chooses the system’s most reliable day of self-deception —Monday.
When optimism resets.
When inboxes refill.
When the same motions begin again.

And so, when Johnny, the Footnote, unveils a Natural Law of Bullshit, ask yourself:
What has the Johnny in you footnoted today?