12/23/2025
The Man Who Practiced Power
He learned the rules early.
Not the rules about fixing things—
the rules about sounding like he could.
By his early twenties, he was already an expert at outrage. Not the messy kind that leads to solutions, but the polished kind that fits neatly into a microphone.
He had never missed a paycheck.
Never stood in line at a food bank.
Never wondered whether rent or groceries came first.
But he spoke angrily about people who did.
Very angrily.
Whenever something broke, he blamed the people in charge.
Whenever he was asked how he’d fix it, he blamed them again—just louder.
He called this leadership.
He practiced his speeches the way others practiced trades. Catchphrases instead of skills. Applause lines instead of answers. He didn’t build things; he dismantled sentences until they fit on a sign.
Crowds loved him. Anger is efficient. It travels faster than plans.
When asked about experience, he smiled.
“I’ve been here my whole life.”
Which was true.
He had spent decades inside the building, warning everyone about how terrible the building was. He pointed at the fire while standing comfortably near the exit.
One day, someone asked a dangerous question:
“If you’ve known the problems for so long… why didn’t you fix any of them?”
He laughed it off.
That wasn’t his role.
His role was to remind people that everything was broken—
and that someday, somehow, someone should really do something about it.
Preferably later.
Preferably not him.
