THE FALSE PROPHETS OF LIFE

Right now, my friends, we are still in such a situation that the deliberately manipulable GDP yield per capita - if it still exists at all, and it does - is almost crumbly and barely perceptible in the merciless, brutally busy everyday life. You're only looking for a couple of thousand a month, and a supermodel life partner, who is already very superficial, can still be worn out at any time, has interests, relationships, and circles of acquaintances, or you can be the millionaire who dictates new rules of the game at his whim, and if he so chooses his lucky, hypocritical stardom also raises thrones even on the petty, one-level altars of filthy sensationalist tabloid media for yourself.

The deliberately distorted, almost deformed, distorted compulsion of everyday life for everyone to build their own chestnuts, their cheap, petty castles of cards without ceasing through a fuller life, while in the meaningless trap situation of constantly cheated, deceiving instincts, emotions and desires, just like the Wounded human-wrecked souls, average victims struggle.

It seems that the only measure of deliberate predestination is the pig-headed Lord himself, and money. The intimate loop-voices are already more and more insidiously wrapping their amber tendrils, believed to be indestructible, around the necks, so that those who could only have one sin: they wanted to prosper in this misguided social milieu, could not breathe freely.

And while nowadays success is increasingly a cruel, compromising series of stupid misunderstandings, which were decided from above, they are decided not exactly according to deserved merits; the will, the striving ant's diligence, nowadays remains completely vulnerable to itself!