Watson Thomas — failed filmmaker, ailurophile, psychonaut — unleashes a fractal scream from the edge of oblivion, reducing our obsessions to the primal binary of monkey and banana. Part psychedelic odyssey, part Appalachian war whoop, part consumerist koan, “The Monkey–Banana Reduction” morphs parody into metamodern semi-autobiographical absurdism. Recursive, self-aware, and achingly sincere, this looping, media-saturated hallucination shatters the monolithic wall of our false fetishes — those bananas we hoard as proof of worth — and summons us to a wilderness epiphany where smashing idols is the only path to genuine freedom. A mythic riff on group consciousness and self-surrender, “The Monkey–Banana Reduction” stands as both fierce indictment and urgent invitation: tear down your altars, embrace absurdity, and awaken to life unchained . . . or, you know, don’t.