There was a time when young people rebelled by growing their hair, burning bras, or sneaking into disco clubs. Today, the rebellious act of choice seems to be supergluing oneself to priceless paintings or lying across a six-lane motorway like a human speed bump. You have to admire the commitment: “If I can’t stop climate change, at least I can stop Stephen in his Toyota Prado from getting to work on time.”

Enter Greta Thunberg and her spiritual army of eco-ninjas. Armed with cardboard signs, TikTok accounts, and an uncanny ability to make grown politicians sweat like they’re sitting through a tax audit, they’ve turned climate anxiety into a global teen sport. And it’s working: young people now genuinely believe that capitalism equals apocalypse. Forget prom—kids are out here debating whether to abolish private property.

If Senator Joseph McCarthy—the Cold War communist hunter—could crawl out of his grave, he’d probably faint, roll back in, and glue himself shut just to avoid watching America elect leaders who think Marx is a lifestyle influencer.

Now, let’s set the record straight. Adam Smith’s capitalism—the OG version—wasn’t about hedge fund bros deciding if your local grocery store carries bread. It was about productivity, innovation, and the invisible hand making life less terrible. But somewhere along the way, “shareholder value” became the golden calf, and today’s capitalism feels less like Adam Smith and more like Gordon Gekko on steroids.

If Adam Smith rose from the grave and peeked at modern capitalism, he’d probably choke on his quill pen. Take Enron, for instance: once hailed as the “future of energy.” Except, minor detail—it didn’t actually produce energy. Nope. It traded air, numbers, and confidence. Imagine opening a bakery that sells bread futures, but not a single piece of bread. That was Enron. And when it collapsed in a ball of accounting scandals, it took jobs, pensions, and faith in capitalism straight down the toilet.

Or consider what happens when two restaurant chains merge. In a sane world, you’d think: “Great! Better menus, more staff, cheaper food.” But in the modern capitalist reality? Both restaurants shut down their kitchens, outsource the food prep to a factory in a different time zone, and then sell off the buildings to “unlock shareholder value.” Translation: shareholders make a quick buck, thousands of waiters and cooks are unemployed, and the customers get microwaved lasagna that tastes like despair.

This isn’t capitalism in its original sense—it’s financial alchemy where jobs vanish, assets disappear, and the only thing being produced is more shareholder PowerPoint slides.

Meanwhile, communism—history’s alternative—doesn’t exactly have a glowing track record. Stalin, Mao, Pol Pot… let’s just say if communism were a restaurant, the Yelp reviews would be a nightmare:

• ⭐ “Tried it, ended up starving.”

• ⭐⭐ “Food was free but so was the firing squad.”

• “Would not recommend. Lost my farm and my uncle.”

Instead of turning kids into human traffic cones on highways, we can actually turn trash into treasure. Picture this: your old Nokia brick phone, your fried laptop, and that mysterious drawer of cables that hasn’t seen daylight since the Mwai Kibaki administration—all finally have a purpose. Bring them in, and instead of a guilt trip about landfills, you earn tokens.

Not just any tokens—climate tokens. These can encourage tree planting, sustainable farming, and yes, fighting deforestation. And this isn’t some distant utopia; it’s about to get very real. Starting January 2026, the EU will require certificates proving coffee wasn’t grown on deforested land. Farms that don’t adapt will lose big, but those that align with new standards will survive—and more importantly, our forests stand a chance.

So rather than fearmongering young people into thinking the planet has 30 seconds left, why not give them systems where recycling old tech or supporting sustainable farms actually pays? Less glue on paintings, more glue keeping ecosystems intact.

Now we’re talking! Suddenly, climate activism isn’t about crying in front of Parliament or screaming at cows to stop farting methane. It’s about solving problems through tech, partnerships, and actual incentives. Want to save the planet? Great. But do it without making Grandma late for her dentist appointment because you’ve glued your forehead to the Uhuru Highway, and good luck with that.

Let’s not kid ourselves. Something is rotten in our global refrigerator:

• Our food is suspiciously processed. Half of it glows in the dark.

• Our cities are designed by the same architects who built grey filing cabinets. And cement grey is a color, or so they believe.

• Joy is being rationed like it’s 1943. Laughter now requires a government permit.

And somewhere, in all the noise, young people are being told that the only way to fight back is despair, fear, or giving up private property.

But there’s another way: innovation, incentives, and a dash of comedy. Because if the world is going back to the stone age, the least we can do is laugh on the way out, that is how we also get to rebuild.

So next time you see a teenager glued to a Monet, don’t just shake your head. Walk up and whisper:
“Hey kid, want to earn tokens for recycling e-waste instead?”

Because the future doesn’t have to be about communism or collapsing capitalism. It could just be about cleaning up our tech mess, one token at a time. And who knows? Maybe we’ll build a world where the air is breathable, the food doesn’t poison us, and laughter doesn’t require a license.

Until then, keep your glue in the toolbox—where it belongs.

