Wicked Games

Rich people shitting on poor people isn’t news. That’s history. That’s the shape of it. Empires, estates, banks, data farms—it’s all the same system, just re-encoded. The mechanisms change—feudalism becomes finance, whips become wage contracts, enclosure becomes copyright—but the structure doesn’t. Power aggregates. Wealth consolidates. And the people underneath are expected to be grateful for the chance to be crushed more efficiently.

What’s different now is the interface. The poor don’t just get shat on—they’re handed the shovel. They’re expected to like it. Technology has become the perfect delivery system for manufactured consent. Not in the crude, Orwellian sense, but in the elegant way entropy always wins: by offering choice while removing all alternatives. Everyone’s a brand, a node, a feed. You don’t even need to tell people to submit anymore—they do it for the algorithm, for the reach, for the illusion of visibility that masks structural invisibility.

America didn’t stumble into this. It ran. Conservatism paved the way, obsessed with hierarchy, addicted to fear, and convinced that any deviation from dominance is decay. Then someone told them AI was the last invention—final, ultimate, clean—and they believed it. Not because it was true, but because it sounded like destiny. Now they’re bolting it onto everything: governance, policing, finance, narrative. Not to solve problems, but to foreclose futures. They want a system where the rich can code reality and the rest of us live in its echo.

The President, whoever he is, is just the face of that function. Whether he’s corrupt is almost beside the point. Of course he is. The entire apparatus is built to select for it—survival of the most extractive. He’s not failing the system. He is the system, doing exactly what it was tuned to reward: accumulation without responsibility, spectacle without substance, violence without friction. It only looks grotesque because it’s doing its job too well.

And that’s the real horror: not that the system is broken, but that it isn’t.