Leaving Dogville

A Farewell Message to the Mainstream in a Molotov Cocktail

Disclaimer: There are public figures involved in the situation I’m describing below. None of them are people I’ve been associated with publicly, and I won’t mention any names, so please don’t bother asking, whether in comment sections, DMs or in person. The people involved should be aware of this by now, but in case they aren’t, their names will only be protected as long as they cease all transgressions.

I've been the target of a gang-stalking campaign for the past five years or so. Someone I know invited a lot of popular artists to be involved in a type of project, without my knowledge or consent, probably via Discord, and from what I can gather, the initial idea was to send me messages through songs and albums, like a secret fan club showing me love and encouragement from a distance.

Back when I believed their motives were genuine, to say I was grateful is an understatement. It felt like nothing short of being serenaded by angels, but looks can be deceiving, and what appears as light can sometimes be quite the opposite. The love and gratitude I have for those works will always be preserved in music and art, and I believe there's at least a handful of artists within the group whose intentions remain good and whose work is sincere, for whom I have nothing but love and gratitude. For the sake of this writing, I'm not going to make that caveat repeatedly. I'm writing this to address real devils in a room of mixed company, and I believe that the angels in that room also suffer at the hands of those devils, so hopefully they'll appreciate me speaking out. Regardless of how good, bad or ugly anyone's intentions were at the start of it, they've paved a road to an incredibly abusive and exploitative situation, which continues to this day, and I can no longer remain silent.

This project was exclusionary by design; the criteria for initiation into the group seems to be a high degree of popularity, so by contrast, a line was drawn around an outsider. This created a power dynamic which either corrupted many of its participants or it revealed a predatory and sadistic nature that had otherwise been airbrushed away. What began with a couple of artists showing me love a few years back has spiraled into ostracizing, subjugation, exploitation, gaslighting, manipulation, lies, threats of violence (including death threats), my devices and accounts being hacked regularly, my Instagram businesses being hacked and subsequently shadow-banned, attempts at having my music demonetized or taken down, video content being muted or taken down, and a relentless dangling and subsequent retracting of carrots (songs and albums in most cases), for whose withholding I'm blamed, even though I'm unaware of these "favors" until they're withheld. I've been repeatedly guilt-tripped for ruining their plans, just by making my art and living my life authentically. If their intention is to encourage me in my art and in my life, their actions speak to the opposite.

The notion that I've messed up their plans is one that's been repeated at least a few times, and this alone exposes their insincerity: it's less about showing me love and more about their plans and what they can extract from this gang-stalk. To this day, after at least 5 years of this ongoing project, I remain unaware of exactly what this case study is, and still it's hung over my head like I'm somehow responsible for the chaos it's caused on their end, not to mention the harm it's caused their "patient", which had at times bordered on psychological torture. I'm blamed and shamed for taking what they perceive as wrong turns in a maze that only really exists in their own Munchhausen-by-proxy matrix, and when my choices don't align with their skewed assumptions, they treat my life like their failed experiment.

The reason I feel safe to tell this story now is because it no longer affects me like it did a year or two ago. I'm OK, and I'm not writing this out of vengeance but to shed light on the dark side of a predatory industry and how it relates to a greater evil in our world. Art is something channeled from a greater source, and when you're channeling it, you know in every fiber of your being that you have to see it through and release it to the world, because that's your responsibility to the world. When you're exploiting your gifts to construe carrots that you dangle like an emperor's thumb – a "yay" or "nay" based on the conditions of your gladiator's "good" behavior – that's not art. That's manipulation and control – the same tools which had been wielded against them, which wrought their own compliance – and that's the point. What this project has taught me about human nature is the same conclusion of the Stanford Experiment, and that is: when you give a group of individuals an advantage over another, whether over another individual or another group, that this power dynamic will always lead to corruption and malevolence, and this is why I'm even more compelled to share my story, because the parallels I see in our world are undeniable. It's the same story as that of patriarchal violence, of white supremacy, of class struggle, and of every colonial enterprise that's ever existed.

