More Subsidies Announced For Carbon Capture

The beast demands its pound of flesh, indifferent to whatever label happens to adorn the butcher’s paper. Subsidies—those smiling leeches in bureaucratic drag—are the chosen siphons by which the mindless are bled of their hard-earned coin. The instant a better siphon is found, the beast will swap without ceremony, draping the same old trick in fresh slogans until the carcass gives no more.

Below the gilded tier of true predators, the lesser leeches swarm, stripping the remains with the zeal of locusts—voracious, witless, certain that the banquet will never end. And yet, in their frenzy, they always lay the stones of their own ruin. Unfortunately, their ruin is never tidy; it spills misery down onto the rest of us like rancid runoff.We may nurse the fantasy that nobler spirits will intervene and spare us the feast’s aftermath, but they won’t. They never do. All we can do is take this knowledge and turn it to our own use—coldly, personally, without illusion. Not with the twitchy hoarding of a prepper, but with the precision of an assassin: deliberate, patient, and able to live off the land while waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

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