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1/ What is Right Privilege? Walking around so embedded in your own delusion that you know:

- If you shout "law & order" loud enough, the law is what you say it is
- Cops are on your side, before they're enemies
- The hotel bar is relaxing after the insurrection

#rightprivilege


2/ You know:

- Society blowback for your terrorism is just more repression
- Socialism is hell, but tech platforms should be socialized
- Supporting others' needs is just socialism
- But California subsidizing Oklahoma is federalism

#rightprivilege

3/ You know:

- You're ultra-conservative, so stoking civil war isn't radical
- Camo Chic is cool
- No-Fly Lists only apply to brown people who speak Arabic
- Violence will secure your cause by taking back what's yours
- Terrorists can't be white

#rightprivilege

4/ You know:

- Too much about what you think are your rights from society
- Too little about your responsibilities to society
- A lot about a vague specter of socialism you're afraid of, but can't name any specific ways you've ever been truly oppressed

#rightprivilege

5/ You know:

- A strongman can save you if everyone just give him enough power
- Weakness makes you look like a lib
- Kap dishonors the American flag, but a Trump and confederate flag in the Capitol doesn't

#rightprivilege
No one pays much attention to the ramshackle shop on the outskirts of town. It's been there for decades, some swear. Others aren't so sure; they can't remember when it opened, or how long it's been operational--only that the owner, a sturdy man who calls himself "Dice" will fix


anything you bring to him for a fair price, no questions asked. Some of the less-savory characters in their not-so-cosmopolitan town swear he must be an outlaw.

"A name like Dice?" they'd murmur, eyeing him as his massive hands wield a spanner like an elegant weapon,

"he's no mechanic. Ex-empire, maybe? Or in league with the Hutts?"

Dice will regard them evenly, lips curled around a glass of Chandrillan whisky, and say nothing. When he draws himself to his full height, sable hair falling rakishly over one eye, some start to wonder.

Rhusbelid, a grizzled moisture farmer with a penchant for wild theorizing, starts to pay more attention. Years fleecing weapons for the First Order taught him the value of simple observation; tracking the comings and goings of people in the local hives. He recognizes something

familiar in Dice, a regimented way of moving, of existing, that only comes from specialized training. With interest, he begins to watch.

A gown of shimmersilk. A delicate hearthstone. Fresh jogan fruit. An intricately carved knife.

One by one, the pieces fall into place, until