Each of these parallels plays a role in this situation, but class struggle plays an integral one, as it's the key distinction between myself, an artist living in poverty, and the most antagonistic members of the group, many of whom are rich and famous. There's almost a direct correlation between members' wealth and the degree of their antagonism (save for a few). Why are the wealthiest members so threatened by me? They knew I was anti-capitalist for as long as they’ve been following me, which has been at least since my project “Wolfen”, which was explicitly anti-capitalist. I believe it was Wolfen which drew many of them to me, and which also caused them to push back against the ideas expressed in that work, especially its critique of capitalism. Their pushback came in ways that looked like advice at a first glance, but shortly thereafter, the lines were blurred as to who really needed guidance and who was actually benefiting from their project. It proved to be quite advantageous for an elite 1% of artists who had fallen out of touch with the struggle of the 99% to have an artist in the heart of that struggle lay out his mood boards like a bridge to a culture they could no longer relate to. They were drawn to Wolfen’s aesthetic but threatened by its implications: who could they peddle their trickle-down-turned-meritocracy Kool-Aid to if all artists were freed by a Universal Basic Income? You can't extract as much from artists when we're united laterally. There are no goats when we're all the flock. Having the space and time outside of survival mode might render the need to "look up" to idols obsolete, and you can't put gates around what lives inside of us. So like agents of the matrix guarding those imaginary borders, they pushed back vehemently against that idea with whatever weapon they could, from ad hominem attacks and slander, to lectures on Reaganomics disguised as culture – shaming me for "wanting a hand-out" – yet when I said I'd keep making work regardless of financial gain, referencing Joni Mitchell's song "For Free", they saw my extended hand as an opportunity for free creative direction.

Four years later, I believe we need a UBI more than ever, and I think the best place to start implementing one is with artists. Capitalism has brought art to the point where bananas taped to a wall are bringing in millions, the “high art” world is a closed-circuit, Emperor's New Clothes circle-jerk tax loophole for some of the most corrupt and evil enterprises on the planet, and robots are stealing musicians’ lifelong labor and legacy, and thereby bringing in billions to a thief deemed “hard-working” by capitalism’s own fallacy, who converts that theft into machines designed to extinguish life… for more profit… on a burning planet. But “socialism doesn’t work”. Huh. What’s really left to defend in a capitalist system, based on the art world alone?

A counter-culture needs to be supported in our society if we want to have healthy dialogue within the culture beyond popular culture. Appealing to the mainstream is one particular metric, but there is inherent value in every kind of work. Counter-culture won’t be rewarded by the system it holds a critical mirror to, and on the flip side, the mainstream won’t stray far enough outside of the boundaries of what is allowed into popular discourse for fear of losing mass appeal. This is how the mainstream has failed us since at least 2020; that numbers game and popularity contest is unable to address the challenges we’re facing. In a perpetual rush to innocence that’s more akin to a snake devouring its own tail, they insist that they’re spreading love and high vibes only, but those vibes don’t address the violence required to hold them up, and more often than not, they serve not only as a distraction from the crises we’re facing globally but as a tool to propagate the systems that are fueling those crises. Under our current political and economic models, it’s only really possible to survive as a full-time artist if you’re ingratiating that system to some degree. Mainstream culture will sell you the idea that demand is what determines a work's value while conveniently leaving out how much their market is influenced, controlled and manipulated by the same beneficiaries of that extraction model, including a 1% of artists themselves, who have, in some cases, resorted to violently suppressing their competition, all the while proclaiming their value in a "free market" (think: Meta vs. TikTok). The gatekeepers never left the building, they just got better at hiding within a digital infrastructure, and even where they have left, there's a hangover of that prescribed culture haunting the zeitgeist. Favor, system ingratiation and an aggressive self-assertion are often mistaken for merit, fortune for abundance and force for power. Those who hold real power and raw materials in their hands have to be subjugated and dehumanized in order to protect the conscience and delusions of the colonizers who who extract from them. I imagine that this is why the most nefarious (and richest) of the group have tried to have my new business accounts banned, or why I've been threatened with violence if I speak out. It's not necessarily that they want to keep me and others like me suppressed; they need us to remain as anonymous as the children mining the coltan for Elon's cars. It's hard to play superhero when you're standing on a pile of bodies, or play superstar when the core of your work is curating from feeds on the farm of the nameless.

