I received a strange reaction when I wrote that to cause a war between poor people it is enough to discriminate differently people, and from what I have read on some form of commentators, it seems to me that this mechanism is not clear. That is, it seems that the modern slave is not able to understand with which tools he is kept as a slave.
So I'm going to examine the stratification of slavery tools. Imagine that I am an "elite", and that you eat Kobe beef at lunch while two topless Geishas make me look with a plume.
- First layer: we diversify discrimination.
You slaves, say two, sit in front of me, and you have the usual ration made up of two industrial sausages and a hundred grams of raw bread.
If the situation continues in this way, sooner or later you two will notice the difference and you will rebel against me, to have a fairer treatment. First of all, therefore, I have to convince you to fight among you instead of attacking me.
I will therefore do one thing: to one of you two, I will give three sausages, removing one from the other, while the other will give one hundred and fifty grams of bread, raising his ration, at the expense of the other who will see his drop.
Now we have two different treatments: without changing the overall balance, one of you has three sausages but only fifty grams of bread, while the other has a good fifty grams of bread, but only one sausage.
What will happen in your minds? Those who have had three sausages will immediately satisfy their ego, convincing themselves they deserve it: "I do a heavier job, it is clear that I need more fat and protein", you will say. The other will say "my work is more intellectual, so I need carbohydrates for the brain: I deserve the bread".
Once the right is acquired , each of you will notice that the other one, however, has a privilege : even the intellectual would like to have more sausages, after all, while even the laborer would like more bread. Then you will start looking at each other.
Why are you glaring at each other but you won't attack me? For two reasons. The first is that it is easier to compare oneself with one's fellow man than to confront someone completely different. To confront a similar one, a modest effort is enough: if you both eat bread and sausage it is easy to assess the difference in treatment, while there is no clear reason why Kobe beef is prized. Most of you don't even know it exists.
The second reason is that you are sitting side by side while I am on the other side of the table: this short distance makes it easier to punch you. Since you will make the cheapest choice in terms of effort, then by discriminating in different ways you will begin to slaughter each other.
This happens, as I wrote in previous posts, when feminists cringe attack the MRA cringe, when the American negro attacks the American white trash, when the Italian attacks the immigrant, or when one European country attacks another.
But there are also many more layers.
2. Second layer: we increase the distances.
As much as I have pushed you to fight among you, there is always the possibility that one of you is a leader. If one of you is a leader, you can always lead the other to watch me eating Kobe beef, and explain to you that the differences between the two of you are small, all things considered, compared to the difference that passes with my lunch.
The thing I can do then is to eat at another table, even better if I eat in a different canteen. In this way I magnify the difference between you two, but I remove the difference between you two and me from the horizon .
It is a practice born around the 90s: if you first knew everything about the lawyer who wore the watch over the cuff, today you know almost nothing about your leaders. Sometimes you see photos here and there, but Zuckerberg is photographed only in a gray t-shirt, and Bill Gates only with a silly sweater. The luxury that surrounds them is no longer shown to you.
Of course, sometimes you are told how much they earn, but it's not the same thing. Numbers are abstract entities, and have one characteristic: only small ones are perceived. If I tell you "a dead man", you can all imagine it. If I say "ten dead", maybe I have to help you with a picture. If I say to you "ten million deaths", even the photos are not enough, because actually looking at ten million corpses would cost days.
The same goes for money: if I tell you that guy earns a hundred euros more than you, the concept is clear to you. If I tell you that he earns ten thousand more than you, it's still clear, but it's fading. If I tell you that Bezos earns BILLION more than you, you can't imagine it, because you've never seen similar figures in real life.
Ultimately, around the 1980s, a "democratization" of the ruling classes arrived, which began to appear in public less and less, showing off their wealth less and less, appearing in modest clothes and with common cars in the few personal appearances, and etc.
In practice, they have allowed you to believe that you are better dressed than they are.
Since I don't sit in front of you eating my topless geisha caked Kobe beef, and the only time I show up to eat I'm eating a sandwich fast, you think in the end it'll be, I'll be also a manager, but do you want to put you with your succulent sausages? If I don't show you how REALLY I live, you will come to think of living better than me.
You will come to think that after all even Jeff Bezos is like you, because his wife is plucking him with food. And you will come to think that yes, Zuckerberg dresses you worse than you, with his t-shirt. And you'll really get drunk, because you only have those images and those movies, and you don't see the princely luxury in which Bezos and Zuckerberg live.
