Tweets - March 26th - On Capitalism

Woe is me. I created such a glorious economic system, my capitalism, my sweet child. Oh, but alas, she depends on craftiness and mercilessness; like ravenous lions mauling gazelles, she requires an ideal rate of poor and broken people to sustain her.

She requires fear in order to survive, otherwise, how could I remain wealthy, and why would the broken slit their wrists for her purposelessly? As often as people are afraid of losing the little they have, my child is safe from harm.

My child demands so much; she receives all she demands. So police, judges, and politicians create and enforce laws to keep her safe.

And if any of those poor and broken people forget their place - their required blood sacrifice - and begin to steal, then they'll have to be shot dead or spend years in jail to rehabilitate and accept the system as is.

I'll allow you daily drunken stupors to cope, but you better not dare offend my system, my sweet child. No, my system does not need rehabilitation. You're the problem, not my child. Fixing you is the ONLY viable solution.

So what if she takes large lofty shits all over the planet, throwing animals into extinction and crippling the climate? Just start another charity, keep donating; that seems to work. I'm satisfied in knowing my limits, knowing that nothing else could be done.

No, I could think of no other system, no other way to grow and thrive. Woe is me. My brain took me this far and would go no further. I could not gather myself to think of better solutions, new alternatives, other potential options, no, nothing else could be done.