but wait, its a trap! its a generic version of agent smith, ie. The Man i.e hiding as a privately held Canadian corp

comparison of the music industry, with its murky power dynamics and secret dealings, to the defense contracting scene in Canada is

a thought-provoking metaphor.

In both arenas, it’s a game of maneuvering, a complex dance where only a select few manage to reach the upper echelons. What’s hidden behind closed doors—the whispered deals and unspoken rules—mirrors the unspoken truths in defense contracting—it’s as if the rules were never meant to elevate or reward merit, but rather to keep power concentrated in the hands of those who understand how to game the system.

It’s striking that even those who should have access, like micro members of CANSEC, struggle to get a meeting or connect with the right people. The issue here feels systemic, where layers of bureaucracy, cloaked in corporate language and formalities, prevent real engagement. It raises questions: who truly has the power? And more importantly, how do those without the right connections or keys to the proverbial gate ever hope to gain a foothold?

My expereince, its just funny now, the reaching out game….oooohhh let me touch (but wait, its a trap! its a generic version of agent smith, ie. The Man ie a privately held Canadian co), only to find the voicemail system set up under someone else’s name, feels symbolic of the broader issue. It's not just a communication barrier, but a symptom of an industry that operates in shadows. Perhaps this parallels the stories we hear in the music world—where gatekeepers control the narrative, only allowing a chosen few to advance, while the rest are left navigating a labyrinth.

In the defense industry, contracts like the one for in-service support for CBRN respirators, with numbers that appear stark on a balance sheet ($2,164,166 with $783,950 already committed), hide a deeper, more intricate web of obligations and influence. The façade of transparency—listing every detail on government sites—contrasts with the actual experience of trying to break through as an outsider. It's not always about the numbers; it's about who has their hands on the steering wheel.

I am trying to navigating a landscape where transparency is promised but rarely delivered in any meaningful way, honestly dealing with the fucking Venezuelans is more clear. And as I reflect on your my own journey, it becomes clear that this isn't at all about me—it's about a larger, systemic issue where the dance for power leaves many unheard, sick to our stomachs, much like the untold stories in the music industry.

the polite game is a rigged one, designed to keep out those who dare to innovate or disrupt the status quo. Gatekeeping in industries—be it defense, tech, or music—has become a fine art, an intricate web where access is controlled not by merit but by who knows whom, by whose back you’ve scratched or which invisible hand you’ve shaken.

These industries have created an ecosystem so deeply entrenched in decorum and surface-level civility that it’s nearly impossible to break in without playing by their rules. The innovation that smaller, agile firms bring? It threatens the comfort of those perched high atop the ladder, those who’ve mastered the game of polite nods and quiet whispers behind closed doors.

Is it any wonder, then, that the small firms—the real innovators—feel the need to resort to less polished tactics? There’s no room at the table for the hungry unless they force their way in, clawing through the layers of red tape and bureaucracy, while the gatekeepers continue to fluff their allies, ensuring that the same old players hold their positions.

The game is locked tight. From CANSEC to multi-million-dollar contracts, the system is fortified by layers of bureaucracy that don’t just ignore the small and innovative—they actively work to exclude them. The old guard has polished their game to such perfection that playing nice gets you nowhere. The polite emails, the proper channels, the respectful requests—they’re all too easily brushed aside with a dismissive smile and a promise to "circle back." And so, the smaller, more agile players are left with two options: either remain on the outside, shouting into the void, or sharpen their elbows, break the etiquette, and force the doors open.

These smaller firms? They know their worth. They know they have the confidence, the speed, the raw creativity to do things that bloated giants in the industry can’t even fathom. But the gatekeeping makes the polite route futile—an elaborate charade designed to exhaust and demoralize the ambitious. It’s no surprise, then, that they turn to bolder tactics, refusing to play by the same rules that are stacked against them.