I allowed you to think that your industrial sausages and your raw bread are better than what I eat.
3. Layer number three: the actors arrive.
But there is still a danger. Someone could reveal the fiction. I eat in a different room and I only see myself with the sandwich in my hand, but my butcher could miss the fact that I only buy Kobe beef from € 3,500 per kilo from him. (And half I give it to the cat.) And the geishas, which I change constantly because I get used to the hair easily, could tell what really happens in my luxury residences: that my Jacuzzi is not washed, but licked with devotion from a team of nymphomaniac top models.
So I need to make you believe that you know how the rich live, but you have to think that the rich are others . And to do this nothing works better than an actor. Then I pay for the actors, say Angelina Jolie and Brad Pitt, to make the rich on stage. Their whole life will be filmed (since it is a show) and they will be given to you in full, so that in the gossip newspapers where they talk about life as a rich man there are them, but not me.
And then we write the narrative of Angelina Jolie who marries Brad Pitt, and they have many children (but since nothing is true then we will use extras and say that they are adopted children), and then divorce, and so you look at the life of QUEI rich-famous, but don't look at the life of the rich-powerful anymore.
So I don't sit at the table with you anymore and I show myself with a sandwich, and in addition I run one of my housekeepers around the cafeteria, half-naked and covered with cheap jewels, I ask her to talk to everyone about the his holidays in Formentera and I put FOUR sausages in my plate.
And here you have a privileged one in front of you. And I also start to complain that in Formentera I can't go because I don't have time, and I eat a sandwich while she has four sausages, and that because of taxes my employees are better than me.
Now you two are glaring at your "privileges", you feel lucky to me because you really believe that I ALWAYS eat a sandwich in a hurry and ALWAYS dress me with the same turtleneck sweater (at Jobs) or with the same gray t-shirt (Alla Zuckerberg), and you hate the actress I pay for being a bourgeois whore. Even solidarized with me, I am reduced to sandwich and t-shirt and I never have time because stress kills me, against that whore who goes to Formentera to get fucked and has four sausages on her plate, and she's covered in costume jewelry . The bitch.
But not only: I make the actress play the part of the one that has the same problems that you have. And then at Jolie we make a nice amputation of the breast, a divorce with the family that falls apart, and let's put Jonny Depp too that his wife leads him and has alcohol problems, which basically "even the rich are crying". In short, the pretended mistress-actress one day arrives at the office with her hair shaved and a very slim-fit turban, and everyone thinks of the illness-which-is-not-must-name. She too, in the end … come on, feeling lucky, isn't it? You're lucky, eat your shit sausage and thank me for all that hateful luxury that I save you.
Look at what problems they have!
4. Layer four: layering.
But there is still a problem. Because even the actresses will be fired sooner or later, sooner or later you might get the impression that … in the end … we can even turn around, but what's better is me. And this is bad.
Why don't you see it, you don't know what to accuse me of precisely, but sooner or later you will begin to suspect that yes, Angelina Jolie will also have removed her breast and ovaries, but if they do it to you you are yellowish skeletons that run with turban and dark circles, while she had a whole team of psychologists and endocrinologists to keep her beautiful and make her feel confident. And you will begin to notice that when you remove her breasts and ovaries, she is still very courteous, while if they do to you, even the maniac of public toilets is not buggered.
And even when you are a man, you can also think that Jeff Bezos has been plucked by his ex-wife just like you, who fell into the trap of photos on a cell phone like any other teenager, but a little voice might even point out to you that without thirty-six billion Bezos he is still a billionaire and his shoes are polished by a pornodiva who simulates an orgasm while touching them, while if you turn around … when you have finished paying you are to sleep in the car and eat at Caritas.
So, and this happened especially after 2010, I have to convince you of one thing: I have to convince you that you are living IN THE BEST OF WAYS. So much so that in the end Zuckerberg, Bezos and Bill Gates (but also Brad Pitt and Jonny depp and Angelina Jolie), after all, dream of being you and eating your poor sausages and your proletarian bread. To have your life simple but all in all privileged.
And to do this, I have to bring you to OVERALL the sausages and bread you eat every day.
It does not take much. Tomorrow I will hire chef-actors who go on TV acting like sergeants in the marines, and you will discover that you are not eating simple sausages made with dioxin-based meat waste. No.