That veil was lifted in 2020 and many mainstream artists have been busy trying to rebrand the Emperor’s clothes, but the party’s over. Their doctored images aren’t convincing anyone anymore, which is why so many of them target a mirror like me. They abused their status by love-bombing me into fawning so that I might not notice how much they needed my field work and the work of many others like me, transmuting our authentic and current struggle into art, just to be sucked up into the industry machinery by a bourgeois class struggling for relatability, having forfeited that struggle for luxury and the illusion of security, and in doing so, recreating the same extraction model which sought to profit off of their own struggle. Our work serves (pro bono) as a nostalgic lens for them to rekindle a long-since pacified passion. This is how the mainstream is actually holding back progress: by co-opting revolutionary struggle and progressive ideas just to suck the life out of them and flatten them out, like cheap badges stitched right next to endorsements of genocidal politicians and fashion brands (which aren't so dissimilar) – labels to be ripped off next season and replaced with the latest movement-turned-trend by the predatory capitalist machine – a process not dissimilar to the way Obama comes around to every grassroots movement and kills it in its tracks with Neoliberal Roundup and a crowd of culture-culling sycophants in tow. The tragedy is that those who have the power to affect the most change won't do so because it would mean conceding some of their power, whereas those who would give everything to change the system generally lack the means. In the real world, artists shouldn't struggle for relatability with time; their experience should only shape deeper and more meaningful work. Every other discipline improves with time, yet so many artists retire early because they feel "out of touch". With what? No one with the God-given ability to channel creative energy should be starving for a catalyst to rekindle the embers of a struggle they survived just to retire in a house of cards. If our purpose is to create and if our liberation is interconnected, then why aren't we creating for our collective liberation?

Here is a crucial aspect of the contradiction and the lie of patriarchy, of white supremacy and of supremacy itself. This project presupposes an extremely patriarchal notion that I'm to have nothing but the utmost gratitude for these actors despite their violent transgressions, while also remaining blind to the reality of how much some of them have benefited from my work; it was the mere mentioning of that fact at all which led to them turning on me an an instant, and in doing so, exposing the frailty and conditionality of their "love", which was immediately retracted and weaponized against me as they deemed me "ungrateful" (Salut, Macron!) – exactly the same pattern followed by white people who haven’t done any dismantling of their own racist mindsets when called out on their racism – the same "bird boxing", lashing out from behind the blindfold of privilege and rush to innocence. Their gratitude, on the other hand, was limited to one or two artists among many, and it was withdrawn the moment I behaved in a way that didn't suit their narrative or when I acted outside of their control. They operate under an assumption that it's only me who has to learn from them, because after all, they play a murderous game well; there's hardly any consideration that they might learn something from an artist who doesn't.

This is why feminism and queer struggle get rendered inert within these hierarchies. The whole system is so steeped in patriarchy that it's baked into every beam and rafter. The heavy-handed assumption that all gratitude, learning and willingness to change should only be on the side of those who don't do well by a planet-killing system, and more importantly, who don't strive to be "on top" but rather for collective liberation – is literally backwards. It's the same patriarchal notion that women should subject themselves in any way whatsoever to a man's ability to overpower, though no counterpart owes anything to the other: the masculine and the feminine serve the whole and therefore each other when their relationship remains in balance. Men who mistake an ability to overpower as strength unto itself are weak men. Men who exert violence over femme and / or non-binary people are not "masculine", because true masculinity means respecting that balance and exercising restraint despite the potential to overpower. The same is true for those who have the weapons, the capital, the surveillance technology, or any advantage. Their abuses of power are indictments against themselves of their own weak nature. I was inclined to believe I had more to learn from them until I learned what they're capable of; they proved that capitalism favors sociopathic tendencies. I wouldn't want to become capable of doing what they did to me, so their advice became less about how to “make it" and more like a vaccine to produce antibodies.

But who can blame them for wanting to come out on top of a violent and deadly system, especially the more vulnerable among them? I used to be more inclined to make exceptions for artists who hold one or more marginalized identities, until they also wielded tools of oppression against me when I challenged that system. Violence within capitalism never gets dissolved but pushed elsewhere, and it seems like remaining "on top" means perpetuating that violence inevitably. I don't think it's wrong for anyone to acquire wealth through genuine, hard work and to keep their family safe, and at the same time, I don't believe that anyone earned millions or billions solely through their own hard work alone. That myth has been constructed and violently upheld for the sake of the frail psyche of its beneficiaries. It's unnatural, rooted in patriarchy, and it's ultimately going to extinguish life on this planet, which, despite capitalists' lies and gaslighting, is actually one organism to which we all belong, in which we're all interconnected and interdependent tendrils, and we owe it to ourselves, each other and our planet to achieve balance.

