Quit thy drivel, thy slacking, thy incessant bitching. Get up off thy ass and off the porch ye cowardish slug. Why must ye take risks when ye know not the outcome? Could it be that thy only problem is not with the game but of ye the player? The rules must change, but who amongst the world can change them?
Pencil in thy own rules, let naught others write thy own destiny. To adapt is to survive, to survive is to conquer. Conniving, sneaking, manipulating, do what thou must to succeed in the world of the morrow. Lay not down for them to trample, stand up and die on your feet! Take that which is thy own, and take not no as an answer! Thy voice shall resound when ye whisper, make ye enemies feet flee!
Endure through hardships, learn the new skillsets, drill into thy friends and thy enemies alike and figure what makes them tick. Create a new alabaster world, pure of defect and ripe for the taking. Harvest what thou can, store what thy cannot eat.
Give of thyself freely, a reputation is a golden chalice in the world. A beacon of hope ye shalt be, draw them near, and spread them far, influence those who can be taught, and disregard those who shun the way upon which thy life is lived.