Letter to a Tyrant

I won’t bother to reason with you or appeal to your compassion—because you have none.

You are a foul, fetid, festering, fiendish, fear-fomenting fecker devoid of soul, purpose, and meaning. No matter how many lives you masticate, hearts you shred, minds you menticide, and puppet strings you try to throttle us with, you will forever remain a hollow husk of a simulated human.

I know you envy us our feelings. You seethe with rage, jealousy, loathing, terror, disgust, and every other malevolent emotion, but you are incapable of comprehending love, joy, friendship, warmth, and abiding peace.

This letter isn’t to beg or plead or ask you to stop. This letter is to put you on notice. This letter is to tell you the people are waking, and it is you who have shaken us awake. You have sown the seeds of your own obliteration, and those seeds are germinating.

None of your efforts to enshroud the suncontaminate the soilbefoul the waterdefile the oceanstoxify the airautodarwinate seedssequester the food supplyextinguish species, or commodify the ecosystem can stop those seeds from bursting through the earth and winding their tendrils around your Nuremberged neck.

In a way, we should thank you. You have shown your hand so recklessly because you were certain we would roll over. So confident were you in the psychological conditioning you subjected us to—following Biderman’s Chart of Coercion like a recipe—you expected us to jump in the pot voluntarily.

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