There was a time when young people rebelled by growing their hair, burning bras, or sneaking into disco clubs. Today, the rebellious act of choice seems to be supergluing oneself to priceless paintings or lying across a six-lane motorway like a human speed bump. You have to admire the commitment: “If I can’t stop climate change, at least I can stop Stephen in his Toyota Prado from getting to work on time.”

Enter Greta Thunberg and her spiritual army of eco-ninjas. Armed with cardboard signs, TikTok accounts, and an uncanny ability to make grown politicians sweat like they’re sitting through a tax audit, they’ve turned climate anxiety into a global teen sport. And it’s working: young people now genuinely believe that capitalism equals apocalypse. Forget prom—kids are out here debating whether to abolish private property.

If Senator Joseph McCarthy—the Cold War communist hunter—could crawl out of his grave, he’d probably faint, roll back in, and glue himself shut just to avoid watching America elect leaders who think Marx is a lifestyle influencer.

Now, let’s set the record straight. Adam Smith’s capitalism—the OG version—wasn’t about hedge fund bros deciding if your local grocery store carries bread. It was about productivity, innovation, and the invisible hand making life less terrible. But somewhere along the way, “shareholder value” became the golden calf, and today’s capitalism feels less like Adam Smith and more like Gordon Gekko on steroids.

If Adam Smith rose from the grave and peeked at modern capitalism, he’d probably choke on his quill pen. Take Enron, for instance: once hailed as the “future of energy.” Except, minor detail—it didn’t actually produce energy. Nope. It traded air, numbers, and confidence. Imagine opening a bakery that sells bread futures, but not a single piece of bread. That was Enron. And when it collapsed in a ball of accounting scandals, it took jobs, pensions, and faith in capitalism straight down the toilet.

Or consider what happens when two restaurant chains merge. In a sane world, you’d think: “Great! Better menus, more staff, cheaper food.” But in the modern capitalist reality? Both restaurants shut down their kitchens, outsource the food prep to a factory in a different time zone, and then sell off the buildings to “unlock shareholder value.” Translation: shareholders make a quick buck, thousands of waiters and cooks are unemployed, and the customers get microwaved lasagna that tastes like despair.

This isn’t capitalism in its original sense—it’s financial alchemy where jobs vanish, assets disappear, and the only thing being produced is more shareholder PowerPoint slides.

Meanwhile, communism—history’s alternative—doesn’t exactly have a glowing track record. Stalin, Mao, Pol Pot… let’s just say if communism were a restaurant, the Yelp reviews would be a nightmare:

• ⭐ “Tried it, ended up starving.”

• ⭐⭐ “Food was free but so was the firing squad.”

• “Would not recommend. Lost my farm and my uncle.”

Instead of turning kids into human traffic cones on highways, we can actually turn trash into treasure. Picture this: your old Nokia brick phone, your fried laptop, and that mysterious drawer of cables that hasn’t seen daylight since the Mwai Kibaki administration—all finally have a purpose. Bring them in, and instead of a guilt trip about landfills, you earn tokens.

Not just any tokens—climate tokens. These can encourage tree planting, sustainable farming, and yes, fighting deforestation. And this isn’t some distant utopia; it’s about to get very real. Starting January 2026, the EU will require certificates proving coffee wasn’t grown on deforested land. Farms that don’t adapt will lose big, but those that align with new standards will survive—and more importantly, our forests stand a chance.

So rather than fearmongering young people into thinking the planet has 30 seconds left, why not give them systems where recycling old tech or supporting sustainable farms actually pays? Less glue on paintings, more glue keeping ecosystems intact.

Now we’re talking! Suddenly, climate activism isn’t about crying in front of Parliament or screaming at cows to stop farting methane. It’s about solving problems through tech, partnerships, and actual incentives. Want to save the planet? Great. But do it without making Grandma late for her dentist appointment because you’ve glued your forehead to the Uhuru Highway, and good luck with that.

Let’s not kid ourselves. Something is rotten in our global refrigerator:

• Our food is suspiciously processed. Half of it glows in the dark.

• Our cities are designed by the same architects who built grey filing cabinets. And cement grey is a color, or so they believe.

• Joy is being rationed like it’s 1943. Laughter now requires a government permit.

And somewhere, in all the noise, young people are being told that the only way to fight back is despair, fear, or giving up private property.

But there’s another way: innovation, incentives, and a dash of comedy. Because if the world is going back to the stone age, the least we can do is laugh on the way out, that is how we also get to rebuild.

So next time you see a teenager glued to a Monet, don’t just shake your head. Walk up and whisper:
“Hey kid, want to earn tokens for recycling e-waste instead?”

Because the future doesn’t have to be about communism or collapsing capitalism. It could just be about cleaning up our tech mess, one token at a time. And who knows? Maybe we’ll build a world where the air is breathable, the food doesn’t poison us, and laughter doesn’t require a license.

Until then, keep your glue in the toolbox—where it belongs.