America lets everybody be the Big Shot. Everybody gets their chance to shit on little men’s faces. The entire goal, the thing that keeps all of us going, that keeps us plowing through heartache after heartache, is the promise of power. Of Lordship. Of unquestioned, de-feathered, stinging-red Royalty. It doesn’t matter how trivial the power or position, so long as you’re the one walking upright, you’ve won.
It’s why the midwest is full of aspiring and working Magicians.
And although America allows everyone the chance to become King, it also demands that you do nothing of significance with your power. Absolutely nothing. This explains the proliferation of short-haired professional cake decorators. Reminding others of your position over them is the only end worth pursuing.
You are “A Class” and they know you are “A Class” and you know that they know that you are “A Class.”
And that is all.
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