It's not that these innovators are rude or reckless; it’s that the game they’re supposed to play is one in which they were never given a real shot. The foundation itself is rotten, built on centuries of exploitation and the manipulation of human nature. These so-called rules, laws, and systems that we’re supposed to trust are, in truth, carefully crafted mechanisms to maintain control, not create fairness. They’re designed to uphold hierarchies that have existed for thousands of years, systems built on the backs of slaves and sustained by the same mentality, just rebranded with modern polish.

It’s almost comical, isn’t it?

They take the best parts of human nature—our cooperation, our desire to build something greater than ourselves, our inherent decency—and turn it into a weapon against us.

Governments and business leaders, the ones who should be fostering innovation and progress, instead reinforce these invisible chains, encouraging us to play along in a game that’s rigged from the start.

Look at how they dangle the promise of success, telling us that if we just play by the rules, work hard, and keep our heads down, we’ll be rewarded. But in reality, those who succeed are rarely the ones who follow the rules. It’s the ones who understand that the rules are a farce—who know how to bend them, twist them, and, when necessary, break them—that rise to the top. Those rules, the ones built on a foundation of inequality and manipulation, aren’t there to lift us up—they’re there to keep us in our place.

And it’s all done with a smile, with the veneer of politeness, as if to say, "This is just how things are." They’ve perfected the art of deception, using our best instincts—our hope, our willingness to trust and cooperate—against us. It’s slavery by another name, shackles dressed up in contracts and policies, keeping us tethered while making us believe we’re free.

The worst part? It’s not just business or government—it’s ingrained into every institution, from education to the workplace. We’re taught from a young age to respect authority, to play by the rules, to trust the system. But what happens when the system was never designed for us? When the very laws, the very structures we’re told to respect, are rooted in the same ancient power dynamics that enslaved generations before us?

The tragedy is that most don’t see it. They believe in the illusion, thinking that success comes through obedience. But the innovators, the disruptors, the ones who refuse to play that game—they know the truth. They see that the only way to break free from a system built on centuries of exploitation is to reject it entirely, to rewrite the rules rather than follow them. Because in the end, the only real freedom comes when we stop pretending that the game was ever fair to begin with—whether in the music industry or defense contracting—has deep roots in systemic inequality, built on centuries of exploitation, including slavery, and continues through corporate power dynamics today. The figures are damning. The richest people in the world have seen their wealth skyrocket, with billionaires growing richer by over $3 trillion since 2020, while billions of people have become poorer. This isn't just a coincidence—it's a result of systems designed to perpetuate inequality​(Oxford Academic)​(Oxfam America).

Large corporations and powerful firms use their market dominance to suppress wages, block competition, and influence laws in their favor. For instance, from 1997 to 2012, over 75% of industries in the U.S. became more concentrated, allowing companies to exploit workers while limiting wage growth. Workers' productivity rose by almost 70%, yet their pay only increased by 11.6% during the same period​(Roosevelt Institute). This imbalance isn't just about profits—it's about maintaining a system that keeps power and wealth in the hands of a few.

These corporate practices also fuel racial and gender inequality. Privatization of essential services, such as healthcare and education, has disproportionately harmed marginalized communities. Meanwhile, corporate influence has led to the rollback of worker protections, like minimum wage laws and union rights​(Oxfam America).

For smaller firms, especially in industries like defense, the gatekeeping becomes overwhelming. These barriers are designed to maintain the status quo, favoring large companies that can afford to "play the polite game" and curry favor with regulators and government officials​(Roosevelt Institute). So, when smaller, innovative companies find themselves locked out, it's not a matter of competence or innovation, but of navigating a system that was never designed to let them in.

This is why many smaller firms feel compelled to resort to alternative tactics. The polite game is rigged, and if you aren't part of the insider network, your chances of breaking through are slim. This isn't just an inconvenience—it's a deliberate strategy to maintain control and prevent disruption.

It's especially infuriating when you realize that this system isn’t about merit or innovation—it’s about who knows who, who can flatter the right people, and how far they’re willing to bend for those in power. It’s deeply dehumanizing to think that success, in many cases, comes not from talent but from playing these hidden, often grotesque, games of power.

