You too can be a millionaire if you hustle hard. I thought I’d blocked all these mediocre white bros, but apparently not. You know the type. They pose with their fast cars and designer shades. Their bank account is their ultimate flex, and they trot out those show pony zeros whenever they get the chance. But they want you to know they’re human too. When cut, they bleed, even if their deepest cut comes from a butter knife.

Their voices are indistinguishable. Their pitch is genius and formulaic.

They worship at the altar of billionaires (if I read one more fucking Elon Musk article, I’m going for jugulars), who’ve managed to make more money during the pandemic while people can’t afford diapers. Our megawatt bro sells you on their get-rich-quick scheme, complete with a course and ebook without ever acknowledging their socioeconomic upper hand and lottery-winning privilege.

No doubt they work hard, but these guys aren’t necessarily brilliant, they’re lucky.

Why am I mad? Their words are dangerous. They’re capitalizing off the fragile lot, selling them on cash-money millions. You too can make $10,000 a month and drive the fast car I own. And while the buyer beware axiom holds true, people now are at their most vulnerable.

It’s likely you won’t make their money, own their car, have their life. Maybe it’s because you didn’t win the privilege lottery. You’re working three jobs and you’re on the verge of a breakdown because you might get evicted. Maybe it’s because not everyone can be a millionaire. That may sound way-harsh Tai, but I’m…