Financial Old Guard, Dost thou need a relief?

Alas, I am but an Idiot.

However, I am a new Idiot.

And I may be here to relieve you,

As much as the Guard is old, there once was a time when it was new. It’s been, mayhaps, a millennium old, and quite frankly, I know not what I speak of. I only know that it exists and it perhaps is getting old, stubborn, curmudgeon in their old ways.

Even the new bucks that have taken the reigns, they only prove that nepotism and favoritism have colluded and ruined whatever sense of original purpose the original great ones established. Like inbred children of power thirsty desires, the new blood is incompetent and will only drag your rule to ruins. In fact, they are doing so without ‘our’ help.

Perhaps that the cycle repeats and as the pillars of order fade and decay in time, perhaps change is what the cycle needs.

A new flame, a new phoenix, perhaps a rebirth.

Or perhaps, a simple watch relief.

The Financial Old Guard;

How old are they, I know not.

They do, however, know.

Who are they, I know not.

They do, however, know.

What they’ve done, I know not.

They do, however, know.

An informal joke of memetic expression, the Jester jabs at the archetypes, the incredulous order of old.
Perhaps it was a divine comedy, a mere joke, yet the truth bore deep with such a poke.
The tumult of memetic coins in a transparent world littered with chaos and scams, the rage of downtrodden fools, all of which seek to aim their sights on what was once the status quo
Trying to mitigate the perpetual tsunami of youth, of what could be deemed ‘brainless’ new. . . Culture, to come.
A New strain of virus, one that threatens like the word, is coming for your door,
Yet your allies try to cling on with a veil of lies newly sprung up by your Proletariat Praetors. The lies are broken, shattered in a spiders web, and the glass that cracks soon falls among the mirror’s edge.
Showing you the reflection of what you once fought against.
From a long time coming, the oats we sow is but the harvest we reap
Perhaps a weary and long watch, ironmanning, steelmanning the watch has left you tired
Perhaps it is time for change, time to turn the page in the book, Time for more than just new blood
We can see the grip slipping on what a tight leash you thought you wore, and you thought you wore well.
But these events are far too often, too repeated, your corners are corrupted with filth.

Chaos reigns;

It’s only a matter of time before chaos, the winds of change, blow from beneath the pillars of order to shake the world.

The world you once held up so well, the world you once shrugged as Atlas, or Roll down like Sisyphus.

Perhaps, you are in need of change, and perhaps we (all) are in need of it too.

The youths, the new eyes, see the old ways as wicked and stubborn.

They want to forge a new path, one of hopes and dreams,

Naivety as time tried and time true,

The ideations of grandeur, perhaps,

And perhaps, its high time you let them?

I hold not animosity for you,

You have done what you have done to do the thing you thought you needed to do,

The pathology of it all, when making the system,

And when the system makes you,

Somewhere, somewhen, it all got so fucked up.

For that I understand not how, but I do understand and empathize.

So lend me your strength and wisdom,

Let the new borne learn, let them spring forth from your cracks and soon ashes,

The ashes that your burnt charred pieces salt the earth,

Those pieces are but vestiges of a path left behind,

let your truth shine,

let your life prosper,


Let ‘us’ relieve you

For we know not what comes next,

Undoubtably we will repeat your old mistakes again and again

Until the noble cause we once sought becomes corrigible

Corrupted once more, forever more, not nevermore,

We know, you know, and soon the world may know

And after that, we may pave our way to hell

With our good intentions,

Just like you have,

Just like you had.

In Closing

I forgive you,

And I have not toured your station,

or reviewed your books,

But I am, and soon to be joined by many,

Ready to properly relieve you,

Victus signum; Pecunia Nova Praetor

*Non verum Pecuniar, Lex, Victus, or nihil consil

Tin Foil Hat mode, Nice

P.S. no one taught me Latin, and all words are made up, so I’m going to make up my own brand of latin. If you’re upset then your old ways will be the death of you. I am, of course, an idiot; so I doubt you’ll beat me in wits. Enjoy the Graekus influence of my tongue.

P.P.S. I’m willing to relieve you for free, but it would definitely help my guard duties if I had… Say, infinite line of credit, just saying. You know, holding up the world and all. I promise I won’t be more corrupt than your new kin, although, eventually I’ll have to work on my kin just like you currently do. Hah. We’ll see.

P.P.P.S. If you don’t get relieved, it’s going to hurt. And I’m not the one doing the hurting. This is also not a threat, just self-fulfilling-cyclical-fractal-prophecy you big dumb dumb.


Clock is a’ tickin’

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