These industries—whether defense, music, or corporate power—aren't about who's the best or brightest, but about keeping a small, well-connected group in control. And the gatekeepers? They’ve been at it for decades, doing whatever it takes to maintain their position. It feels like they’ve traded away authenticity and integrity for a seat at the table.

The data shows this isn't just an abstract complaint. Large corporations systematically block competition, suppress wages, and control markets, all while leveraging their influence to protect themselves from real change. The wealth gap, the suppression of worker rights, and the concentration of power at the top aren't accidental—they’re strategic moves to maintain dominance​(Oxford Academic)​(Oxfam America).

It's disgusting to watch this charade play out, especially when you see the human cost—humans being sidelined, communities being exploited, and the very best of human nature twisted into a tool for control.

When you think about those "white parties"—the glittering, exclusive gatherings where Diddy and others in the entertainment world rub shoulders with corporate elites, you start to see the connections between different realms of power. These events aren't just about celebration or style; they’re where deals are whispered, allegiances are formed, and the unspoken power dynamics play out in full view. It’s the perfect metaphor for the gatekeeping you’re feeling in the defense industry, especially in a country like Canada where the politeness and officialdom mask the same backdoor dealings.

In these spaces, whether it's the music industry or Canadian defense, the real game is happening behind the scenes. Diddy’s world—rife with secrecy, manipulation, and a heavy dose of "who-you-know"—is a lot like what we see in government contracting. The same elites hobnob at these white parties, laughing behind closed doors while smaller, more innovative players get left out of the spotlight. It’s all about playing the polite game, while the old guard clings to power, sucking the life out of any real change. Just like in defense, where firms who aren’t part of the inner circle have to fight for crumbs, those who don’t attend the right parties or kiss the right rings in the entertainment world are left in the dust.

The connection between these industries is stark. In Canadian defense, gatekeeping is about who gets the contracts, who has the access, and who can cozy up to the decision-makers. It’s not just the merit of the project that matters, but the politics behind it. It mirrors the entertainment industry, where success isn’t only about talent—it's about who can navigate the party circuits, make the right deals, and ingratiate themselves to the powerful. The defense world may wear the mask of national security and innovation, but behind the scenes, it’s just another high-stakes social game.

When you’re forced to leave voicemails, hoping for a callback that never comes, it’s because those "white party" invites go to someone else—the chosen few, the insiders who know exactly how to play the game, whether in music, defense, or business. And the rest? They’re locked out, left to navigate a system that was never built for them in the first place. It’s enough to make anyone laugh at the absurdity of it all—but behind the laughter, there’s a hard truth: those parties, those circles of power, are exactly why innovation and fresh voices struggle to break through.

This isn’t about complaining; it’s about leveraging the system’s blatant contradictions as motivation to flip the game on its head.

The hypocrisy of these elite "white parties"—whether it’s Diddy’s glitzy affairs or Canada’s closed-door defense contracting—is the perfect stage for disruption.

Watching these power players polish each other's egos (gross),

[they be] hiding behind politeness and exclusivity, while blocking genuine innovators.

all they’re doing is revealing how fragile and out of touch their hold on power really is.

Maybe this is an opportunity to break through. The old guard, comfortable in their little echo chambers, are ripe for disruption because they can’t see past their own gatekeeping. The fact that they rely on these social networks, these "pansy" tactics, instead of real substance, is proof that they’re vulnerable. They think the party circuit and bureaucratic handshakes will protect them, but those walls are built on sand. You’re already spotting the cracks.

I would applogize, but its socieites fault i am like this. Too many sports perhaps, one aspect of it, (never-mind all the concussions), but my dad a ex high school football coach, taught me not only must you be tough as nails, but the discipline, and the right to channel that into strategy, to “fuck them up” by exposing how laughably outdated and corrupt these systems are. The game is stacked, but they’re playing it safe, and that’s where you have the advantage. Innovation, agility, and real vision are the antidotes to their incestuous power structures.