#SocialistStruggles

The Deep State and the Psychopaths Within: A Tragic Comedy

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So, imagine a guy who destroys roses and, of course, has an uncontrollable urge to touch and share everything other people own—especially if it’s something they want, name it: food, clothes, socks, life, family, etc.

Because, you know, MUST have and it’s MINE is the scary truth of a delusional socialist psychopath.

This, ladies and gents, is how dangerous things can get when reality meets madness!

But our “hero”? Oh no, they can’t fight back.

You see, the city is already taken over by a bunch of people who must’ve graduated from Villain Academy.

They run everything: the markets, schools, publicity, social services, law enforcement, gangs, politics, unions—heck, they even control who gets the last donut at meetings.

They’ve got the whole city wired! Mass media, internet, phones, houses… lives .

In this glorious socialist wonderland, freedom’s just a myth you read about in old comic books.

And forget reporting any of this—everyone’s in on it! Even those roses! If they couldn’t have them, they destroyed them!

Morning rolls around, and here comes our psychopathic anti-hero.

Poisoning people, smiling like it’s his job (because apparently, it is).
“Good morning, Mr. Crazy Spy! Kindly keep your distance from my life!”

Thanks to his “chosen family,” he’s learned the ultimate life philosophy: “My way or no way.”

And by no way, they mean “destroy anything and everything that’s remotely genuine.”

Our boy’s so proud of himself, walking around with his hands in his pockets like he’s posing for the cover of Evil Monthly. “Look, Dad! I’m following the family tradition of ruining lives!”

And let’s not forget Patrick—the sidekick with an unhealthy obsession with sharing dirty, weird videos (don’t ask).

His delusional mind built an empire on what he calls his “dirty cop woman” – “Italian heritage” persona!

Did the Italians know about his delusional “heritage” ?

Patrick’s gang times “THEIR” evil schemes to make sure everyone knows he’s still in the game.

Bless his misguided heart. I mean, it’s like watching a really bad reality show.

But I refuse to let my brokenness become their entertainment.

No matter how tired I am, begging for $2 from a person who just loves to watch me struggle, I won’t give up. I won’t play their dirty, corrupted games of power in dirty cliques and families.

These people are “chosen,” but by whom? Probably Evil itself.

And Patrick’s laugh? Oh, it’s the stuff of horror movies—Evil and Proud, just like him.

But that’s socialism, folks. A system designed to let people like Patrick run wild, easily controlled and proud of their destruction.

Meanwhile, the rest of us are left to be monitored 24/7, robbed of our few pennies, and squished down.

So if you’re into that kind of life, hey, go ahead—vote socialist in November!

They’ve already been “chosen,” and you get to obey.

But not me. Nope. I said NO!

The Alchemy of Souls

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He had no clue what he did today. He saved a soul more than a life, but let the story begin.

Therapy is subjective. When someone is bullied 24/7, targeted constant for years without reason, unable to support their family’s basic needs, and constantly reminded by society that they are unwelcome if they don’t obey, it becomes hard to believe in so-called “socialist therapies.”

Socialist therapies are often seen as abusive, designed to build up the “perfect obedient citizen”—one who doesn’t speak up, doesn’t think independently, just obeys, and pretends to be content with nothing.

Now, picture a person walking between the aisles of a store, engaging in the only therapy that seems to work—shopping therapy—when a strong, overpowering perfume catches their attention. The scent is so intense that it makes them look up and see who could possibly be wearing it.

It’s an amazing aroma of amber, vanilla, fruits, and oud—an Arabian perfume, poured on with abundance. Sweet and exceptional, it’s the kind of scent that hits deep, shaking someone out of a long-standing depression, a condition nurtured by life under an oppressive system.

In a moment, the scent transports them back home, as if waking them up from a dream. It brings life back into their spirit.

The source of this powerful scent? A young man, in his 20thies, talking and walking like a gang member, smelling like one too. But he’s just a kid, no more than 40 kg, with a big smile and far too much perfume.

By chance, the scent resonates. By chance, there’s an appreciation for his style too. He’s not really a gang member. He’s a good young man, lost and left to drift in a system that cares more about the collective than the individual.

The young man is eager to help an elderly lady looking for some biscotti for her homemade tiramisu. With countless “Ma’am, how can I help you?” and “Ma’am, I think I know what you’re looking for,” he does his best, even though he has no clue what she actually looking for, some EUROPEAN biscotti, lol. Because tiramisu is an European desert, young man!

His efforts bring a smile to her face. She finds something charming in his style, his scent, his pants half-down, and his confident walk—a walk that might even make Al Capone envious. The boy wants to be a gangster, but he’s still learning the ropes.

Despite his tough exterior, it’s clear he loves his mother, and perhaps that’s why he’s so good to help. Maybe he never had a mom, or maybe his mom taught him well to respect and assist those older than him. What he didn’t know today was how close he came to saving someone soul.

His perfume transformed the world, and his gangsta style brought light to a dark corner of it.

Around him, it’s easy to smile, laugh, and feel better. His presence is like a satellite orbiting, spreading good energy and reminding people that life is good—just not under socialism, and not with socialist values.

There’s a hope for sunshine, freedom, fresh fruits, and vanilla perfumes. A hope for normalcy, where men are men and women are women, where food is good and unprocessed, and where good souls like this young man, this little “gangsta-in-training”, lol, are appreciated.

But that place isn’t here. Socialism has a way of draining the soul from people.

Yet, somehow, this boy has kept his soul intact, trying to be a little gangsta, smelling of Arabian amber perfume and tobacco.

And in doing so, he saved a soul. Maybe now, that soul can find the strength to move on, to buy that airplane ticket, and fly away from socialism.

Fly AT HOME! Thank you ASCHIUTA!