In life, one must decide: Will I live a normal life, will I live only to survive... Or will I become somthing more, something greater?
Each of us has a choice, a turning point, a fork in the road... To become your own master, or to slave to those around you, to fit into the ever decaying and ever continous life that is presented as -the right way-
They tell you: 'You are not special, you are not some unque snowflake, what you do makes no difference...
This... Is a lie.
I say, **** the system. Don't live your life a slave to kings, a dog to men, a prisoner to hate... No, rise and rise again, till your glory is known to all men. Become your own king, your own master. Do not bow to the governments because they threaten to take your posessions. It is only until you have lost everything, that you are free to do anything...
Follow your opressors - no more, listen to the governments - no more, live as a King... as a Renegade, forevermore.
I'm here to ask you a simple question.
Look around you. Take in all the articles of your possession. Feel all the weight that adorns your person. Breath in all the miasma that surrounds your being.
And answer.
Has is it been given to you, by the kindly masters about whose table you beg. The masters who call themselves Kanzlers, and Emperors, and Presidents, and Lords...
...Or have you taken it?
The huddled masses who choose the safety of their beds, sit within the ever closing bars of their lives, happy as long as they have their NeuralNet, their 100 Flavors of Synthpaste, their Consumer Goods from all over Sirius. Everything, doled out to them like a bone to a favorite pet.
Then there are those who understand that, damn it, what I'm being GIVEN is not enough. My life, my needs, have Value.
You, yes you, recognized, perhaps long ago, that these Masters fear men and women like you. They called you scum, blight, thief, murderer, terrorist, traitor. Because the Masters Table is propped on the backs of the Willing.
And while they take, and take, and take...Giving out the scraps that they cannot consume - You fought for more. And you scare them.
They hate three things. Free Necessity. Free Will.
And Free Men.
Yet now, you have only that which your strength alone can give you, all the while hounded by the whip of the Masters. You know them well. They wear uniforms, and carry weapons. They kill without thought, all for the recognition through a pittance of money, and perhaps a shiny piece of metal to pin to the breast.
The Masters have no strength in their arm except what is given to them.
And now, with the scraps you have taken, with free will, the unchained wrists of a free man, makes your life look like a hell of poverty, while the Masters live in a Heaven of gilded cages. Free admission to this land of plenty, or so it seems - payment is the presenting of your neck, for a golden gilded yoke - you are the plow animal of their reign. And you know it.
Heaven it may be...
But I say...
Better to Rule in Hell...then Serve in Heaven!
And now, I come to you with a message.
Every man is his own Master. His own King.
A Free Man's only limitation is himself.
You do not prop up the table, you are that which stands above it. You are that which destroys it
I am Rip Rorry, I am my own King, just as you can be.
They call you "criminal," I call you "gifted." They claim you are "corrupt," I say you are "perfected." They say you are succumbing to the low life of thievery, murder, insanity, and violence. I see you rising...
pauses
Rising to heights yet unimaginable, to greatness, to glory. I see men and women who choose their own path, and subjugate those who lack the will and prowess to do the same, I see the next generation... Gods among men... True freedom.
Will you follow a life of normalcy, or will you rise above? The choice lies before you... Either die a mere man, alone, forgotten, and utterly wasted; or live forever in the echos of time: Immortal, Infamous, a King... A Renegade.
Points directly at the video feed receiver
Where in this great cosmos, does your decision rest?
All men dream but not equally. Those who dream by night in the dusty recesses of their minds wake in the day to find that it was vanity; but the dreamers of the day are dangerous men, for they may act their dream with open eyes to make it possible. They will fight to see progress, they will become Renegades in the eyes of the common man...