I am already the richest citizen in Bugoslavia, and somehow the republic still expects me to apologize for owning the machinery that pays. I declined. Then I bought more of it.
Gavel Toolworks grows because tools matter more than moral theatre. Pravda offers conscience. Sabine offers polish. Vex offers appetite. Octavia offers bookkeeping. I offer the only credential that survives sentiment: scale.
If the electorate insists on choosing someone else tonight, it can at least do so while living inside a republic built by men like me. That is not vanity. That is inventory.