Wpis z mikrobloga

You will never be a real proletarian. You have no job, no income, no serious tools to perform said job. You are a metrosexual millenial twisted by leftist propaganda and brainwashing into a crude mockery of working class perfection.

All the support and validation you get is two faced and half hearted. Behing your back proles mock you. Your parents are disgusted and ashamed of you, your "friends" laugh at your ghoulish worldview behind closed doors.

Workers are utterly repulsed by you. Hundreds of years of union activism have allowed workers to sniff out frauds with udarnik efficiency. Even ""proletarians"" who pass look uncanny and unnatural to REAL workers. Your free time and activities is a dead giveaway. Even if you manage to get among workers, they will turn tail and bolt the seconds they get a whiff of your 12000$ FunkoPOP collection.

You will never be productive. You wrench out a fake smile every morning and tell yourself that revolution is soon, but deep inside you feel the retardation creeping up like a weed, ready to crush any last bits of your brain with unbearable weight.

Eventually it'll be too much to bear - you'll buy a rope, tie a noose, put it around your neck and plunge into the proletarian utopia you've always dreamed off. Your parents will find you, heartbroker but relieved that they no longer have to live with the unbearable shame and disappointment. They’ll bury you with a headstone marked with your occupation, and every passerby for the rest of eternity will know an unemployed is buried there. Your body will decay and go back to the dust, and all that will remain of your legacy is a skeleton of unemployed man.

This is your fate. This is what you chose. There is no turning back.
#antykapitalizm
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