The Dream Came True

It's so fun bein independent-minded. I don't take anyone's shit on face value, least of all my own. If you believe something then fuckin just do it. The world doesn't need any more preachers. Jesus Fuck. He woulda had a hard time bein heard over all the competing voices had He lived in our day. What if Jesus came back as an influencer? Would you follow that shit?

I'ma look at a screen for 12 hours today, just like I did yesterday and the day before that. It's another day at the glittering coal face. Me and millions of other Millennials sit in the pale light of an LED screen, squinting to try to see the gold in the code, imaged and pixelated to help us sift through. 

We're panning for gold as well as digging coal and our fingers and eyes move quickly. The rest of our body's atrophied in the chair. A hundred million, ten hundred million souls sacrificed on the altar of progress. Tomorrow the same thing.

And when will Progress ever turn and thank its key workers? All the drones and soldiers and workers grafting themselves to the bone to keep the hive-colony going. As soon as they fall they're mixed into the walls to strengthen the structure and another worker bee is wheeled in and plugged into the Machine.

We're a ruthless bunch of Progressionists. It's nothing personal, we tell ourselves as we murder our mothers. You see, everything is cause and effect, ebb and flow, up and down, in and out, boom and bust, whatever metaphor it takes to appreciate Progress doesn't give a fuck about your feelings so just shut the fuck up and get back to work.

So what's the big trade-off? What does a worker bee get for worker-beeing itself to death? Paradise on Earth? How about the ability to buy whatever you want whenever you want? Does that sound like something you might be interested in? If yes, then we're very much in business, my friend. If no, then move along motherfucker, can't you see there's people behind you?

I love how much respect we're treated with nowadays as consumers. I feel like James Bond every time I fly Cunt Air with a thousand other cunts all steaming and sweating in cheap plastic seats. I feel like Marilyn Monroe every time I take another hot plastic bag from another hot plastic Deliveroo driver. It's so romantic eating lukewarm curry outta smeared styrofoam trays. I'm fuckin Frankie, Sammy, and all the Rat-Pack-In-One as I lose my shit at the self-checkout machine, crying in embarrassed rage and the 16-year-old in a blue and orange uniform's just looking at me and smirking.

Oh yeah, the Dream definitely came true for this little capitalist shmuck. I have clean water, hot food, and a roof over my head protecting me from predatory cats. What more could I possibly want?