Yes, but what are we going to do?

Organised capital, a blind and bloated ouroboros, squeezes ever tighter about its specious hoard.

In response, a thousand earnest suggestions, a million heartfelt pleas, a billion cries of pain: Enough!  You are killing the planet!

Argument is futile. The beast is without conscience, evolved too long and too far to change.

Whither the Homeric hero?  The errant knight?  The legions of justice?

‘The best lack all conviction, while the worst/are full of passionate intensity.’

Ensure your assets are tangible.  In dark times, there shall be pitchforks or ashes.