I have watched and listened to your ranting of late about how to deal with me, and all I do is laugh, laugh and laugh. Beyond pouring out your frustrations on me and my friends and colleagues is the real issue of what really you can do. Now let me respond to you.
You cannot destroy me because I am not really a human; I am a system of control and accumulation. I am not like you, I am not an individual, I am not a needy creature, I am a powerful system of thought and emotional control.
You cannot destroy me because deep down inside of your rotten self, you love your oppressors and you identify with your masters. You cannot touch me, because I am above you, I am a god of capital, of history, of defiance. You try to revolt and you will feel the weight of my military machine fall right on your spine and my policemen will chase you and maim you.
You cannot crush me because I own the army, I own the navy, I own the police force, I own the intelligentsia and the media. I am virtually invincible and indestructible, because I am a disease, a virus, that lingers in your mind and thoughts. I am the dream that you pathetic creatures harbor of being rich and powerful. I am the prototype of everything that is rotten and beautiful about corrupt practices.
You cannot undermine me because I live in your hearts, and deep down your heart, you want to be like me. You admire my Porsche cars, eye my rambling buildings and die to belong to my circle. You cannot understand me because it would be like a lowly human understanding God. I am the lord of your existence and I determine your living. I am the history of money, I am the gorgeous feelings of gold being poured into my very being. I am a member of the “CABAL” and if I want fuel subsidy gone, you must accept it. I am not just one person, I am a system for hoarding your labor and the world’s resources. I am the sick protocol, to control, to usurp, to steal, to destroy all human creativity.
You cannot defeat me, you can protest all that you want against corruption, removal of fuel subsidy or insecurity, but you cannot crush me until you understand me and you never will. I am a machine, I love money so much that I have become money. I love power so much that I have become power, incarnated, incorporated, ready for the slaughter.
Be happy with your life, slave. Be happy with the niceties that I give you, do not start a fight that you cannot finish. Be happy, wage slave, with the cassava bread and a blubbery life of meaningless excess. Be happy with your position, with your caste, be happy with the fact that you’re alive and well entertained by the drama of the government your emotions birthed.
I do not doubt the force of your unity though, but I know it can never crystallize. I and my friends watch you irritate yourselves with the message of tribal hate. Your lack of trust for yourselves isn’t hidden. You still view your fellows from their ethnic origins.
Your religion will not even allow you fight me. I know how to explore that sentiment. Even if your religion allows you, your cowardice will not.
How about your greed? Your greed will be your own undoing. Yes, I am greedy. You call me a criminal in your social media. I haven’t denied this. Yet I know that opportunity makes the thief. If you were in my shoes, would you do less?
I have the contacts. I have the money. I can break you, buy your louder voices and weaken your camp.
But make no mistakes about it, if you get so strong as to come after me, and if I see your chances of succeeding; certainly, I will run for my life. Even if the borders are closed, I can still buy the loyalty of its keepers. I can buy the protection of your police. I can buy my way through. I won’t sit and watch you kill me. I will run.
I don’t see much danger emanating from you. But if it does, well, I’ll see how to get over it.
But before then, keep grumbling.
From the man you admire,
The corrupt Billionaire-politician
courtesy: Olusegun Dada