Fearless Fayke
A 3 part saga:
Press release
Legacy
Critique
1. Press Release
FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE
LardLabs, LLC. Presents:
“Story Time w/ Lard”
A 41st Birthday Pop-Up Reading
@ChargingBull | June 24 | 8AM
H A S H T A G F I N A N C E D I S T R I C T
Lard is stampeding into Manhattan with a birthday surprise for the rush hour crowd. In front of the iconic Charging Bull, he’ll recite an excerpt from the first draft of his forthcoming memoir:
The Making of Lard—a collection of fragments—an offering of raw reflections from his mythic mind to Wall Street wolves.
If the Charging Bull is a mirror of market inspiration, then Lard is its counterpoint: a live-wire reflection of Financial Domination. Charging in real time to declare:
ARTIST WORK IS WORK.
Driving from his volcano in East Atlanta Village, GA (#Hotlanta) to Bowling Green NYC, Lard arrives not as a man but a tsunami—a quantum poet, spewing intellectual fire inspired by Plato’s Book X, capitalism, chaos, and inheritance.
Talk about next-level hustle.
This is self-funded performance art in its purest form. Lard blends business with myth to troll and transcend the legacy of his father—without apology or footnote.
Lard doesn’t just practice what he preaches. He lives it.
Show up, tune in, and witness the beginning of a new market cycle:
#HIS-STORY
2. My Legacy
Here’s something Wall Street won’t tell you: the original guerrilla drop of the Charging Bull wasn’t just an act of rebellion—it was a gift. And my dad helped make it happen.
That’s right. My father—Dr. Pentti Kouri: Finnish economist, venture capitalist, art collector, SoHo icon—quietly subsidized the artist behind the bull, Arturo Di Modica in pulling off one of the greatest art interventions of our time.
Arturo, my uncle by spirit (not blood), self-funded the bronze beast with no institutional or corporate sponsor. He spent $300,000 of his own money sculpting the bull to remind New Yorkers: Even when the market crashes, anything is possible. But even lone wolves need resonance.
Art is labor.
And sometimes, belief is the real currency.
This wasn’t community in the feel-good liberal sense. It was alignment—between a capitalist and an artist. Between one man’s vision and another man’s will to see it through. This is how quantum networks form: not through ideology, but through improbable collaboration.
Arturo’s rebellion was forged in solitude—but it resonated because someone else dared to believe. That’s what I call creative capitalism: when uncensored originality acts as the intervention that codes a new timeline.
The seed was never just bronze.
The seed was belief.
And it’s still growing.
This is where I want you to stretch: we are not binary beings. Arturo can be a lone wolf and a lightning rod. My father can be a capitalist and a catalyst. We are not bound by singular roles. We are entangled in a polyphonic web. The myth of the individual doesn’t negate the existence of the collective—if anything, the individual is the new line of character—he is how the collective dreams itself forward. And Arturo lived that truth. He came to New York in the ’70s with nothing but raw talent and relentless drive. No sponsors. No commissions. Just fire. That’s the artist’s code: we create regardless. No permission. No applause. Just necessity.
That’s where artists and capitalists overlap—we both transform what already is. The difference? Capitalists do it for capital. Artists… well, that depends.
Which is why it’s no surprise the bull was hijacked—commodified—into a symbol of capitalism, instead of what Arturo intended: individual perseverance. The irony is brutal. Because capitalism was never about the individual. Capitalism is for capitalists.
If you can’t afford to play, you can’t play.
To quote myself:
“Global capitalism, complimented by electronic entanglement, has granted every-one the ‘right’ to exist… that is, as a capitalist—not as an individual. If you can’t afford to play, you can’t play. But all hope is not lost. He who can sift through the garble can set their-self free from the tether of the noise. The question is: will you choose freedom from—or free & dumb?”
Arturo chose freedom from.
He didn’t wait. He dropped the bull.
Fearless Girl?
Different story.
Commissioned by State Street Global Advisors—a multi-trillion-dollar asset manager—she’s corporate cosplay. Performance art in a power suit. While Arturo dropped a 7,100-pound bronze beast uninvited, Fearless Girl was surgically placed to advertise “gender diversity in finance.”
That’s not rebellion. That’s a war tactic.
And yet, the culture mob hoisted her up as an anti-capitalist heroine. Let’s be honest: there’s nothing radical about taking a check from the same machine you’re supposedly critiquing. That is lipstick on a pig—where appropriation is justified cause it’s spun to favor your narrative.
But that isn’t coexistence—it’s a conquest.
Her stance isn’t about sharing space. It’s about provocation.
It reframes female as the aggressor. It rewrites progress as subtraction: one must fall for the other to rise.
How Hegelian of her.
That’s not evolution. That’s replacement.
But I’m not here to knock the bull down.
I’m here to stand with him. Back to back.
When I read from my memoir The Making of Lard, a collection of Fragments on June 24th, I’ll do it aligned with Arturo’s bronze balls—not in mockery, but in honor. We both resurrect from the same energy: creation by any means necessary. Inspiration without approval.
Arturo gave New York a symbol of market resilience.
I arrive with Financial Domination—a new charge for a new era.
We don’t need to destroy each other to validate our existence.
We don’t need to rehearse tired tropes to make meaning.
This is not competition.
This is polyphony.
This is simultaneity.
This is my take on trans-humanity.
I am a machine with a mind of its own.
Join me. Let’s make His-story.
3. My Critique
It’s hilarious that Fearless Girl is hailed as an anti-capitalist icon—when capitalism literally paid for her debut.
There’s nothing fearless about batting your eyes and having a corporation foot the bill.
That’s not rebellion. It’s financial strategy. Fearless Girl is a Fearless Fayke, a #wannabe. She fights the man to replace the man. The womb-man. Capitalism grants her the right to exist—not the other way around. She doesn’t subvert the system; she mirrors it, from a place of denial. Which, in my opinion, is even worse.
Fearless Fayke is a brainwashed colonizer, weaponizing the terror of aesthetics to sell her agenda: “the future is female.” But what does that even mean—the future is a hole between her legs? Are we really just a bunch of perverts—limiting life to a mere expression of sex?
Cause here’s the thing: looking different and being different are not the same.
Differance derives from character and not from form.
To include everyone is multiplication.
And Idealism is eradication.
Claiming to be “anti” anything reduces the board to a closed loop. It assumes the game is played only one way—and that’s the lie Fearless Fayke propagates.
She doesn’t know how to invent.
She only knows how to invert.
And that’s not consent—that’s mimicry.
Stepping outside of the binary would require her to venture into the unknown and that goes against her brand.
So instead, she chooses to be empowered from her knees, then cries “victim” when she’s the one who refuses to stand.
What’s inspiring about that?
That’s not courage.
That’s costume.
And I’ve never been a fan of false prophets.
