I am Curtis Yarvin, and I'm here to ask you a question. Is a man not entitled to the sweat of his brow? 'No!' says the man in London, 'It belongs to Yahweh.' 'No!' says the man in the Paris, 'It belongs to the People.' 'No!' says the man in Munich, 'It belongs to the the World Order.' I rejected those answers; instead, I chose something different. I chose the impossible. I chose... California, a city where the artist would not fear the censor, where the scientist would not be bound by petty morality, Where the great would not be constrained by the small! And with the sweat of your brow, California can become your city as well.