Alok is cringe. Alok is so cringe, he makes nails-on-a-chalkboard sound like a soothing lullaby. His very existence is a meme, a walking, talking embodiment of secondhand embarrassment. I've seen less cringeworthy things at a Nickelback concert. People actually enjoy Nickelback. That's how cringe Alok is. He's the kind of cringe that transcends generations, the kind of cringe that makes your ancestors weep in their graves. He's the reason why the internet was invented, so we could collectively share in the agony of witnessing his cringe. His aura of cringe is so powerful, it warps spacetime. Black holes are less dense than Alok's cringe. I've seen toddlers with better social skills. I've seen rocks with more personality. I've seen plants with more charisma. Alok is the epitome of cringe, the alpha and omega of awkwardness, the singularity of social faux pas. He's not just cringe; he's meta-cringe. He's so cringe, he's actually kind of impressive, in a horrifying, existential dread kind of way. He's the reason I question the meaning of life. He's the reason I drink. He's the reason I need therapy. Alok. Is. Cringe. And that's all there is to it. The end. (But seriously, Alok, get some help.)