A Fortunate Prophecy for the Ill and Poor

The mach tuck that the plutocratic empire of America has undergone in individual wealth, values, and understanding, conjures many French emotions. None quite like the phrase sacrebleu.

I am writing in a time where your shinplasters will not save your affluence that is tracked, traced, and co-ordinated on errant platforms, some with codes of ethics and some with a faculty copied from the last Mars Rover mission. The world’s rhinoplasty cannot be gaffer taped.

I write consciously as third world countries struggle to source non-ferrous metals, cars drive off bridges, a robot can shake your hand, and perversion is as commonplace as the lightbulbs used to illuminate it. I write with salt on my tongue and ire in my eyes as my money goes up and down, every minute. It is not just for me and now, but for everybody and soon will this be the case.

Day-to-day eyes will be pinned to screens that will be the last living notification of wealth before one passes, in this generation. Day-to-day eyes will leer as the worth decreases, with not a responsibility to take, only an ownership of what has been unfathomably bestowed.

The fortunate vendetta is that with the turn of the next arc, capitalism will prosper; it will soon hold our grins and soon our eyes will fall. Us of the Americas and European Kingdoms will be given access to an excess, an exorbitance, that soon will only exist in numbers, photographs, and the lascivious tendence of fleabags and barflies alike.

The financial forecast will arrive like summer weather, rarely with disappointment, and barely with a realisation of each High-Income Country’s deficit.

We will walk with blindfolds and one finger to our lips, as aliens in now a very forgiving town that does not tolerate violence. A town that was once a country, will soon become a neighbourhood.

In 10 years after the next two or three, they will reset our primary currencies, if they can.

Folks, we are amid a transition with many wicked faces. Waking up from living in the economic bivouac will make you feel grateful that the sun is yellow ochre, such that we will so clearly see who has blood on their hands.

The infinite nature of non-volatile storage methods allows for the endless mind to meet a ubiquitous satisfaction; we just made a mistake giving that to the banks and cryptographically inclined individuals. We have, once again, uncovered a black hole the size of the year 1984. One thing for certain, there will be no rest for intifada, only the fight will be invisible in the winter breeze. If a jihadist named Adis splits an intersection trying to cause a fatal crash, it will have been on purpose, and he will not have been trying to reach God. Soon come, God lives on land.

Subversion is more terrifying than the aversity of the instated forces. Those without week-long meetings can concoct a mighty venom from a very small engaged bathroom, those with a computer screen can very feasibly control a nation.

Death by sugar, love by sweets. When the cat bites my tail, I say ouch.

Photo by at infinity on Unsplash

FOOTNOTE

Please consult the world’s 40th richest man of January 2018 if you are interested in how Africa will cope.

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