Why I Walked Away from WWE

Here’s something you may not know about me: I used to be a huge pro wrestling fan. I started with WCW, but then they got bought out by WWF (now WWE.) I knew it was all bullshit storylines and bullshit feuds, but it was entertaining. After so many years though, I drew a line. The entire illusion died when WWE partnered with Saudi Arabia.

People frame the deal as a moral lapse or a bad PR move. It wasn’t. It was capitalism doing exactly what it’s designed to do. Capital does not care where money comes from, only that it comes. When accumulation is the highest value, repression becomes just another market.

The Saudi shows weren’t “global expansion.” They were sportswashing: using spectacle to launder the image of a state built on censorship, executions, and violence against dissenters. WWE didn’t wander into that role accidentally, it accepted it enthusiastically, signed long-term contracts, and adjusted its product to fit the needs of power.

And this is where the “it’s just wrestling” defense collapses. WWE actively reshaped its content” editing women’s gear, limiting performers, scrubbing chants, rewriting narratives. That’s not neutrality. That’s discipline. Capital always demands discipline, especially from bodies.

Which makes sense because WWE has always been a factory that runs on bodies.

Wrestlers are classified as “independent contractors” while being controlled like employees. Injuries are treated as costs of doing business. Unionization is crushed before it can form. Careers are shortened, pain is normalized, and the company walks away clean. The Saudi deal didn’t contradict this model, it extended it. If workers’ bodies can be consumed for profit, why not public conscience too?

What WWE exposed is something bigger than wrestling. Under capitalism, there is no ethical entertainment, only profitable entertainment. Values exist only until they interfere with revenue. Empowerment is a slogan. Progress is branding. Human rights are negotiable.

Boycotting WWE isn’t about pretending my absence would topple a billion-dollar corporation. It was about refusing to play my assigned role as passive consumer while capital uses spectacle to anesthetize atrocity. Capital wants you entertained, distracted, and grateful, never asking where the money comes from or who pays the price.

I miss wrestling. But what I miss was never just the product. It was the illusion that something I loved existed outside the logic of extraction and domination. The Saudi deal shattered that illusion completely.

WWE didn’t betray its fans. It told the truth about itself. And once you see that truth — that capital has no red lines, only price points — you can’t unsee it.

Walking away wasn’t purity. It was clarity.

The Myth of Choice

**This is not my original work. I received it in an email from a group I joined called “Simplifying Socialism.”**

We’re told capitalism is freedom because it gives us choice. Thousands of products, dozens of brands, endless options. Pick your sneakers, your streaming service, your fast-food meal. The market is democracy in action, right?

But peek behind the curtain and you’ll see how “free” the choices we make actually are.

Abundance as Illusion

Walk into any grocery store and you’ll see aisle after aisle packed with competing brands. Twenty different cereals, fifty kinds of chips, hundreds of drink options. It feels like abundance. But behind the labels, the vast majority of those products are owned by the same handful of corporations. Nestlé, PepsiCo, Unilever, Kraft Heinz — a tiny cluster of companies control most of what fills the shelves.

What looks like competition is often monopoly in disguise. The “choice” isn’t between different visions of production or different systems of ownership. It’s just which logo you want stamped on the same profit-driven structure.

This isn’t just food. Tech is the same story. We’re told we have freedom because we can pick Apple or Samsung, Android or iPhone. But each comes with its own traps (proprietary software, built-in obsolescence, surveillance baked into the product). The decision is narrowed to surface-level differences while the real power remains untouched.

The illusion of abundance is shoved down our throats as we are relegated from humans to consumers.

Essentials Without Real Options

The illusion gets crueler when we look at the choices that actually matter for survival.

Healthcare: You can choose between insurance plans, but every option is unaffordable, confusing, and leaves you vulnerable. Millions still go bankrupt over medical bills. Your healthcare is often tied to your employment. Where’s the freedom in that?
Housing: You can pick your landlord, but the rent keeps climbing. You can choose between renting forever or drowning in mortgage debt. Owning a home isn’t a dream for most — it’s a chain and shackles.
Work: You can choose which boss to sell your labor to, but you can’t opt out of selling it entirely. Unless you’re independently wealthy, your “choice” is which workplace will exploit you. Fear not, you can make the choice to go into business for yourself (if you have good credit).

