There are many lessons to be learned. Prizes to be earned, rewards to be burned, swallowed down in deciliters to celebrate the millimeters you’ve moved forward for your returns. Collect your dividends as you pass go, harass those who have less yet you move fast past foes whom you deem irrelevant. In the last throes of life, the knife sticking in your back is your own, the few inches you’ve grown in grace replaced in haste by dollars and properties you inhabit in this outer space alone in your waste.
Without a doubt, never one to talk about purchases without moving in a haste so nervous that the magic beans sprouting from mouths drop worthless to the ground without purpose. The world of dividing and displaying values and brands, net worth and what have you on avenues where less fortunate gather and picket their revenues where they stand. I am a man. An “ism” and an “ist”, but really an extortionist and venture capitalist with a plan to exploit the children and take what he can from the poor rocking the boat of the dutiful and the damned and whoever dares to maneuver through this earth pitifully unplanned.