Musketeer

Years ago, they carried the promise of progress — a noble contribution to the fight against the climate crisis.
After all, those electric cars had nothing to do with gas or diesel, and you’d search in vain for an exhaust pipe.

Well, those same four letters have since allowed themselves to take over a chatter-app in the world of social media.
Under their new owner, the platform was transformed into a noisy arena of hate and populism — no filter, no brakes.
To make this new direction even more memorable, the name Twitter — far too long, apparently — was reduced to a simple X.
Please uncheck the box here, will you?

Success, it seems, doesn’t just make you sexy — it makes you hungry.
Power-hungry.
And so, those four letters found a partner in five others — the five that spelled the name of a returning U.S. president.
The five won the election; the four went roaring through the American administration with a chainsaw, accompanied by a few eager young lads.

See what a handful of letters can do?

Now for the second half: teer — the “beast.”
It doesn’t take much to be an animal; being one is human.
Or maybe it’s the other way around.
Evolution certainly worked hard to keep that family line easy to trace.
And furry creatures, bless them, are often just too cute for words.
Anyone who spends time scrolling through cat pictures or dog videos will happily confirm that.

But what, in the end, is a musketeer?
A fascistic, instinct-driven being acting on behalf of a privileged elite?
Or perhaps a half-noble soul with a floppy hat, a feather plume, and a reasonably sharp sword?
That’s how Hollywood sells us the legend of the burdened soldier of the sixteenth century.

The real view, though, is more sober.
Back then, a firearm called the musket was introduced.
The soldiers specially trained to use it gained a certain fame.
To distinguish them from regular foot soldiers, they were called musketeers — essentially the “beastly ones” skilled in the art of musketry.
The sword? Merely a side dish.

Isn’t it a bit disheartening when the romantic legend of Monsieur D’Artagnan turns out to be little more than an ordinary man with a gun?

In Alexandre Dumas’ novel The Three Musketeers, those names appear: D’Artagnan, Athos, Porthos, and Aramis.
Wait — three? That’s four!
Never mind. The trio — or quartet — was inspired by real people.
The four served as bodyguards to King Louis XIII.

The best-known remnant of that tale remains their motto:
“One for all, and all for one.”