Capitalism calls this freedom, but it’s a false freedom. A choice within limits you didn’t set, with outcomes you can’t control. Real freedom lies not in the illusion of choice, but in the ability to live day-to-day without the worry of hospital bills or rising rent prices destroying our dignity.

Manufactured Desires

Even when options exist, they’re shaped by advertising and cultural pressure. “Choice” becomes less about what you want and more about what you’ve been convinced to want.

Do you really need a new phone every year, or has marketing manufactured that need? Do you choose fast fashion because it’s what you want, or because the industry deliberately conditions you to keep buying at the pace of their profits? Do you have any use whatsoever for Birkenstocks, or do you want them because they are trendy right now?

Capitalism sells us the story that we’re sovereign consumers making rational decisions. But in reality, our desires are engineered, our needs distorted, and our choices narrowed to what generates profit. Capitalism wins when companies succeed at turning our wants into needs, or at least by making us think that we need things we absolutely do not.

Freedom vs. Necessity

Here’s the Marxist insight: freedom isn’t about picking between products; it’s about control over the conditions of your life.

Choosing between Uber and Lyft is not real freedom.
Choosing between ten brands of sneakers is not real freedom.
Choosing between healthcare plans that all bankrupt you is not real freedom.

Freedom is having power over how your labor is used, how resources are distributed, and how your community is shaped. It’s the ability to decide not just between products, but between systems, to collectively govern the economy instead of being governed by it.

That kind of choice, democratic, collective, meaningful, is what socialism points toward. A society built on real collaboration instead of false competition is what we are missing out on by continuing to accept capitalism. Our labor keeps the machine going but instead of reward we are met with a whip to the back proclaiming that we must “work harder!” That is the reality of capitalism.

Conclusion

Capitalism hands us a menu full of small, shallow choices while stripping us of the big ones that matter. We can debate endlessly about which streaming service to pay for, but we have no say in whether housing is affordable, whether our cities are polluted, or whether our labor enriches us or someone else.

Socialism isn’t about taking away freedom. It’s about making real freedom possible. Because the ability to pick between fifty cereals means nothing if you can’t afford breakfast. We can, and we must, leave capitalism in the “museum of antiquities,” as Engels put it.

The future belongs to us, but it will not be handed to us.

Capitalism Milks the Dead

In America dying isn’t the end of your problems. It’s the start of someone else’s payday.

The U.S. funeral industry is a masterclass in capitalism’s ability to monetize practically everything, even grief. The average funeral with burial costs $7,000-$12,000, and that’s before you buy the plot, the headstone, or the flowers. If you want to be cremated, you get to see the $5,000 “cremation packages” padded with memorial videos, keepsake urns, and “optional” services you’re told are essential.

It wasn’t always this way. I should know. I wanted to be an embalmer back when I was 16 through my early 20s. I researched the entire industry just because I used to be a good little capitalist and wanted to know what would make me the most money without having to deal with people. You see, before the 1960s, funerals were modest, local, and often handled partly by the family. However, the corporate consolidation came along. Giants like Service Corporation International began quietly buying up small funeral homes, keeping their names, and centralizing operations. That’s when the real profiteering began.

Here’s how they squeeze the bereaved:

Casket markups of 200-400% over wholesale.
Burial vaults sold as “protection” for your loved one’s casket (they’re really just protecting cemetery landscaping.)
Embalming pushed as a requirement, even though it’s legally required in very few cases.
Bundled “packages” that hide inflated costs and make it harder to remove overpriced items.

The Federal Trade Commission tried to rein them in with the Funeral Rule in 1984, which requires itemized pricing, but industry lobbying watered it down. Enforcement is weak, and corporate funeral chains keep finding new ways to upsell when you’re least able to fight back.

The most obscene part? This predatory pricing works because it’s aimed at people in mourning; people who don’t want to “cheap out” on honoring a loved one. The guilt is baked into the business model.

Death should be a time for mourning and remembrance, not another transaction in the endless marketplace of American life, but in a country where every human need — from healthcare to housing — is for sale, it’s no surprise the final stop is too.

In the good old U S of A, they’ll tax you while you live, squeeze you while you work, and sell you dignity when you die.

I’m Sick of Living in a Country With a Price Tag on Survival

There’s something deeply wrong with a society that puts a dollar sign on everything: air, water, healthcare, housing, even hope.

In America, you don’t get to live, you get to rent existence. And the rent keeps going up.