So how do we achieve that balance? Am I saying that popular artists should refuse the acquisition of wealth? No. I'm opposed to a system that requires violence and suppression for the sake of a delusional exalting of a 1% of artists. I'm not even saying the meritocracy fails 100% of the time. I still believe in some of those artists' genius. It's a question of what that genius means in terms of how we treat one another. On a real, human level, I respect their talents, and I used to give praise before that was weaponized against me. Within the artificial, patriarchal and classist paradigm they insist upon, I find their persistent transgressions, exploits and abuses so shameful that their genius or particular skill sets no longer interest me, and I think it's dangerous to indulge their narcissism. I gave them an inch of fandom and they went a mile with non-consensual and unfettered access to my accounts, unpublished work and my mind, insofar as my drafts, private notes and photo gallery are extensions of it. I separate art from artists, but when their art becomes a predator's hook, I'd rather not. A fan acknowledging an artist's genius only implies unrestricted access to that fan's life and privacy to people drunk on their own supremacist Kool-Aid, but it explains the delusion of being "worth billions". It's not that I don't think many of their talents far exceed mine in specific areas – it's about what that means to them and how that apparent difference is completely distorted through a capitalist lens. In a lateral, down-to-earth community of artists, we wouldn't have artists living in poverty and we wouldn't have billionaires. This isn't controversial unless you stand to lose a billion and a blindfold. If you can't use God's gifts for the betterment of everyone, then you're in the way of our collective liberation, so forgive me for not cheering you on in your private jets and yachts while the world burns. Your megalomania isn't just cringe – it's killing us.

An artificially inflated market value is beneficial for an even smaller percentage of billionaires who not only extract from those hype bubbles but who use those artists as agents to propagate political narratives. These artists are planted and pushed the same way white supremacy is upheld to benefit the peddlers of that delusion, and I can't unsee the overlap of those two constructs. The genocide in Gaza is laying this out as plain as day for all to see: speak up about a present-day holocaust and you'll lose all of that hard-earned value, even though that demand is supposedly coming from the public, of which the majority oppose the genocide. Strange how that works. The same is true for politicians: Cori Bush spoke out before it was convenient and she was swiftly unseated – but America is a democracy, right? Gaza is the thread that’s unravelling the fragile narrative matrix that the western empire has woven over decades, and that includes everything from humanitarian interests, to moral duty, democratic values, free markets and free speech, all of which were propagated by its agents in popular culture who are now left with nothing but their pom-poms and airbrushes to fend off the harsh the light of truth. It's not a coincidence that so many of them are silent about the genocide in Gaza – aside from the muzzle their label owners force onto them, lest a lever or two get pulled on the meritocracy machine – Gaza has exposed the emperor's clothes. Even if Palestine was the only limit to free speech, it would mean that every other topic was deemed acceptable, and therefore prescribed. In this case, the exception confirms the rules.

This brings us to present day. You might ask where my own restraint is when it comes to these harsh indictments against members of a group, who – despite so much abuse – have also shown me love, and for whose talents and work I still have respect for, also despite those transgressions. They're aware of how much I've suffered at their hands, at least to a degree, and they tell me I need to forgive and "choose love, not war", even while they persist in their transgressions and continue to dodge any accountability whatsoever.

I want to walk you through an ongoing process of acceptance, grief, PTSD and a genuine will to forgive these people despite their inability to recognize their own evil-doing. I'm not writing this in some quick, reactionary instant. I spoke to a few friends about it over the past few years, most of whom didn't believe me, and in some cases, they were scared away completely. I also talked to a therapist who chose to gaslight me instead of believing me, but I needed to be heard. I was going to tell my story in a podcast back in February of this year, but decided instead to exercise restraint, to forgive and move on. But then I keep seeing echoes of my story reverberating in our world, and I know that my experience has given me a unique perspective on these evils. So it doesn't matter if 99% of people out there don't believe me. It doesn't even matter so much if 1% does. What matters is if there's any chance that this pattern of exploitation and abuse rings a bell to siblings across the world who suffer under oppressive and exploitative hierarchies, or if shedding some light onto the dark side of the entertainment industry can drive out any of its demons. We have to do whatever we can to dismantle the same supremacist ideology and demonic attachments that infects the Knesset, the U.S. Congress, the EU and Downing Street, the capitalist class, Hollywood and the entertainment industry. It's true what Yeshua said about our enemies, that we're not fighting flesh and blood, but spirit, and my enemies are drunk on their own Kool-Aid, mistaking their material comforts for peace, mistaking the dopamine administered by their musical-industrial dealers for love, brainwashed into thinking that their wealth is a measure of their merit and hard work alone, or of their good nature, while looking away from the patterns of scorched earth that their high vibes, convenience activism and exceptional discipline are carving onto our planet, not to mention the hidden hands propping up that high demand.

