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When people suffer unbearable injustice, find no legal recourse, and are censored and silenced when they cry out for justice, they sometimes take the law into their own hands vigilante-style. That, we may suppose, is what happened when United Health Care CEO Brian Thompson was executed in Manhattan by a gunman whose shell casings left the memorable message “depose,” “deny” and “delay,” referring to the common industry tactic of stonewalling payouts.

The New York Times, America’s premier defender of institutional injustice, is aghast that Americans are siding with our first-ever folk hero CEO-killer. And NBC is shocked that America’s “internet sleuths” are more interested in helping the killer than catching him.

Before social media, such talk would have been confined to bars, cafés and dining room table conversations, while the mainstream mind-control machine would have ignored and/or marginalized it. Today, thanks to the internet, we can see that everybody else is reacting pretty much the same way we are: “Yippee!!!!!! One down, 140 to go!”

Now, to echo the immortal words of Richard Nixon, let me be perfectly clear: I have no intention of shooting down Stripe’s scumbag CEO Patrick Collison in the streets of Manhattan, or San Francisco, or anywhere else for that matter…though if he ever shows up here in Saidia, Morocco, I might be tempted to kick his scruffy little Irish-Zionist ass up and down the beach a few times, and finish by using his head as a soccer ball.

And if the news suddenly popped up on my laptop screen that Collison perished during one of his pilgrimages to kiss Netanyahu’s tush in Tel Aviv when a Resistance drone equipped with a nuclear weapon had vaporized most of that satanic city, I must admit that I would leap to my feet cheering wildly, then buy the whole café a round of inexpensive non-alcoholic beverages. (One nice thing about Moroccan cafés is that the beverages are inexpensive and non-alcoholic, and the patrons unanimously cheer for the Resistance.)

If Collison were to be tragically shot down in, say, downtown San Francisco by another folk hero, here is what the shell casings might look like:

If Collison gets shot down it won’t be by me. I have an airtight alibi. I am sitting peacefully in the shade, typing temperately on a laptop, hanging out on the patio with Muse the Cat here in Saidia, Morocco, 6107 miles from San Francisco.

As long as I can, I will wage jihad peacefully by way the pen. So let my pen issue a warning to the CEOs: Your class is living on borrowed time. When I was growing up in 1960s and 1970s America, CEOs earned about twenty times the average worker’s salary. Today, they earn 320 times more than their average slave, I me