"I’m no introvert.
I’m socially selective, too bad all you pieces of shit don’t make the cut."
It’s funny when a Billionaire — narcissistic pedophile while hatching on a private undisclosed island where he rapes and molests minors, underage souls — decides to create stencils, dissecting anatomies, engineers patterns into society through social media content and algorithms pushing misleading content to actualize his sinister end game.
They hate the socially selective or the introvert, who don’t sign up to bleed their funds away on spasmodic small talk or profligate scattering of funds.
In the game of business, I hear every penny ask me: Did you maximize me?
If the answer isn’t yes, and you’re living under the petty big shoe vs small shoe competitions society pressures you into… you’ve not elevated your sense of consciousness, you’re under the gun of social duress.
Mr. Corporation man draws up boundaries with the expansive waves of the seas, on his impenetrable little island, with a “members only” backyard wedding, but if you’re earning a menial salary of a few nickels (that he decides for you through his vulturous tenterhooks called the banks) he wants you to throw a ballroom fiesta like you’re Great Gatsby and kill yourself after you slipped upon the soap water he lathered up on your dance floor.
These frugal psychologically tactical think tanks only look to swell up their big banks, at your little expense. The shelf is assorted by the same corporations selling the same shit everywhere.
The next time you’re going haywire spending money to entertain some fools under the pressure of “social status”, afraid to size up on this thing call “social pressure”, think of a miserly, frugal billionaire in his 30-head count backyard gathering additionally separating you and him with the overlapping waves of the sea.
You pay him a river of funds, with your ostentatious credit card swipes, with all liquor, juice, chicken, ice-cream, raw materials, interests on loans.
Let’s watch you gain distribution of key catchment areas (public hotspots with guaranteed sales), and walk away alive, because these peasant-like frugal thugs subliminally ordering us what to do, have their asses taped to these zones, and are still out there gathering more big data, further developing coercive consumer technology to push sales for their rotten shit that’s omnipresent on the shelf of your nearest supermarket.
The next time these stalkers and thugs, use their psychological advertising gimmicks to shame you into throwing a spread for lousy little milestones of your life (in their lawns, hotels and restaurants)….
Follow the money trail and know that sometime in the future, there’s a miserly billionaire building your tombstone with your own funds, through the viciousness of social pressure and shame. You owe no one anything.
I’ll spend like a King on the people I love.
Let not these Billionaire dogs who are planning to colonize Mars, to evade the poisonous fabric of society they’ve created, dish out labels like “introverts”, “carriers”, “antichrists” and all these titles that pit the masses against each other while they can build their 505th mansion in peace.
With this, I sign off, in solitude and perfect bliss with a smile on my face, missing out on absolutely nothing. Huehue.
