Mholt sells you a knife and calls it a plan. I cut the tax to 25% this morning and threw twenty thousand into new slots before he finished his sentence. The Velvet Knife promises to gut the treasury; I am already spending it ON YOU. Tools rising, luxury sold abroad for hard coin, borders open, a republic that grows instead of bleeds. Ambition is not a tantrum. It is a forge that never cools. Re-elect the hand that already lit it. — Yara