But what goes into that Kool-Aid? Supremacy requires control, and one of the most important lessons I've learned from this experience is that control is the primary catalyst for evil. I think some members of this group became corrupted by and addicted to the ability to manipulate and control me, especially in this clandestine manner, while others came into the situation already hooked on habits they learned from their superiors, managers, label owners and co. But humans playing God always leads to disaster, and I see their intoxication reflected on a global scale. I see it in every predatory politician and I see it in IOF soldiers describing their war crimes as though they were in a video game. The chain of command is top down; the carrots they dangle in front of me were once held in front of them as well. They're rewarded as long as they keep the masses entertained and don't stray too far from mainstream narratives. They hold up pictures, not mirrors, because too honest a reflection would disturb the prescribed world view, and if that narrative is disrupted, those carrots will be retracted, followed by a smear campaign. This is the fruit of supremacy culture and it's capitalism's end game: you can't have control over another person or group without first establishing dominion over them, and you can't have dominion over another without subjugating them, and you can't subjugate another without dehumanizing and othering them. Dehumanization is slow and insidious until you're gang-banging, abusing, hacking and stealing from your biggest fan while shunning his apparent lack of gratitude. It's less about how much they need me to submit and kiss their ring than it is about them needing to believe that a situation truly exists in which that dynamic is at all possible. I refuse to accept our difference, and in doing so, the walls around them disappear, but their identity is tied up with those structures. I'm compelled to write this even more when I realize that those illusory backdrops of separateness are not only the same ones which make war possible, but they're also the ones that will inevitably bring about our mutually ensured destruction. The only thing anyone had to learn on either side of the wall is that there is no wall, but that wall is the foundation of their matrix. Who are we outside of our bird boxes?

It's easier to justify those walls than to see what's behind them, so we rush to innocence instead. It's why many people who benefit from a brutal apartheid system can’t see themselves as anything other than victims. There are people in this group, who – despite so many transgressions, lies, cyber crimes, real-world crimes (in the case of a stolen manuscript) and even death threats against me – are actually playing victim because of my eventual reaction to years of persistent abuse, who will even go so far as to point the finger at me and tell me that I'm actually the one playing victim, while they continue their campaign of violence with the hidden hand. In this context, their continued "favors" look more akin to manipulative love-bombing. These are all patterns of narcissistic abuse, and I think the key to understanding Western Derangement Syndrome lies within that: the pathology of supremacy. I don't think they're bad people. I have friends in Israel who I know in my heart are good people, who also see themselves primarily as victims while their military murders starving people after luring them in with food. Supremacist ideology, whether racial, gender-based, or class-based, requires the privileged class to develop cataracts to protect their psyche from a complete unravelling or from psychological collapse. How do we act out of love when facing that pathology? I don't mean to say that it's not possible; I'm asking what that love really looks like in action. I don't think it looks like coddling. I love my friends in Israel even when they can't see their complicity in evil. I know what it's like to be indoctrinated – I'm a white American – and decolonizing your mind isn't a switch but a process. I can't blame anyone for waking up later or slower than me – it's not a competition, and as you awaken to a house on fire, it's your responsibility to awaken your neighbors. I also love many of the artists and musicians involved in this project despite a toxic industry which has made megalomaniacal criminals out of poets. James Baldwin says that If I love them, I have to tell them the truth. If I ignore what they've done, forgive and forget, they'll persist in their attacks, blind to the trail of destruction in their wake, while shaming my resistance.

