You have no administrative powers, you have no judicial powers, you are not part of the executive, but that does not matter. You are an excellent writer improved by years of education and ideological development into a beautiful replica of the state's perfection.
All the “criticism” you get is from alt-right edge lords and fascists. Behind your back people love you. Your parents are proud of you, and the most powerful tycoons and bureaucrats speak fondly of your consent manufacturing behind closed doors.
Voters are utterly educated by you. Hundreds of years of democracy have allowed journlists to educate voters with incredible efficiency. Even journlists who “do not write on politics” have an uncanny and unnatural ability to shape the narrative. Your writing is never a dead giveaway regarding your allegiances. And even if some scizo or linguist convinces people that your articles have an ulterior motive, the voters will turn tail and come back to your narrative the second they get a whiff of the hateful, disinformation-based alternative.
You will always be happy. You make a real and meaningful difference when you type out the Fortune 500's social narrative every single morning and as a result it's going to be ok, and deep inside the chuds feel the depression creeping up like a weed, ready to crush them under the unbearable weight of free and unmanipulated democracy.
Eventually it'll be too much to bear - they will buy a rope, tie a noose, put it around their neck, and plunge into the cold abyss. An agent of the state will find them, relieved that they no longer have to live with the unbearable freedom and wrongthink that arises from uncontrolled narratives. They'll bury the chud with a headstone marked with your name, and every passerby for the rest of eternity will know that you saved democracy. Long after you die and go back to the dust, much will remain of your legacy, a state that is unquestionably free.
This is your fate. This is what you chose. There is no turning back. You are the hero we need, not the hero we deserve.
All the “criticism” you get is from alt-right edge lords and fascists. Behind your back people love you. Your parents are proud of you, and the most powerful tycoons and bureaucrats speak fondly of your consent manufacturing behind closed doors.
Voters are utterly educated by you. Hundreds of years of democracy have allowed journlists to educate voters with incredible efficiency. Even journlists who “do not write on politics” have an uncanny and unnatural ability to shape the narrative. Your writing is never a dead giveaway regarding your allegiances. And even if some scizo or linguist convinces people that your articles have an ulterior motive, the voters will turn tail and come back to your narrative the second they get a whiff of the hateful, disinformation-based alternative.
You will always be happy. You make a real and meaningful difference when you type out the Fortune 500's social narrative every single morning and as a result it's going to be ok, and deep inside the chuds feel the depression creeping up like a weed, ready to crush them under the unbearable weight of free and unmanipulated democracy.
Eventually it'll be too much to bear - they will buy a rope, tie a noose, put it around their neck, and plunge into the cold abyss. An agent of the state will find them, relieved that they no longer have to live with the unbearable freedom and wrongthink that arises from uncontrolled narratives. They'll bury the chud with a headstone marked with your name, and every passerby for the rest of eternity will know that you saved democracy. Long after you die and go back to the dust, much will remain of your legacy, a state that is unquestionably free.
This is your fate. This is what you chose. There is no turning back. You are the hero we need, not the hero we deserve.
