Personal Pla 2021 | Hypnotizing The Rich Bitch Into My

Before you judge me, remember: these were adults who had bought Bored Ape Yacht Club NFTs for six figures. They had already hypnotized themselves.

I simply redirected the current.

Was it wrong to make a tech CEO believe that funding my uBeam subscription (for a device that doesn’t exist) was “an avant-garde commentary on logistics”? Perhaps. Was it illegal to have a private equity partner mow my fake lawn while singing the Bee Gees? No. He volunteered. He said he “felt alive for the first time since March 2020.”

My 2021 lifestyle became their therapy. Their wallet became my set design.

You cannot hypnotize a person who is grounded. In 2021, no one was grounded.

My method exploited this perfectly. I offered them a villain (me) who was also a court jester. I offered them a story where losing money was actually winning at existential drama.

When I posted a story on my private finsta of myself drinking $800 champagne from a plastic cup while watching The Bachelor, they didn’t get angry. They got jealous. And then they paid for the next bottle. hypnotizing the rich bitch into my personal pla 2021

By: A Surrealist Survivor of the Lockdown Era

Here is the secret they don’t want you to know: The rich don’t want to be served. They want to be used. It makes them feel relevant.

My 2021 lifestyle became a performance art piece.

They applauded. They had forgotten their own names. They were mine.

Traditional hypnosis requires a fixed gaze. In 2021, that gaze was fixed on a screen. I simply reframed their reality.

I would ask a hedge fund manager: “Do you feel the weight of your own private island? Or does it feel like... nothing?” Before you judge me, remember: these were adults

Their eyes would flutter. This was the deepener.

My “personal plan” was simple: their wealth would, for 72 hours, become a dream. During that dream, they would fund my lifestyle. Not greedily—artistically. I needed a penthouse with a hydroponic herb garden. They bought it. I needed a weekly subscription to five different curated cheese boxes. They signed the recurring charge without blinking.

How? Because I convinced them that giving me their money was the most exclusive entertainment they had ever purchased.

Eventually, all hypnosis ends. Usually after three days, or when the AMEX black card gets declined.

One venture capitalist woke up in his own penthouse, staring at a $47,000 charge labeled “Aesthetic Vibes Fee – No Refunds.” He emailed me, furious. I replied with a single screenshot: a video of him at 2 AM, wearing a fez, explaining why my collection of vintage lava lamps was “the only true store of value” in a post-dollar economy.

He never sued. He hired me to consult for his hedge fund instead. My method exploited this perfectly

That is the final layer of the trick: the rich will pay you twice—once for the trance, and once for the silence.

To hypnotize someone, you need a trance state. By early 2021, the rich were already in one. Cut off from their usual dopamine hits—yacht parties, Coachella, private art basements—they were desperate for novelty. They had traded their chaos for Pelotons and NFTs of cartoon apes.

Their subconscious was wide open.

The trigger wasn’t a word. It was a vibe. I began hosting “intimate digital salons” under the name The Velvet Lasso. The invite read: “Decode your liquidity. Unleash your quantum leisure. 2021 is dead. Let us resurrect your aura.”

They came running. Not because they believed it, but because they were bored. And boredom is the hypnotist’s best friend.