They tell me that my resistance – my art – which can only be creative, by definition – is actually destructive. They shout at a mirror pointed at a fire they're fanning, telling it to show water. But I'm complicit as well. The systems outside of us are also those inside of us, and I find my own complicity everywhere. The minerals in the paints I use were mined from so-called "artisans" who get a penny for every 100 dollars I earn. My music is (at least still, as of September 2025) on Spotify, which steals 100% of my music's value and converts it into weapons which kill those same artisans. I sell merch made from oil. And I quote the same scripture that Bibi uses to justify his evil-doing. God knows I've got my own bird box. I remind myself to be merciful with the devils in that room and to show the restraint I wish they had shown me, but I've turned the other cheek so many times I'm dizzy, and I keep arriving at the same conclusion: that no matter how hard I try to forgive them, or how much I teach my algorithms that I don't care to see or hear anything related to them, or how distant the trauma of this insane experience is – that they won't stop, because the nature of predatory capitalism is like that proverbial dog who will gorge itself until its stomach explodes. There will always be another hacking, or the next lie, or the next projection from people who I swear should know better, but don't, or can't. Their lies and projections would be easier to forgive if I hadn't sacrificed so much in my life for the sake of maintaining integrity, while I know that their projections stem from their inability to accept where they've compromised theirs. They have to project the idea onto me that it's actually me who wants something from them, because the alternative would mean seeing what they've taken from me. Surely it's me who's chasing after them – while they've hitched their careers onto my shoulders – despite my "wrong turns" and alleged need for their direction. Of course, I must not be doing enough to earn a modest keep, otherwise they might actually notice everything I've produced in the same year they published a set of lyrics, or co-wrote an album. And I must be a prisoner, tuning into the Grammy's a few years ago, for the first time in decades, wincing at cameras shoved into faces who look like they don't have much of a choice. Every accusation is a confession.

Watching the Grammys that year was like an acid trip, watching people I love in that predicament – pretending – with everything that had been hidden pre-apocalypse laid bare: seeing the corny, old-timey lines fed to their one-and-only host, the choreographed dance around the tables, the forced kindness and an intimidated, indebted gratitude. Despite the charade of it all, I felt nostalgic for a world I once cared about, and at the same time, there was something soothing about the fact that they were still propping it up, however heavy the rafters had become, because we all wanted to hold on to some shred of "normalcy" (which always begs the question of "normal for whom?"). Back then, the cognitive dissonance was easier to brush off when painted figures inside a snow globe insisted that I wanted in, or even implied that I might be in my own bell jar. I couldn't have imagined the violence that that small world would unleash upon me soon thereafter, and it's a kind of terror that I've learned will persist until I drop that ball. So no, this isn't a reactionary shattering of that globe, because I don't write this in vengeance, but in love for our shared humanity. I have to break your world for us. Maybe then we can forgive one another.

In the summer of 2021, before I was aware of that storm gathering on the horizon, I experienced the closest thing to freedom I've ever felt: I was out painting in the countryside on the outskirts of Berlin all afternoon. The air was perfect and I was happy with my painting. As I biked home in the early evening, magenta clouds stretched across a peach sky, and thousands of those fluffy seeds floated in the air, all glowing gold. I cycled through them, hands-free, trying to grab hold of them. Flying.

I'm grateful to offer windows to days like that. I feel blessed to be an artist and to work in various media. I'm grateful that my art has helped people connect with parts of themselves and allowed others to see themselves. It's always been enough for me, even if it's never enough for the welfare office, the bank, the landlord or the institutions hell-bent on burning down that landscape. It's not enough for those former heroes or for the system they uphold, because it will never be enough. It will never be enough money, enough fame, enough luxury, or enough obsolete gramophones wrought out of stolen gold. It will never be enough to plunder my accounts, my devices or my work. There's no crime gone too far, no party too debased, no ritual too obscene. They take and take and take and take because that's what capitalism and imperialism and cancer do. A consciousness is arising in this world like white blood cells to that infection, and we will stop it in its tracks – not by flocking to it – but by no longer feeding it our attention. That world has lost too much credibility to earn our attention anyway, because we see what it does. The empire will continue on barking at its own reflection as it crumbles, and that's OK. I won't be listening. I prefer the real thing. Don't we all?

I hope they change their minds. I hope they join us outside, where it’s so light that it doesn't need propping up at all. I want the ones in the mines to breathe that air and I want everyone inside that snow globe to breathe that air too. The 1% tell me their freedom is flying private, but at what cost, and at whose expense? Subsistence art-making shouldn’t be a subversive act or a radical concept. I don't think it's self-righteous to want a less harmful, more equitable system for all people, everywhere. There's no way there but together, and I know we’ll get there, because the tables have already been flipped on the 1%, even if they're the last to know.