LAUSD feeds the Elites Your Children Like Veal

April 30th, 2026, 5:03 pm 

The Public School Institution sets the premise for a later chapter of their lives...

“Would you mind?” I asked her. “If I didn’t talk so much?” 

“Huh?”

“We could have a balanced conversation - sometimes you talk - or sometimes we don’t talk.” 

“We don’t talk?” 

“We can do quiet,” I say. 

She held her glance a long while. “Do you really believe we live in a simulation?” she asked. 

“If you want to know reality, it must be grounded in real data,” I told her.  

“Or else?”

“It’s just an illusion,” I explain. 

“Why does that matter so much?” she asks me.

”Because they’re controlling us - the school system - the government - it’s all fake - the whole thing - the entire premise is fake - there’s a small group of money leeching off of our tax money - that’s how they get rich - they feed the politicians - I found evidence that this is reality,” I told her. “I don’t know what to do about it,” I said. “The media is owned by the corporations,” I said. “And that’s how you get the word out. The only rich guys I know are more concerned about leisure than America going to shit.” 

“What are you going to do?” She asked me. 

“I need a real path,” I told her. 

“A real path?”

”One that if I can make it happen, I can use Calfornia’s resources to incept an intervention - my plan is to film everything - and get everyone to agree what reality actually is…” 

“How?”

”With a story,” I told her. “The Creative brief is called the Golden Road.”

“What’s a creative brief?” 

“It’s a strategy to show what freedom should look like so we can scale it, then legislate it into our government - it’s time to take the corporations out of the equation.” 

“How are you going to do that?”

”That’s the thing,” I told her. “I have a little trouble believe it myself.” 

“Believing what?” 

“That I am going to win as California Governor.” 

“What makes you think you’re going to win?” 

“I think I’m going to win, but I don’t know I’m going to win. I don’t believe it.”

”How come?”

”Because I lack faith in God,” I told her. 

“What does this have to do with God?” 

I paused, watching her. For the first time, I could see past her overwhelming presence - behind all of that was someone who really wanted to know the truth — and I think maybe that’s what we had in common. I started to feel myself become calm, as if maybe I was talking to some kind of kind angel - no one who looks like this has ever been this interested in me - I don’t know why it felt like such a big deal to me — maybe it was because I was an artist and I was hyper sensitive to beauty  “It takes time, Louis to get used to being in the presence of a unicorn” but you can’t lie to the unicorns - you have to tell them the truth - or they disappear if you lie to them - 

“My new place is still unpacked,” she said.

I didn’t really understand why she said that. “Maybe you can help me put up some paintings,” she said. I was still confused. 

I couldn’t see her teeth, but I could tell she was smiling underneath as she looked at me. I looked at her at first, but it felt so intense, I had to look away. I wonder if she knew how powerful she was — it occurred to me that she did. Maybe she was awake too. 

Some date multiple people at once, but I tend to think of a relationship as a two-way meditation — in the beginning, it’s more about sensing if there is a compatible configuration - and so far this woman from Montana was invisibly aligning with me; I had to make an effort to hide how attracted I was to her; I felt slightly disturbed, and her dialogue was impeccable. She didn’t even care about what a pirate I was…now she wanted me to go to her new apartment, and help her hang one of her paintings. 

“I want to tell you a story inside my new apartment,” she said. When she said that, it brought everything I was thinking to the surface. Why was she inviting me back to her apartment? I wasn’t even sure I wanted to go, but I didn’t want to ruin the date by saying no to her. I felt like she was moving too fast suddenly, but I didn’t want to scare her away by saying no. It’s happened to me before, but with a woman I didn’t like that way. I wondered if there was any way I could not go to her apartment, and still make her like me; I thought about a couple different scenarios, but she’d have to give me a transition at least, but it didn’t happen…so I found myself in her apartment in Beverly Hills. Since I had picked her up at her place, I just drove back, and she we went under the building to the garage - she was very impressed with the way I parked in her extra spot - she said she couldn’t believe it took me only two turns to park in a spot that took her about ten turns minimum. She stared at me, very impressed as I finished adjusting the car to exit. “I can’t believe you did that,” she said. “Not even my children’s father can park in the spot with at least eight maneuvers - and he’s really smart,” she said. “Oh, my God,” she said. “Who the fuck are you?” 

She made me laugh, then she leaned into kiss me right in middle of me laughing. She backed away with a kind of crazy look on her face. I was going to ask her if she was okay, but then I thought it might make her feel crazy so I didn’t. I just kept quiet. “Who the fuck are you?” She asked me again. 

“I’m pretty good at hanging paintings,” I told her. “But when I hang things, I eyeball it — I don’t measure.”

”Why not?”

”I’m an artist,” I told her. “A conceptual thinker.” 

“What’s the difference?” 

“An engineer like Elon Musk thinks in processes. An artist thinks in concepts,” I clarified. “It’s a much lazier way of thinking because you’re trying to figure out a way to do nothing,” I said. “Leave the ego out of it, just make it a functional story.” 

“Functional story?” I felt like the dialogue wasn’t going as well as I wanted it to, suddenly. 

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I’ve gotten too meta. Life is an art, and it’s actually kind of a moment to be in this apartment with you.” 

“How come?” 

“Because,” I said. “No one as disturbingly beautiful as you has ever really liked me before,” I told her.

She laughed. “You think I’m beautiful?” 

“Disturbingly,” I said. 

“Why, disturbing?” 

“Because it seems like dumb luck, like winning the lottery.” 

She laughed. 

“I’ve been trying to find a guy I’m into for a long time,” she told me. “The reason why I brought you back to my apartment is because I know you’re a decent guy, and that you’d never do anything I didn’t want you to.” 

“Thank you for your trust.”

”I’ve researched you,” she said. “I know who you are.” 

It made me laugh when she said that.

”There is a great wickedness in this city,” she said. “We have to be saved.”

It wasn’t what I expected to hear. 

I thought maybe she’d say something more romantic. 

“Saved?” 

“The people who are in charge of this state,” she said. “Eat children like veal, they are a sick…sick…group of people.” 

And that was the beginning of the reason why I decided to run for California Governor.