EPSTEIN AND THE ILLUSION OF POWER

It’s all horrific. Deeply disturbing to anyone who still considers themselves normal. And maybe that’s who we truly are: normal people. Perhaps, in all this darkness, we’ll finally see that we were the lucky ones all along. Maybe not wealthy, but honest. Maybe we’ll stop aspiring to be like those we know nothing about — the famous, the powerful, the untouchable.

The truth is, you can have everything in life, yet when you have it all, greed makes you crave the things you should never want. Our rich — once glorified — now seem sick, twisted, and used. Used by others, using others, valuable only as long as they can exploit us in return.

I can’t help but wonder: who were Epstein’s real bosses? If he truly was what many suspect — an intelligence asset collecting blackmail on the influential — then the question becomes: for whom? Someone, somewhere, holds immense power over those with influence great enough to alter the world. Power enough to bring change, or to remain silently complicit as corruption unfolds before our eyes.

Hitmen, blackmail, torture, rape, pedophilia, kidnapping — these are not scenes from fiction. They are the reality of circles of privilege, a cult of corruption disguised as success. And that cult consists of the very people our society foolishly celebrates. That’s why we must talk about this.

My three central questions are simple:

  1. Why did Epstein and people like him want to collect “dirt” on those in positions of power?

  2. Why did so many elites, having everything the world could offer, do such horrific things?

  3. Why is it crucial that we, ordinary people, unite once the truth begins to emerge?

I’m an ordinary person. I work hard, pay taxes, pay my bills. My free time is limited to TV or music — anything to distract from the grind of another workday. But what happens when your escape — entertainment, media — turns into the very medium of betrayal? When you realise those we trusted, those who preached morality or artistry, are instead participating in the exploitation of the innocent?

How do we keep living, knowing the world’s most powerful figures are capable of such depravity? They’ve done things so sick, so incomprehensible, that it forces one to rethink everything. We outnumber them, yet say nothing. Are we being tested? Our outrage measured, our silence analysed to see how much evil we’ll tolerate before acting?

Epstein’s world was one of coercion. Endless layers of blackmail. Cameras in every room, recording unimaginable acts. Every elite name caught in that web became his puppet. But again, whose puppet was he? He wasn’t doing this alone. Former CIA officer John Kiriakou suggested Epstein worked as a spy. Particularly a Mossad asset — an Israeli access agent ensnaring politicians and elites in compromising acts, ensuring loyalty through mutual corruption.

And here’s where global politics blends with moral collapse. We see powerful countries, Israel among them, committing atrocities with impunity while Western leaders remain silent. Why? Because silence was bought — with blackmail, with influence, with leverage.

This isn’t about religion; it’s about extremism. Islamist extremism is wrong. Zionist extremism is wrong. Any belief that places one group above another because of geography, history, or faith is foolish. I love all people — Jews, Muslims, Christians, Hindus, Buddhists, atheists. Love is what makes us human.

Life should be about living, not surviving — and certainly not thriving at the expense of others. History keeps repeating its cruelties because the same corrupt systems persist: colonialism rebranded, exploitation disguised as protection. The U.S. and U.K., self-proclaimed moral leaders, have long inserted themselves where profit beckons — their interference justified by false virtue but fuelled by greed.

Today, world leaders act like puppets — their silence bought by the dirt Epstein-type figures have collected. That silence speaks volumes, and until it’s broken, justice cannot exist.

All life is sacred, or none is.

On Men, Power, and Responsibility

It’s disturbing how much of the evil committed by elites comes from men. Let’s be honest — this is overwhelmingly a male problem: abuse of power, exploitation, domination. We need men, of course, but we must admit how badly we’ve failed. Maybe it’s time we let women lead, and support them unapologetically.

I’m passionate about seeing women succeed. Not performatively, but genuinely. I’ve always been close to women — my mother, my friends — and I’ve heard their stories of being harassed, diminished, or violated. It’s disgusting. Knowing how men have treated them doesn’t make me defensive — it makes me want to help fix it.

If protecting women means men like me reassessing what masculinity even means, so be it. True strength isn’t in domination, it’s in empathy. It’s ensuring women feel safe — from us.

I’m not perfect. None of us are. But recognising that isn’t weakness — it’s accountability. Boys learn “manhood” from men who never grew up, perpetuating a toxic cycle. They teach that power and conquest equal worth. It’s tragic — and it’s ruining lives.

Young men are lost, isolated, and angry. They turn online for meaning and find extremism — the manosphere, hate communities, false idols. These figures manipulate male insecurity for profit, shaping men into what the system wants: competitive, divided, angry, and exploitable. It’s capitalism’s ugliest offspring.

But it doesn’t have to be like this. Men can be good. Men can change. Love women, respect them, raise each other up. It’s not weakness — it’s evolution. Our humanity depends on it. I argue the way us men can prove it’s not all us is by extremely supporting our women and backing them to lead.

The Conclusion

The most horrifying truth of all is that those at the top — those who lecture us on morality — will likely never face real punishment. The system that protects them was built to ensure that. But if justice won’t come from above, it must come from below.

So who will hold them accountable?

Us.

What makes us us — and them them

We are the working class. Not perfect. Not unified. Not always agreeing. But we all have our own vision to strive for what our version of “good” looks like. We are human, and we are trying to be “good”. We argue, we fracture, we chase different versions of a better life — and that division is our weakness.

They are the elites. Few in number, insulated, coordinated. They don’t need to agree on morals to agree on power. While we fight each other over scraps, they stand together and take the whole table. United, disciplined, and willing to do harm most ordinary people couldn’t even comprehend.

The longer we stay divided, the longer they win. The longer we argue over flags, gods, borders, teams, and tribes, the more space we give them to carry out evils no neighbour you’ve been taught to hate will ever commit.

So put your politics to the side.
Put your tribalism to the side — nation, religion, football team, all of it.

We outnumber them overwhelmingly, but only if we remember that we are many and they are few. Power depends on our division. Justice depends on our unity.

Join me.

What comes after — when we finally lead

We don’t pretend to have all the answers. We won’t. But not knowing together is still better than living under leaders who know exactly what they’re doing — and do it without humanity.

The future doesn’t need to be perfectly planned right now. Real planning isn’t possible while power is held by those who benefit from our division. The work of imagining a better world can only begin once we are united and no longer forced to live inside their story.

The life we all want — dignified, fair, human — cannot be discovered while we are managed, distracted, and set against one another. It can only be built when power returns to where it has always belonged: with us.

That power already exists. It lives in ordinary people, everywhere. It’s been fractured on purpose — split by fear, identity, and endless false enemies. Our value is not domination, but humanity. Our strength is not cruelty, but numbers, solidarity, and shared refusal to accept an inhumane system.

Recognise what’s been done to us.
Refuse the divisions we were given.
Unite, take back collective control, and create a reality that isn’t written for us — but by us.

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