Need to drink water? Better hope your tap isn’t poisoned, privatized, or shut off because you’re behind on the bill. Need to see a doctor? Hope you can navigate the insurance labyrinth, dodge bankruptcy, and survive long enough to get an appointment three months from now.

This isn’t a functioning society. It’s a hostile marketplace cosplaying as civilization.

We slap “In God We Trust” on the currency, but worship profit above all. Billionaires hoard resources like dragons while kids ration insulin. Corporations dump chemicals into rivers while charging us for clean water. Politicians talk about “personal responsibility” while handing corporate welfare to their donors.

Everything is for sale … except dignity.

This system wasn’t built to help us. It was built to extract from us. Your labor, your time, your energy, your life. All monetized. The only thing “essential” in this economy is your ability to generate profit for someone else.

And when you stop being profitable? You’re disposable. That’s the cold logic of capitalism. It doesn’t care if you suffer. It needs you to.

But here’s the thing: people are waking up. The cracks are visible. The rage is growing. The question now isn’t “Is this sustainable?”, it’s “What the hell are we going to do about it?”

We can’t shop our way out of this. We can’t vote our way out of it alone. This is going to take organizing. Disruption. Solidarity. Mutual aid. Refusing to play their game by their rules.

Because survival should not be for sale.

And I, for one, am done pretending this is normal.

Grind Till You Break: America’s Obsession with Hustle

America loves a good grind. We praise it, post about it, glorify it. If you’re not exhausted, caffeinated, and juggling three side hustles, are you even trying? But let’s be real: grind culture isn’t noble. It’s not empowering. It’s a trap. And America fell headfirst into it.

Here’s why the U.S. can’t stop romanticizing burnout:

1. We inherited a guilt-based work ethic

It starts with the Protestant work ethic, an old idea that hard work is a sign of moral virtue and maybe even diving approval. This mindset bled into American capitalism, turning labor into a moral obligation.

If you’re not working, you’re failing. If you’re resting, you’re suspect.

2. Capitalism depends on it

Grind culture keeps capitalism humming. The more you internalize the need to hustle, the less you question why wages suck, why healthcare is tied to your job, or why billionaires exist at all. Tired people don’t start revolutions, they start GoFundMes.

3. The American Dream is a rigged game

The myth goes like this: if you work hard enough, you’ll “make it.” So if you’re poor? You must not be grinding hard enough.

That’s how America blames individuals for systemic failure. It’s not the economy that’s broken, you just didn’t want it badly enough. Spoiler: the Dream mostly works for people who were already halfway there.

4. Individualism turned toxic

America doesn’t just glorify self-reliance, it weaponizes it.

We’re told to pull ourselves up by our bootstraps, even if we don’t have boots. Asking for help is weakness. Solidarity is socialism. Suffering becomes a badge of honor. So people burn out to prove they’re strong. Or worse … worthy.

5. Corporate propaganda fuels it

Workplaces love to “celebrate” hustle just enough to avoid paying for it. Overtime? That’s loyalty. Burnout? That’s dedication. Here’s a pizza party and a LinkedIn post, now get back to it. Meanwhile, the CEO makes more in a day than you will this year.

6. There’s no net below us

In most rich countries, healthcare is a right. In America, it’s a benefit–one you only get is you’re grinding hard enough at the right kind of job.

With no real safety net, people don’t grind to get ahead. They grind to avoid collapse. It’s fear dressed up as ambition.

7. Work becomes identity

Especially for men, but increasingly for everyone, work isn’t just what we do, it’s who we are. our value gets tied to productivity. Our self-worth depends on output.

Stop hustling, and suddenly you’re not broke … you’re nobody.

Bottom line:

Grind culture isn’t about freedom or fulfillment. It’s a coping mechanism for living in a system that doesn’t care if you collapse. The hustle is real, but so is the exploitation.

We don’t need more hustle. We need healthcare. We need time. We need solidarity.

TL;DR

America treats exhaustion like a status symbol, work like religion, and billionaires like gods.

Rest is rebellion.

And maybe … so is saying “no.”

“Can’t be king of the world unless you’re a slave to the grind.” -Skid Row

“One Big Beautiful Boot”–Trump’s Bill is Just Capitalism with its Mask Off

While liberals are pearl-clutching and conservatives are clapping like trained seals, the U.S. state just reminded us — again — that it only exists to protect capital and crush the poor.

Trump’s “One Big Beautiful Bill” just passed. A 1,000 page orgy of tax cuts for the rich, surveillance-state expansion, environmental vandalism, and open war on the working class. They’re not even pretending anymore. The boot isn’t just stomping, it’s doing it with patriotic fireworks and a press release.

