Imagine this: a guy stands on a soapbox, veins popping, shouting about freedom. Freedom! The word spills from his lips like cheap whiskey, sticky and shallow. He waves his hands, talks big about "censorship resistance," how it's the backbone of their precious system. A system for the people, by the people. A revolution, he says. A liberation.

But here's the rub: the moment someone whispers a dissent, a question, or—God forbid—a criticism, this same guy’s pulling strings in the shadows, tightening screws, closing mouths. He’s calling it "protection" or "integrity" or some other nonsense word he doesn’t even believe in. He's got a playbook for silencing, a toolkit for erasing, and the gall to still pretend he’s the torchbearer for truth.

It’s not irony. Irony’s too poetic, too neat. This is just plain hypocrisy. Ugly, raw, and shameless. A man so terrified of losing control that he smothers the very thing he claims to champion. They wrap it up in excuses, like a rat gnawing on its tail, pretending it’s progress. But everyone sees it. The desperation. The lie. And the system? It’s just a reflection of the guy himself. Fragile, corrupt, and terrified of a little light.

S. Tominaga AKA CSW
Nov 27, 2024
https://x.com/CsTominaga/status/1861754767950942233?t=T_FoePo_auNGIhA718Up7A&s=19

https://t.me/S_Tominaga/2168