In America we are constantly reminded that we have no real value, not the kind that big time executives and the captains of industry desire anyway. Of course we actually do have very real value, the kind that matters: we enrich the lives of our friends and relatives, we provide charity to those less fortunate than us, we make the forlorn smile with our art, we help others see that learning is not all dull with our wit, we cheer sick people up, we tell those who are depressed that we are there for them, whenever they need us, and so on. We do so much, but we get so little in return. I still remember being a young lad, not more than thirteen years of age, when both of my parents fell violently ill. I helped to nurse them back to health. I cooked and cleaned for them every night. I acted as a parent for my lovely niece who was always in a good mood, even when my father died years later, she was there to make me smile. She was returning the favor for all the years I took care of her the best way that she knew how. Children understand that when you do something for them that they should do it in return. This is because we teach children to share. However, adults do not share; adults take advantage. Even more than the memory of my niece's laughter, I remember the agony of my father's cancer. He screamed and writhed in pain, sometimes for hours, sometimes so loudly you could not sleep. I remember that so much more vividly than my niece's smile. The agony drowns out the happiness and all that is left is sorrow. Perhaps I could have done more; perhaps I could have done more. Perhaps then I would have received something for all my trouble. Perhaps witnessing your mother have a stroke at twelve is not enough. Perhaps having violent seizures because of epilepsy is not enough. Perhaps there is more suffering to be done; it is never quite enough for the captains of industry. You must suffer more; you must grin and bear a little longer. Then, maybe, just maybe, you will get a few of their table scraps, but only if you are good, only if you are quiet, none of that smiling crap. The captains of industry have no time for smiling children. There are too many fine cheeses to savor, too many fine wines to guzzle, too many slabs of meat to devour, too many fashion trends to follow, and, most  importantly, too many statues to win. You are taught when you are a child that the person with the statue is more important than you, that they are superior to you in some way. This is how we know who are our betters, a golden idol shinning bright. In 2018, the Oscar award show costs 44 million dollars to produce for just that one year alone; that is more money than most people will ever make in their entire lives. Less than a statue; that is the message. During Emmy season, networks pay 60-80 million dollars on Emmy campaigns so that they can take home the 400 dollar statues. 60-80 million dollars for prestige, for superiority...for a statue. The 2018 Grammy award ceremony is reported to have gone over budget by 8 million dollars. Eight million dollars flushed down the toilet to hand out statue after statue in order to appease ego after ego. How many children could have been fed with that eight million dollars? Nobody cares; children are less than a statue. Then the recipient gives a speech, a speech about how important they are, about how hard they worked, about the little people (they mean the people without statues, the people who cannot afford to feed their children) who helped the statue winners appear superior to others. They go on and on with these speeches so much that the music plays signaling that their time is up, but they talk anyway. They talk over the music; little people are playing the music after all, yet more people who are less than a statue. And so the big egos wave their golden idols in our faces, signaling that they are the best and brightest the world has to offer. We are beneath them; they are the ones with the statues.