What’s in this monstrosity?

Permanent tax cuts for the wealthy, including “relief” on tips and gig work. Translation: handouts for bosses, crumbs for precarious workers.
Billions for border walls, ICE, and CBP. The U.S. is investing in a future where desperate people are hunted like animals.
Slashing Medicaid and food stamps, forcing people to work to death for scraps while the rich lounge in yachts subsidized by tax breaks.
Torpedoing climate policy. Clean energy incentives? Gone. Fossil fuel subsidies? Pumped full of cash.
Newborn “MAGA savings accounts” because nothing says “freedom” like indoctrinating infants into capital accumulation from day one.

They even raised the debt ceiling by $5 trillion so they could do it all without blinking. No panic over the deficit now because the spending serves power.

This bill is not “big” or “beautiful.” It’s discipline — state discipline in service of capital. It rewards extraction, exploitation, and domination. It punishes care, solidarity, and survival. It doesn’t just hurt the poor, it’s designed to remind them who’s in charge.

Liberals will write op-eds about how “deeply concerning” it is. Conservatives will call it a “victory for the American worker.” But those of us truly on the left know: both parties serve the same machine. One smiles while tightening the chains, the other spits in your face as it does. The illusion of reform is dead.

The state cannot be reformed. You don’t pass 1,000 pages of fascist legislation and pretend this system can be voted out of tyranny. This is why we fight for abolition, not revision. No tweaks. No “better Democrats.” No savior presidents. Burn the whole damn thing down.

“If voting changed anything, they’d make it illegal.” -Emma Goldman (and probably your gut too.)

So what do we do now?

We organize. Not to win elections, but to build dual power, sabotage capitalist logistics, defend our communities, and imagine a world without the state and without billionaires.

We do mutual aid, we educate, we disrupt. We make it ungovernable.

Because if this is what law looks like then we owe it nothing but our resistance.

No masters. No “beautiful bills.” Just solidarity, sabotage, and the end of all empires.

Does Communism Kill Individuality?

Or Is That Just Capitalist Propaganda?

You’ve probably heard it before: “Communism doesn’t breed individuals.” It’s a go-to jab for anyone trying to defend capitalism as the champion of freedom, creativity, and self-expression.

But let’s stop and ask: Is that actually true? Or is it just one of those lazy talking points that people repeat without thinking?

The Claim:

Critics of communism love to say it crushes individualism. They’ll tell you it turns everyone into drones, serving the collective and losing all sense of self. No more art. No more weirdos. Just gray buildings and gray people, all saying the same thing in perfect unison.

Scary, right?

The Reality:

1. Not All Communism Is Stalin in a Bad Mood

There’s no single “communism.” What people usually mean is authoritarian state socialism—like Stalinism. But that’s not the whole story.

There’s also:

Libertarian socialism, which emphasizes radical freedom through collective liberation.

Anarcho-communism, which fights both capitalism and the state.

Council communism, where power is decentralized and workers run everything directly.

Not exactly hive mind territory.

2. Marx Wasn’t Anti-Individual

Marx’s whole project was about freeing people from wage slavery and letting them develop into full human beings. He didn’t hate individuality—he hated a system that forced you to sell your life by the hour just to survive.

“In communist society… the free development of each is the condition for the free development of all.” – Karl Marx

That doesn’t sound like someone who wants to erase you. It sounds like someone who wants you to have time to actually be you.

3. Capitalism Doesn’t “Breed Individuals” Either

Let’s be real. Under capitalism, your so-called “individuality” often boils down to which brand you consume or how well you perform on social media. You’re free to express yourself—as long as it sells. You can “be yourself,” but only if you can afford the entry fee.

Capitalism sells individuality the way fast food sells happiness: brightly packaged, deeply hollow.

4. Socialist Cultures Produced a Lot of “Individuals”

Ever heard of Dostoevsky? Eisenstein? Mayakovsky? Hell, even the Red Army Choir slaps. The USSR may have been authoritarian, but it wasn’t artistically sterile. And outside of the USSR, there were experiments like anarchist Catalonia and Yugoslavia that explicitly encouraged creativity and local autonomy.

Individuality didn’t die—it evolved.

Does authoritarian communism sometimes suppress individuality? Yes.

Does capitalism do the same, just with better marketing? Also yes.

