The Ugly-Looking Propaganda Mill in Illinois (ft. The Heartland Institute)

When life gives you gasoline: deny, deny, deny.

Alex Mell-Taylor
5 min readMay 24


thorJim Lakely

Why hello there, traveler, and welcome to the "Apocalypse Tour." This is the walking and architecture tour for all those catastrophe lovers out there, where we note the locations that significantly impacted species 947's collapse (947 were also known as humanity [hyoo·ma·nuh·tee]). We discuss the physical, digital, and sensual locations that contributed to humanity's untimely end on a tiny planet called Earth in the year 90,423 XE (what humans may know as 2XXX AD).

Today, we are looking at a propaganda monger called The Heartland Institute, which produced denialist literature meant to convince Species 947 that everything was fine and that their environment was not, in fact, collapsing. Denialists are common in collapsing ecosystems (for a more infamous example, see the wedon'tgiveaglorp death cult of Deoruta VI).

The headquarters for this unsavory organization was tucked away in an ecologically unstable community known as a suburb [suh·brb] — a type of community known for its unsightly and wonderfully disgusting architecture. The Heartland Institute was no different from every other sprawling building constructed during the downfall of human civilization. The giant house, referred to as a McMansion after a popular meat patty of the time, was a massive tan structure that snaked its way down a suburban street.

One immediately comes away with the impression that there is much to look at and not at the same time. One could be mistaken for believing that some unforgiving God duplicated the same hideous features over and over again in a holovid-building game. Why the flat walls that eke across the property? Why the hideous window frames that, when shut, make it look like the house is boarded up? And why the green sign vaguely reminiscent of an upscale Earthling dining establishment known as Olive Gardin (no, connection, as far as I can tell)?