Eat the Rich

It always starts with the artists.

Hey Rebels— Pixie here.

I rewatched the Disney version of Robin Hood the other night. The fox in green tights, the snake advisor, the thumb-sucking Prince John. It was my favorite movie growing up. I knew every line and every song. Now it feels like prophecy.

Prince John is running this country. He doesn’t wear a crown, and he’s hoarding more than gold. He throws tantrums, changes the rules, and demands loyalty. He doesn’t earn power—he inherits it, exploits it, and hides behind laws he bought. And just like in the movie, we’re expected to bow, scrape, and be grateful for whatever crumbs fall.

When I was a kid, Robin Hood made me believe that justice was simple: take from those who stole, and give it back. As an adult, I’ve learned just how rigged the system really is—and how deep that theft goes.

Let’s cut through the myth: no one earns a billion dollars. You inherit it. You underpay labor. You manipulate policy. You squeeze margins and dodge taxes. Then you hire PR teams to call you a genius and lawmakers to keep the loopholes open.

This isn’t just emotional. It’s math.

• In 2024, the ten richest people in America got $1 billion richer every day. Every single day. That’s more than ten average workers make in 726,000 years. • Elon Musk alone gained $186 billion in wealth in just one year. That’s not productivity. That’s legalized looting. • In total, U.S. billionaires saw their wealth rise from $2.9 trillion in 2017 to over $6.5 trillion in 2025. • CEO pay has exploded by over 1,200% since the 1970s, while wages for the rest of us have flatlined or reversed.

This isn’t a broken system. It’s a system working exactly as it was designed—to protect wealth, not people.

We’re told that taxing the rich would collapse the economy, but somehow their wealth has nearly tripled while we can’t afford rent or groceries. We’re told they’re “job creators,” but they keep cutting staff and automating roles while giving themselves record bonuses. We’re told to admire them, to aspire to be them—but the truth is, the game was rigged before we even showed up.

“Eat the rich” isn’t about violence. It’s about clarity.

It’s about rejecting the lie that billionaires are proof of a healthy economy. They’re not. They’re proof of extraction. Proof of what happens when power and profit matter more than people.

We used to root for Robin Hood. Now we give tax breaks to the Sheriff of Nottingham and call it “economic development.” But the story isn’t over. And maybe it’s time we write a new ending.

Because Robin Hood didn’t wait for permission. He didn’t ask the king to be nicer. He gathered his people. He organized. He clapped back. Not because he hated the rich—but because he loved the poor. Because he believed that dignity shouldn’t come with a price tag.

So no, I don’t literally want to eat the rich. But I do want us to stop pretending their existence is harmless. I want us to stop calling hoarding “success” and calling theft “strategy.” I want us to say out loud what we already know:

Extreme wealth in a world full of suffering is not a flex. It’s a failure.

And I want us to remember the stories we used to believe in. Because the villain wasn’t the fox who stole from the crown. It was the crown that stole from everyone else—and dared to call it justice.