Those are IGP sausages. DOC. DOCG. And to do it you need the training of a shaolin monk, being as bad as a marines and having studied as a scientist just to get the right bridging of dioxin, which must be rigorously fresh, of the day. On the contrary, they will also invite the “Confraternity of brazilian dioxin of Solgenzo sul Branzo”, which will look at your shit sausage with a severe air and decide if it is WORTHY of the MILLENARY tradition of your valley.
We will fill you with useless technicalities on sausages and bread, to the point of making you believe you are eating a Michelangelo's masterpiece, a piece of ancient history that nobody but you can boast. We will explain to you how difficult it is to get a bad sausage in the right way, traditional and precise in which your poor, but very cheap, cheap sausage must be bad. Then I will take some champagne, I will give it to my goat, and when pissing I will fill a bottle and give it to you to drink called "Prosecco". And you will be convinced to drink the best of the best.
Stuff that Bill Gates dreams of, the dioxin sausage of your Campania, which the whole world envies you. You are fine, not Bezos with his Kobe beef served by Miss Legalporno.com DAP 2020 winner.
And then they will set them to you, explaining to you that the sausages MUST be in odd numbers for a good adiabatic and sclerotherapy, so if one of you eats only one and the other eats three it's just a matter of being Solgenzo on the Branzo OF BELOW, or of Solgenzo on the Branzo DI SOPRA, but due to the right temperature necessary for the dioxin to make itself cured in the quantum vacuum, they CANNOT be in different numbers.
By eating three sausages, or one, you are experiencing the true, unique and precious "sausage experience" that only an expert connoisseur knows (for the mere fact / privilege of being born where you were born), and that only a refined sybarite can 'to grasp in its totality aesthetic.
And your house is not an apartment in a chicken coop in a polluted city: it is a "noble building" in "first suburb", "already in the green" but "convenient with the means". And let's not forget the "fine finishes"! Live better than Tim Cook, at the very least! You do not have a primitive, crude and brutal truck that is difficult to park, you have an SUV with which you are "ready for new adventures". Zuckerberg, puppa here!
At the end of this dish, you will be seated at the usual table, eating the same sausages as always, but they are well served. The table is signed by Giugiaro and is in Ghisa Soffritta by Katzuro Inkulawa, a great Japanese designer. But not only that: those sausages are not "sausages": to do them you need the training of a shaolin monk, to be as bad as a marines and to have studied as a scientist only to get the right brasoleatuzzazione of dioxin, which must be strictly fresh, of day. That the whole world envies you ( ).
And at the end of this stratification you know what happens? What good are you in your shitty life, because:
- First of all, your IGP DOC sausages with traditional fresh dioxin are better than my Kobe beef. Which (let's say it treacherously as if we were meat experts) is very overrated.
- If it were that eating Kobe beef while two topless lesbian geishas to entertain me has its advantages, let's not forget that I wear t-shirts and you saw me eating a poor sandwich because I didn't have all the free time you have. . You are the lucky ones.
- But even if eating a sandwich and putting on a t-shirt was worth it in exchange for the rest of the luxurious life I do, in any case the story of Angelina and Brad, it clearly shows you that I also have my problems, and in the end by , you are fine like this. And I have to pay 36 billion if my wife divorces, not like you lucky ones who end up at the caritas if they tell you to pay them € 1500 a month.
- In an extreme effort, even admitting that I am much better off than you and the urban legends on my cake-based birthday decorated with BDSM orgy were true, in any case that bastard near you has three sausages, and you only one. Privileged with shit because he is a man.
These are the strategies that are keeping you good at making the shitty life you do.
And the reason they work is simple.
YOU LIKE THEM. Because basically, you tell yourself the same thing every day: that you wouldn't change place with me. That you are well, that you are "wealthy", that in the end the fact of being born where you were born and that you eat what you eat rewards you for not being Bill Gates.
In short, you two slaves are convinced that you wouldn't want to be in my place.
And because every revolt requires that someone take me from my privileged place, to sit on it, I as an elite can sleep peacefully on two pillows made with Milena Velba's tits.
So much, you are better than me, or rather: I have convinced you that it is so. And even if you realize that you are sick, the fault must be of the slave near you, who has three sausages. The guy who eats kobe beef in the lounge has nothing to do with it: that's worse than you.
And if it seems excessive, remember that you have come to feel indignant at the too many taxes that entrepreneurs pay. Poor things.