Ozee The cheeky retweetledi

Ah, the System. Not some crude chain gang forcing your hand, mind you—just a quiet, civilized affair of shaping what you think, what you feel, and what you’re fool enough to call “possible.” A nation of thinkers? Perish the thought. The bell rings, you shuffle. The test rewards repetition, you salute. Grades are handed out like medals for not asking why. All very efficient, really.
Reminds one of 1984, where Big Brother didn’t bother with whips when a telescreen and a little Ministry of Truth could rewrite your mind before breakfast. Same gentle persuasion: control the thoughts, own the reality. Or Animal Farm, where the pigs tossed out the farmer, scribbled some stirring slogans about equality, and promptly decided some animals were more equal than others. The revolution succeeded splendidly. The new bosses looked remarkably like the old ones.
But never fear, the hooded sage on the screen tells us. Don’t fight the System. Rise above it. Embrace your divinity. The matrix, after all, begins in the classroom and ends the moment you decide it does.
Marvelous. One almost wants to applaud. So it goes.
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