You Will Never Be a Billionaire You Stupid Fuck
Show some fucking class.
You honestly believe you might get there one day, don’t you?
That if you just grind hard enough, hustle longer, keep your nose to the never-ending wheel, snort some cocaine, you’ll strike gold—some multi-million-dollar jackpot that will escalate your life into the billionaire orbit. You’ll buy mansions, fly private, land a feature in Forbes, and the whole world will finally see you for the visionary you are.
THEY WILL SEE YOU FOR WHAT YOU’VE ALWAYS BEEN. A STRONG MAN, AN ABLE MAN. THE PEAK OF MOTHERFUCKING MASCULINITY.
Let me cut the shit for you: You will never be a billionaire. You are not part of the club. You never were, never will be. The entire system you’re propping up with sweat, blood, time, dignity—your whole fucking life—has zero intention of letting you ascend the throne. It doesn’t matter how many motivational posters you pin on your depressing cubicle wall, or how many times you read think pieces about “10 Habits of Self-Made Millionaires.” The biggest con capitalism ever sold you is the idea that you, too, can become one of the overlords.
Yet you cannot accept. YOU MUST BE ONE OF THEM.
You wake at dawn, hustle to two or three jobs, and blame yourself when it doesn’t pan out. You internalize every self-help seminar, every YouTube “guru” telling you to “manifest that dream,” because if you fail, it must be your fault, right? You just need more grit, more devotion. Guess what? None of that hustle is going to breach the golden gates. Their wealth is compounding at obscene rates, while you’re drowning in monthly bills, credit card debt, and groceries that used to cost half of what they do now. Wages barely rise an inch, but the cost of everything else skyrockets like a fucking rocket fueled by your regrets. They humiliate you, keep you down, and yet you keep licking those delicious boots, slowly turning into what you always wanted to be: a fascist. The ultimate power fantasy of the weak man.
The US is especially adept at selling these lies. The American Dream is the biggest farce of them all. It’s a centuries-old propaganda machine perpetuated to keep you docile, keep you striving. Because the moment you realize you’re not actually going to make it into their exclusive club, you might do the unthinkable:
Link arms with others in your position, your sisters and brothers in arms, start asking uncomfortable questions, start demanding real change, start tearing this shit down!
And they can’t have that. They absolutely cannot have that. It’s so much easier to feed you illusions of grandeur, illusions of that house with a picket fence, three perfect blonde children, and the brand-new Tesla in your driveway, illusions that your hard work and moral fortitude will pay off.
It’s an exclusive club. They’re born into it. They marry into it. Occasionally, they let in a freak example of the “self-made” billionaire just to keep the whole ruse going—like a grand carnival trick, a lottery winner who makes the rest of us keep buying tickets. But this system was never meant to elevate you. It was made to keep you hoping, praying, and slogging along in your bullshit job, saturating your mind with fantasies of “one day.”
One day, one day, one day you will ascend. You will join them, dine with them, fuck their rich daughters, laugh at the dying peasants beneath your throne.
You never realize they’re all fucking losers, and so are you.
Meanwhile, the wealth gap keeps widening. The top 1% hoard more and more, passing it on to their heirs, who, in turn, pass it on to theirs, and so forth, building a perpetual harem of obscene riches. They’ve got real estate in every major and minor city, stashed away trust funds, offshore accounts, private islands, entire corners of the planet as personal playgrounds—while you can barely afford the rent on your leaky apartment. They don’t give a fuck about you. Why would they? You’re a disposable cog in their profit machine. You exist to keep the system afloat, not to question it. You are an embarrassment.
You have more in common with the homeless person on the street than with the lords of capital. Read that again. Yet you’re fed a narrative that the homeless are lazy, or that they “chose” their fate, while the billionaire is a shining beacon of entrepreneurial success. Wake the fuck up, samurai. There’s a reason they’re sinking millions into PR campaigns and philanthropic vanity projects: to maintain the illusion of being “good guys,” so you won’t unite against them in a glorious storm of ultra-violent class solidarity.
It’s so easy to blame yourself for not working hard enough. It’s so easy to idolize people like Elon Musk or Jeff Bezos or Donald Trump, to retweet their “inspiring” quotes or watch their interviews like they’re prophets of some new fucked up religion. We got enough of those. They’re playing you. They suck up obscene wealth created by countless workers—warehouse workers pissing in bottles, gig drivers sleeping in their cars, lab researchers on short-term contracts, engineers burning out daily, the poor and homeless always a warning—and then toss you a rotten bone.
