Realizing You Have Nothing in America
What a bleak realization for a man to have, that there’s literally nothing left for him except endless, pointless labor in the New America. It is such a bleak and depressing place for the man who possesses expat eyes, knowing things don’t have to be this way. If only immigrants knew what they were really getting themselves into when they chase the stucco, hollow fantasies American media puts in their minds.
Everything has been ruined by a pervasive, sellout culture. First and foremost to the man with functioning testes and a healthy libido, women have been destroyed and sold out. Sure, a keen-minded man can find a woman to enjoy some sex with. But that’s all she’s good for, because feminism has ruined her for anything else besides slavishly serving The Man at the corporation, blindly chasing that carrot like the ass she is.
Oh, and better be damn careful, because if he knocks the bitch up that’s a nearly 20-year sentence of hard labor on the corporate plantation once she cashes him in at the child support lottery office. Not to mention, odds are she’ll be fat, have a dreadful attitude, and he’ll have to wait in line with 10 other men to see which one is awarded the tryst.
He can chase The American Dream of home ownership, but the truth is he’ll never really own that home. He’ll be renting it from the government with ever-higher property taxes and vivisecting regulation of what he does in and outside of his home by homeowners’ associations. The interest alone will steal most of the fruit of his labor right out of his hands. He can try to amass a fortune, but the truth is 50 to 70 hour weeks for crappy salaries are the new norm. If he’s straight and even worse, white, he’ll be vilified by Human Resources and last in line for promotion. So, home ownership and those “jobs” Americans worship have also been sold out.
To do any better than just getting by he’ll be forced into figurative Hunger Games with other employees, trying to outpace each other to see who can win raises, at jobs where “sudden death” comes in the form of being fired, laid off, or left in a dead-end position. In all likelihood, he’ll end up a used, wrinkled man looking back on an entire lifetime of labor with little to show for it other than a home and some material possessions that don’t really bring him happiness.
Children? Aborted or state-owned. Food? Genetically modified. The media? Full of nonstop propaganda. Politicians? Liars and thieves. Education? Indoctrination, and not enlightenment. Medicine? Endless pills and no cures. Culture? Ersatz and appealing to the lowest common denominator. Time? Every activity is already preplanned and controlled. Conversation? Competitive and limited by political correctness. Freedom? Reduced to sloganeering. Hope? Didn’t you learn anything from 2008.
What is there, except the choice to spin like a rat in the wheel?
The exposure of hopeful narratives in modern American culture as frauds has been touched on in literature in the past, even in the supposed “good old days.” Perhaps these lines from Nathaniel West’s The Day of the Locust sum up the situation in modern America best.
They realize that they’ve been tricked and burn with resentment. They have been cheated and betrayed. They have slaved and saved for nothing.
That literary reference is for those of us who are wise to the game. Mention these themes to your typical, plump, clueless ‘Murican and watch them perform the most amazing mental gymnastics to defend the very people and system that enslave them, as an angry vein pops out in their forehead. “At least we’re not like those other countries!” What buffoons. They’ve obviously never been off their plantation for very long, or lack the imagination to see outside the myopic doxy their masters have placed in front of their eyes like blinders.
Intrinsically fulfilling aspects of life have been purposely divorced from this culture. All that’s left is extrinsic consumption, trying to buy one’s way to happiness.
The bleak feeling of having nothing is what this man feels after he’s been back inside The Matrix for a while. And the feeling of utter desperation to get back out of this hellish paradigm as quickly as possible. He must not get sucked back into the throes of this system again. Everything he ran away from is now refreshed in his mind, and the terror of being saddled with debt slavery again, forced to toil anew motivates him to run like a gazelle, away from the predators in corporations and government who would consume his life again.
It’s time to leave. And soon. The expat’s sanity demands it.
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