Green Card

Some time ago, I met some entities that ate the poor, these beings were not sure if their tastes were due to old absences or to their progressive and refined palate, to their hunger for equality, or to their indigestion of inclusion, but, what is certain, is that they enjoyed feasting on those with marked economic deficiencies and something more. Their favorite fetish, they called it, "the base of the pyramid", this concept, they saw as a space they claimed to eradicate but simultaneously fattened, a kind of Stockholm syndrome combined with self-fulfilling prophecy, a constant noise, fighting in vain against the most hollow greed I have ever had the opportunity to observe. This would seem to be a problematic context in which to cultivate joy, but, the permanent state of intoxication from doing good without looking at whom to apply the last-minute discounts, blurred the lines between slavery and the problem of making it to the end of the month. Therefore, they felt brilliant, they perceived themselves as imposing, diamond gods illuminating cardboard towns. These creatures, furthermore, shat goodness, the more indigence they swallowed, the more goodness they defecated, and that shit, disguised as altruism, they distributed at the modest price of masturbations and boasts in closed circles with fat bureaucrats and self-indulgent millionaires. At the head of the parade, there marched the most extravagant soul I have ever had the experience of knowing, the authentic control point for defining the vocation of messiah, a soldier of mystery, a being so noble he felt fascistically drawn to the left, a chronic grotesque holding the title of "CEO of Impact", and with a retinue of followers addicted to mental onanism and homicide, a gang of shits, smelling of plastic novelty. I had never seen such passion for squandering other people's money for the benefit of no one. I had never experienced how, just to feel a little less guilty for their violence and degeneracies, other beings of equal light and benevolence deposited their coins in the machinery of erasing guilt and justifying philias. They knew it would all be lost in the void, but that was the cost of saving themselves from hell. I didn't understand it at the time, but they helped me decipher that the criteria by which joys and sorrows are defined are, by a wide margin, the greatest lies of modern humanity and of humanity's modernity. There are stories that claim Satan lives among the Moors, but, the truth, backed by facts and accounts, is that, after the journeys and dances shared with these entities of controversial light, I can assure you that the devil has a green card.