The grey men in white halls, surrounded by marble and granite, give me gifts they purchased with my money and then demand obedience. They say, we are responsible for your happiness and your employment, for we are the purveyors of programs and initiatives. With my eyes pointed towards these gifts, they attempt to steal more of what is rightfully mine. Earned by the sweat and callouses of my hands. No more. I will fight these men, with the weapons I have. My speech, my network, and my people.