Who is to define what is guilt and what is innocence? Are the "pitiful" "victims" who "have been wronged" actually telling the truth? Who is to judge whether something is a crime or not? I feel deeply the malice of the big shop bullying the small customer; I feel deeply the malice of the capitalist class colluding with the ruling class; I feel deeply the malice of those who play the people for fools, who brandish the cudgel of morality, who twist the facts as they please, who deliberately conceal the truth. Even with a hundred mouths or a thousand mouths there is no way to plead one's case; even with the clear-sightedness of the multitude there is no way to hold back the muddle-headedness of one side.
The so-called harm done to privacy is just one of those grand, high-sounding excuses meant to trigger a pitiful, cheap, manipulated sympathy. The so-called damages are nothing but the impotent rage of one whose attempted villainy has failed -- like a vicious dog that, having failed to harm anyone, barks itself into a frenzy out of shame -- a ridiculous, decayed, backward, hollow facade of self-deception trying to pull the wool over the world's eyes. It cannot meet the needs of the broad masses, yet it absolutely will not allow anything excellent to appear; it can only rely on its meager strength, leaning on the so-called orthodox bloodline, to extract value from its slaves. It deludes itself into believing its slaves are its steadfast adherents, who will never permit any person, any thing, to encroach on its pitiful, treasured rubbish.
How laughable! Living in the present day of the 21st century, there are still these giants who try to crush people by virtue of status. Sitting on piles of gold and silver and copper coins, they still pretend to be victims. On one hand they squander the trust of their slaves, on the other they snatch up the supreme power of life and death, yet they neither pursue their proper duties nor strive to better themselves nor attend to honest work. Instead they constantly think only of grasping the reins of speech every minute, every second, of clearing away every obstacle that might stand in the way of seizing more profits, while never once contemplating the ability to rise out of adversity. The realm so painfully won in years past, the dashing bearing of those days, the gold-tipped spears and iron-clad horses -- all are utterly gone now. The grand banquet is too dazzling, too exquisitely wrought; how could one not lose one's fighting spirit? How could one not, in the lofty pose of the "one above", give orders down at others?
How pitiful! Living in the present day of the 21st century, the so-called individuality cannot be tolerated. The right to express has been utterly lost, accompanied by so-called transgressions of speech, so-called damage to interests, so-called illegal overreach. The best way to wipe out dissenting voices is by no means to wrack one's brain to find ways of bettering oneself, but rather to throttle their throats at the root, to clog up their airways, to sever their vocal cords, to hack off their limbs, to smash their brains, so that they will never again, completely and absolutely and truly, be able to make any sound, to convey any information, to freely write down what they think, what they imagine, what they feel! And as for those who shift with the wind, who waver this way and that, who shrink back in fear, whose stance is not firm, whose ears are soft and hearts easily moved, who have witnessed the bodies of the martyrs, who refuse to take even the slightest risk again -- the methods are even simpler! All you need to do is rope in a few of them -- no, these false puppets can simply be fabricated -- give them just a tiny bit of insignificant nudging, and you can successfully whip up momentum, you can pressure anyone, you can do whatever you please!
How lamentable! More and more people have no way of speaking the truth -- even words that carry no targeted meaning at all have become unspeakable things. Some are like sharp blades and keen edges; some are like rusty iron and dull weapons. The shoddy, cheap implements grow restless, insisting on dragging the sharp blades and keen edges out of their deep manors, digging them out from underground, pulling them out of their sheaths, then driving them at wholly fictitious, imagined victims, before sobbing that the divine weapons have hurt people, that the sharp implements have done evil, insisting on taking the furnace of justice to smelt them down, to melt them into liquid iron! Even when the evil deed was unsuccessful, they will absolutely throw them into the rubbish heap, throw them into the dung pit, absolutely soiling their reputation, absolutely cheapening their worth, absolutely using all this to elevate their own rank! And then they borrow a little traveling money from time itself, to smooth over any evaluations that might still emerge!
One after another, ridiculous, absurd, outrageous tragicomedies are being staged at every moment. One sound after another interweaves and resounds in the chapter of the 21st century. This is the era I share with millions upon millions of others, the era I am living in, and an era that will eventually be written down. Perhaps a thousand years from now, if humankind still exists, then please take a look at this absurd state of the world. May this be received with the utmost respect.