IV - long live the oligarchy

“America is Dead! Long live the oligarchy!”

Oh, I can already hear the chorus of outraged patriots clutching their flags and gasping for air, wondering how on earth I have the audacity to say it out loud. But let’s be honest here—America died a very public, very embarrassing death, and we all watched it happen. It was sentenced to death at 1 AM on November 5th, 2024, beheaded at noon on January 20th, 2025, and, in a spectacle fitting for the end of a grand empire, the victors danced around its lifeless corpse on January 21st, mocking it in perfect synchrony.

Now, before you start shaking your head at the “insanity” or “cynicism” of that statement, take a nice, long look around. Everything we once believed in—democracy, freedom, the pursuit of happiness—has been carted off to the highest bidder. Billionaires decided that profit was worth more than human life, and somehow, the rest of us naïve peasants stood around and let them do it. Isn’t that just adorable?

I’ll spare you the poetic eulogies and patriotic tears because, quite frankly, they’re wasted on a corpse that’s no longer even warm. The world we cared for, the world we tried to save for our children, has been neatly packaged and sold off to the oligarchs who’ve gleefully hung a “Welcome to our Empire” banner on the front door. We’re living in a reality where democracy is now a quaint idea you might reminisce about in your next social media post—assuming you haven’t already had your account banned for daring to be “disruptive.”

But don’t worry, it’s not just America that got the axe; the entire world’s on this same unsteady track. Everywhere you look, the crumbling veneer of “for the people” has chipped away, revealing the real puppet masters tugging at our strings. They exploit our hopes, our fears, our addictions—whatever it takes to keep us clicking, swiping, and spending, until we’re all too exhausted to care.

And the best part? When we finally figure out that the people no longer hold the power—that we’re essentially serfs in a digital feudal system—maybe then we’ll realize there’s no profit when there are no longer people. Imagine that: you spend all this time building an empire, only to discover your empire is worthless without the very consumers you’ve systematically drained of resources.

So here we are, rummaging through the ruins of a once-idealized nation, a once-idealized world, trying to piece together some shred of dignity. Frankly, it’s laughable—if it weren’t so tragic. Our leaders have effectively sold our future for pocket change, and we’re left with rigged systems and hollow speeches. It’s as though we’re the star attraction in an absurd play where the final act is a funeral dirge for the idea of freedom itself.

But please, don’t get sentimental. There’s no room for nostalgia when the victors are busy dancing on the corpse, flinging confetti made of shredded constitutions and worthless promises. They’re having a grand old time, and who can blame them? They got exactly what they wanted: unchecked power, obscene wealth, and a global stage to flaunt it on.

In a world that has been murdered for profit, I suppose the only solace we can take is that maybe, just maybe, when everything collapses, the oligarchs won’t have anyone left to exploit. But hey, I wouldn’t hold my breath waiting for that day to come—these folks are terrifyingly resourceful when it comes to sustaining their blood-sucking empires.

So, rest in pieces, America. I’m sure the oligarchs will give you a lovely eulogy at your unceremonious funeral—if they can pause their celebratory jig long enough to deliver it. As for the rest of us? Well, we’ll be here, wondering what could have been, had we not welcomed the power-hungry elite with open arms. Maybe in the next world, we’ll do better. Or maybe we’ll just dance along, too. Who knows? After all, it’s much easier to join the mocking victors than to stand against them.