"THE PROLETERIAT WILL RISE FROM THE ASHES OF THE
MONSTROUS CAPITALIST STATE!" you'll shout into the face of your last
friend as he starts crossing the street a few seconds before you.
"What?" he'll respond, nonplussed. He'll be well conditioned to deal with your
inane bullshit at this point, and his genuine concern for your well being will
drive him to pause, turn, and face you with about a third of his body still in
the street.
"THE NATURE OF REALITY IS SUCH THAT-"
Halfway through your diatribe about commodity valuations and
their perpetual fluctuation, a car will race past your face and into the space
where part of your friend is standing, sending him tumbling into the air. You'll be so shocked by the event that you
will, for a handful of moments, simply stand there, watching your friend's
twitching form, watching the car drive away, watching bystanders rush to your
friend's side. It'll take you until the
EMS people arrive for you to start spouting your insane bullshit about a
philosophical perspective you, at best, just barely comprehend. As they examine your friend, as they load him
into the back of an ambulance, as they drive away, you'll shout at them: hollow
phrases, oft repeated, rarely heard, intended to provoke in them not an
evincing moment of understanding and revelation, but a sudden burst of violence
directed at you, as if you spoke not to prove yourself right, but to prove the
wrongness of all other parties.
Your friend will remain unresponsive throughout the ordeal.
Congratulations Socialist Mouthpiece!
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