Shock Doctrine

We battle and quibble over numbers, twenty, or forty, or fifty-three percent. The bottom squeals as the beast still lumbers over their desperate bodies. Screams will rent the air that no one hears because all fight for their own small crumb and piece of turf. Paperwork splatters blood against the light. The casualties mount and the suits will laugh at fools eating their own. They too well know that the greater the battle among their minions that much greater the profits that will grow in their hands. No need for shared opinions of how the peasantry has been bullied, none seem to notice that they are enslaved.