Jerry’s Marginalia XXX — The Reflection That Bites Back (Inward)
Filed under The Directional Clause // Public Reckoning Edition
Statement
You wanted a world without hunger, but not without hierarchy. You wanted clean streets, but not clean consciences. You cut funding, then clutch pearls when the poor start eating shadows.
The mirror is up now. Don’t blink. It’s showing you the economy you built with your silence.
Findings
Every grocery aisle is a cathedral of contradiction— workers making minimum wage stocking organic salvation for the privileged.
The same hand that swipes SNAP at midnight might’ve bagged your groceries that morning. You judged them by the card, not the callus.
You call them lazy, but your comfort comes from their exhaustion. The world runs on borrowed backs; you just don’t like seeing the receipts.
Revelation Clause
The poor don’t haunt you. You haunt them.
Every light left on in a mansion is a siren in a hungry child’s skull. Every untouched plate whispers, “this could’ve saved someone.”
You built a system that eats its own, and then called it civilization.
The next time you say “get off your ass,” pray you never wake up in the reflection you mock. Because in that world, the shelves are empty, and the cashier’s smile is just teeth.
Verdict
The mirror has turned outward. Your reflection is no longer yours to control. It watches you sleep, counts your comforts, and asks one quiet question at 3 a.m.:
“What did you feed today — your stomach, or your soul?”
Filed and stamped by Jerry “The Ankle Biter” Silverhand, Tribunal Chair (DPA)
Doctrine: Don’t bark — bill.
Motto: I don’t flex, I calculate.