The truth is: The system that actually supports individuality is the one that liberates you from economic coercion. That might be socialism. That might be anarchism. But it sure as hell isn’t wage slavery in a hoodie.

So next time someone says “Communism kills individuality,” ask them:

Does your job let you be yourself? Or just sell a version of yourself that keeps the shareholders happy?

The Transactional Tragedy of Terrance Blip

Terrance Blip was a man of modest ambitions: toast with the perfect butter-to-crisp ratio, socks without holes, and a bank account that didn’t judge him every time he opened his finance app. He lived alone in a studio apartment sandwiched between a psychic who only predicted Tuesdays and a taxidermist who specialized in emotionally distressed rodents.

One evening, while trying to return a cursed air fryer he had impulse-bought during a depressive episode, Terrance tripped over a knockoff lava lamp at a garage sale. It shattered with a melodramatic poof and out came a genie wearing aviators, a Hawaiian shirt, and the resigned aura of someone who’d been summoned during Love Island reruns.

“Congratulations,” said the genie, sipping a LaCroix. “You get one wish. Not three. That’s a myth. Union rules.”

Terrance blinked. “One? That’s not very—”

“Choose wisely or stupidly,” the genie interrupted. “I grant both with equal enthusiasm.”

Terrance, who had been recently charged $4.99 to cancel a free trial, didn’t hesitate.

“I wish that every cent I’ve ever spent in my entire life suddenly reappears in my bank account.”

The genie raised a suspicious eyebrow, which somehow hovered three inches off his face. “You sure? No ‘make me happy’ or ‘stop climate change’ or ‘bring back dinosaurs but they’re chill this time’?”

“Nope. I want my money back. Every dollar. From diapers to drinks. Give it all to Future Me.”

The genie snapped his fingers with a bored sigh. “Done. Good luck, champ.”

At first, it was glorious. Terrance’s phone dinged. His bank app went from $3.87 to $1,042,335.72.

He screamed. He danced. He Venmoed a random stranger $12 just because he could. He ordered eight pizzas, six of which he threw out because they “looked judgmental.”

But by day three, things took a turn. Terrance received a letter from the IRS, handwritten in crayon and lightly singed. It simply read: “WHERE DID THIS MONEY COME FROM, TERRY?”

He shrugged it off—what could they do? He had a genie-backed balance.

But then his body started reacting strangely. He gained weight from meals he hadn’t eaten in years. He suffered recurring stomachaches from a Taco Bell binge in 2012. He began waking up with hangovers from drinks he hadn’t consumed since college, including the infamous Flaming Banshee Night.

By week two, he was pelted by karmic echoes of every regrettable purchase he’d ever made. An army of chia pets stormed his living room. The haunted Beanie Baby he bought in ’98 hissed “capitalist pig” in Latin. A 6-foot stack of receipts materialized and cornered him in the shower, demanding he relive each transaction line by line.

Even worse, people from his past began showing up. A barista from 2007 wanted her tip back. A woman he’d ghosted after paying for dinner appeared, holding a menu and muttering, “You owe me appetizers and closure.”

His bank account remained fat, but Terrance was broke in every other sense—emotionally, spiritually, gastrointestinally.

Desperate, he sought out the genie again, only to find him running a kombucha stand in a strip mall.

“You didn’t read the fine print,” the genie said, sipping his own brand called “Soul Rot.” “You got all the money back. But you also got the consequences. Consumption is a ritual. You broke the cycle.”

“Fix it,” Terrance begged. “I’ll wish for anything. Just make it stop.”

“Nope,” said the genie, smiling serenely. “Only one wish per customer. Union rules.”

And with that, the genie vanished in a puff of oat milk vapor.

Terrance now lives under a mountain of refunded guilt, knee-deep in cursed yoga mats and artisanal regret. His bank account remains full, but he spends nothing—terrified that each swipe might unleash another receipt demon or childhood Happy Meal toy with unresolved trauma.

He’s learned a powerful lesson: Sometimes, the cost of getting your money back… is everything you paid to forget.

Does Socialism Stifle Creativity?

One of the oldest, dustiest arguments against socialism and communism is that they supposedly stifle individuality and creativity. No more artists, no more inventors, no more rebels, just gray uniforms, gray buildings, and gray minds.

This idea gets dragged out every time someone suggests workers deserve rights or billionaires shouldn’t exist. But here’s the truth:

This claim is propaganda and it’s tired.