It’s time to burn that entire dream to the ground—not your own dreams, but the corporate propaganda. You want a real dream? Dream of a world where you’re not paying half your paycheck to a landlord who’s never fixed a thing in your apartment. Dream of a society where you don’t have to decide between medical treatment or feeding your kids. Dream of a community that invests in your well-being, your education, your mental health. Dream of a world that doesn’t slaughter innocents. Dream of a world where ALL share the fruits of progress. Dream of true liberty: freedom from the shackles of wage labor, from the desperation that compels you to bow your head and accept humiliation.
Dream, if not for you, for the countless others. Even if you do not suffer, even if you’re comfortable, all that is built on the suffering of others.
They’ve convinced you that the system’s rigged in your favor (with a little elbow grease), when in truth, it’s rigged against you from the second you’re born without generational wealth. This is a system built by them, for them. They taught you to look down on those below you rather than question why the fuck there’s a ladder in the first place. They taught you to scratch and claw your way up the rung, fighting others for the measly scraps. Meanwhile, the top rung is locked behind a gate that’s guarded by an army of lawyers, lobbyists, PR experts, and politicians on their payroll.
Think about it: every time you see some working-class person praising the billionaire’s success story, doesn’t it feel like they’re praising a jailer for building a slightly bigger cell? We need to break the fuck free, not admire the shiny steel bars. This planet is set ablaze by their industries, oceans choked with plastic from their profit-driven shipping. They hoard resources and then preach charity as if they’re doing us a favor. And you keep chasing their acceptance, their lifestyle, as if it’s the promised land. It’s not. It’s a labyrinth rigged with illusions and soul-sucking corridors.
Class solidarity is the only way out. Stop idolizing those rich cunts and start standing with those by your side. You’re not going to buy a one-way ticket to the top of the pyramid. Start building real bonds with people who also struggle with rent, medical bills, student loans, child care, soul-crushing office jobs, gig-economy chaos, the entire dystopian hamster wheel. You’ll realize the power has always been with the collective—if we decide to wield it. If we refuse to be pitted against each other by bullshit identity wars and blame games.
Yes, it’s a revolution we need—a revolution of perspective, a revolution of the heart, and, down the line, a revolution in more tangible ways. Because you’re never going to change this system by playing its game, or by valiantly “working your way up.” And they are counting on you to keep believing that lie because it keeps you docile. It keeps you from storming the gates. It keeps you from pulling that entire facade down.
But look, you still have a choice, right here, right now: keep hustling for their scraps, keep your illusions alive and be disappointed for the rest of your life, or stand the fuck up and say: “Enough.” Demand better. Not just for yourself, but for everyone on this sinking ship. Demand an end to wage slavery, to exploitation, to the idea that you should sacrifice everything for some unattainable dream. Demand genuine democracy, not a capitalist democracy that’s bought and paid for by the highest bidder. Demand transparency. Demand the wealth that should belong to society, not to a handful of oligarchs playing Monopoly with our lives. Demand liberty, real liberty—the kind that sets your mind on fire and your heart pounding with possibility.
It’s time for you to grow up. Time for you to use your brain. Time to stop the daily humiliation. You are so fragile, so weak, so easily manipulated in your laughable attempts at domination and control. You wanna be a real man? A real man isn’t scared of ghosts; isn’t scared of minorities, isn’t scared of women having the same fucking rights as men, isn’t scared of complexity. Why the fuck are you always so scared?
You will never be a billionaire. They don’t want you. They never did. Show some fucking class—class consciousness—and turn that anger, that yearning, that energy toward solidarity with the rest of us stuck in the trenches. EVERY SINGLE ONE OF US. Stop believing them when they tell you that skin color, gender, nationality, religion, anything matters. You have believed too long. There’s us and them, nothing else. Just think, for fuck’s sake. How much more propaganda can you swallow? They’re laughing at our division, so very carefully orchestrated, they’re laughing at you. From their golden thrones, they are laughing.
And the world stands at the abyss.
Antonio
Read my books, if you haven’t done so yet. They’re all about revolution and anger. If you like my work, you can become a paid subscriber here on Substack or you can support me on Patreon and via PayPal. Thank you.
“Enjoy” this essay in video format:
This essay is for all men drawn and manipulated by the right. They don’t give a shit about you. You will never be one of them. You will never be a billionaire. Fascists are always on the losing side of history.
Stand up and think for a fucking moment.
A masterpiece.