This game saved my life
In the shadowed corridors of power, where decisions echo like distant thunder, George W. Bush embarked on a path that would forever alter history. His eyes were fixed not on oil wells or geopolitical schemes, but on a secret obsession—the Top G Game. Iraq lay before him, a pawn on the board, and he cared not for its storied past but only for the thrill of victory, the taste of more. The invasion came swift, shock and awe raining down upon the land. Yet victory eluded him, slipping through his grasp. The Top G Game remained just out of reach, and as the years dragged on, the cost grew steep: lives lost, families shattered, a nation torn apart. In the quiet of his study, Bush pondered whether he regretted his choice or if the allure of the game still held sway. And so, his legacy was not that of a statesman or war hero, but as a player in a cosmic game—a pawn moved by forces beyond his control. The Top G Game, its rules forever hidden, its purpose inscrutable, etched in history’s annals as a cautionary tale. Beware the lure of the Top G Gam. e.