Yes, in some authoritarian regimes that simply called themselves communist (Stalin’s USSR or Mao’s China), artistic and intellectual repression happened. That’s real. But equating all socialism with state authoritarianism is like saying all capitalism is just Enron and child labor in sweatshops.

Authoritarianism stifles creativity. Not socialism.

Let’s flip the script.

Capitalism loves to parade around as the champion of individuality. But unless your creativity makes more money? It’s worthless.

Under capitalism:

If your art doesn’t sell, it doesn’t matter.
If your innovation can’t be patented or monetized, tough luck.
If you’re too exhausted from your soul-crushing job to create? Oh well.

Creativity under capitalism is only celebrated if it turns a profit. Everything else? It gets buried.

Socialism doesn’t kill creativity. It frees it.

Under democratic socialism or libertarian socialism or anarcho-communism, creativity can actually flourish. Why?

Basic needs are met. You’re not working three jobs just to survive. You have time to think and make things.

Your worth isn’t tied to profit. You don’t need your poem to be a product. Your band doesn’t have to blow up on Spotify to matter.

Community matters. Creativity isn’t just for clout, it’s for connection.

Imagine millions of people who are free to paint, code, write, build, and dream — not because it’s marketable, but because it’s meaningful.

Let’s talk about some actual socialists:

George Orwell wrote 1984 and Animal Farm as a democratic socialist.

Albert Camus was anti-authoritarian, anti-capitalist, and deeply creative.

Nina Simone was a radical, a revolutionary, and raw.

Kurt Vonnegut was openly socialist and still endlessly imaginative.

Entire movements — Soviet avant-garde, worker theatre, Cuban film collectives, Indigenous co-ops — were built on socialist principles.

And let’s not forget that Marx and Kropotkin were writing philosophy and science, not just manifestos.

Bottom line: if communism killed creativity, we wouldn’t have all the radical art, music, theory, and rebellion.

If capitalism encouraged creativity, you wouldn’t be drowning in Marvel sequels, AI sludge, and corporate TikToks trying to go viral by pretending to be relatable.

So no. Socialism doesn’t stifle creativity. Capitalism just wants you to believe that so you don’t imagine something better.

Burn It Down

Not with fire and torches. It’s time to accept what we already know deep down: this system is broken beyond repair. No amount of voting, begging, or incremental reform is going to fix the rotting corpse of capitalism. We’re not dealing with a system that needs tweaks. We’re dealing with a system that feeds on exploitation, shits out injustice, and hands us a smiley face sticker for surviving another day under it.

We keep getting told we just need to be patient. That change is slow. That “the adults are in charge.” Meanwhile, the planet’s boiling, wages are stagnant, housing is a scam, billionaires are playing god, and the police still treat poor people like target practice.

How much more do we need to see before we admit this isn’t a glitch … it’s the design?

We don’t need to fix the system. We need to replace it. All of it. The politics, the economy, the structures that define who gets to live with dignity and who gets ground into dust. We’ve spent decades duct-taping injustice and calling it progress. That era’s over. It’s time for a clean break.

We need to start over. From scratch. Build something that works for everyone.

That means no more letting the wealthy write the rules. No more pretending corporations are people. No more parties that pretend to fight each other while feasting at the same donor buffet. No more bootlicking billionaires like they’re gods just because they hoarded enough money to make themselves unaccountable.

Let’s stop asking how we can work within the system. Start asking how we can undermine it. How can we hack it, sabotage it, expose it, and ultimately make it irrelevant.

It’s not radical to want food, housing, healthcare, and freedom. What’s radical is tolerating a system that denies those things in the name of “freedom.” What’s radical is watching the wealthy hoard enough money to end world hunger while telling the rest of us to work harder.

We are not obligated to keep this going. We don’t owe this system our loyalty. The people in power want us to believe we’re powerless without them. But the truth is that they’re nothing without us.

It’s time to organize. To disrupt. To create parallel systems. Mutual aid, worker co-ops, community defense, direct action, cyber sabotage, mass noncompliance — whatever it takes to grind the gears and flip the switch.

Overthrow doesn’t have to look like a revolution with marching bands and guillotines. (Though … you never know.) It can look like refusing to play along. It can look like walking away from the scripts they hand us and writing something new.

This isn’t a call to chaos. It’s a call to clarity. The future is not going to be handed to us — we have to take it.

Tear it down. Start over. Let’s build something worth living in.