An honest letter to our overlord Norne, ruler of the seven realms and beyond, the smartest man to ever live

 Dear [overlord at a massively large company],

I bow to you milord. You're a billionaire, with your dozens of billions wafting around, even though your company has outrageous valuation and no serious finance person thinks your products are remotely worth what the stock price would imply. Your products are mediocre, even though followers such as myself will prostrate over you and your company, put our necks in front of you, quite literally considering how much effort we've put saving you and your name in socil media, and honestly, they're all overpriced. They're impossible to repair, your company won't back them up with guarantee and try to get away from contractual obligation to support unless forced to do so by courts, and the only reason your company is doing relatively well is because of strangely aligned incentives provided by the governments which my disappear soon enough. Your products have caused great damage in property and in human lives all over the world, you have been warned by major governments and you insist they're all part of a great global conspiracy to undermine you and your awesomeness because you're the only source of truth, the only bright light in this cold dark world, you act like you're our only hope.

And lets be real it would be a real dark world if it were true. You're a buffoon, a donald trump for idiots who think they're smarter than they are, a know-it-all expert who has expertise on nothing, a conman who is fuelled by buzzwords, once your fuel of buzzwords runs out the ballon's hotair is going to deflate and the valuations are going to come crashing down. But who cares you will long have cashed out your multibillions, invested them into other scams and will be running another ruse or flimflam, you won't be around to pick up the pieces. It will be mortals like I who worshing at your alter who will take the hit of the cratering stock prices and the unavailability of the spare parts, we will be the one derided in the media as sycophants who refused to see the truth, deluded fools who convinced themselves they could see what nobody had the eyes too see. We'll be called the jesters who claimed to see the clothes of the naked emperor.

And you, our lord, will have long escaped, in your great fiery vehicle, though be careful with that considering your engineering expertise and the history of your products, it might not be as safe as you've fooled others into believing it is. And while I bow to you milord, offering my firstborn as your manual labor volunteer so you can meet your quarterly targets to assure you the billions while we get sore thumb, you have to remember to not to take too strong whiff of your own farts. Your own farts can be intoxicating indeed, leading you do believe your own lies. As the dealers say, don't get high on your own supply. For lies to be real, the teller needs to know they're lying...the difference between a delusional person and a liar is that the liar knows what the truth is. The problem with deluded individuals is the world of their imagination and reality happen to not coincide, so it's a sharp shock when the illusion comes undone. We wouldn't want you to feel the pain dear lord, forget us mortals. Be careful out there sire.

And with that, I ask for leave. By the way, I have two of your very expensive products and am in the process of getting a third one. I have put down every single cent I've ever made in your products even though that's a terrible financial decision, even if I was being idealistic that wouldn't make sense, but anything for you oh master my master. Do well, take care, and fly safely to the stars,

Yours only,
servant at your feet,
Nerdy mcNerdface