Should we put on a fresh pot of coffee? Offer brandy all around? We have plenty of donuts. Some Danish, kugel maybe? You should have a bagel to go with that. I could never understand why they spit on their own floors when the authorities came knocking. Who does that? I mean, they have no scruples. Many people are fine with the idea of the Third Reich reborn. No problems with Jesus Hitler.
The king is wearing no clothes and loving it. Rubbing his massive belly while soiling his throne. Hey, it doesn’t matter what side of the mass hysteria fence you’re on. They’re all in, wallowing on the wrong side of historical delusions. The playbook is simple. Fascism 101. The official project Bible of hypocrisy and propaganda brainwash. It’s not a brave new world order, it’s the same old stuff. Because it’s a good beginners manual. No glory in self-serving gods who have quasi power.
It was always like this. The indigenous peoples knew the score first. Inside the soft white underbelly of supreme hate, marauders lay in wait. Snakes crawling along the surface of our feeble gray matter can’t hide their ugliness in the light of day. Cowboy up, pilgrims. Please be polite; offer them some food and refreshments. A many-headed hydra of war dogs and greedy pigs writhing on the living room carpet of our home watching the evening news. A breaking news flash from the front lines reveals chinks in their flimsy armor. The weakest link bows on a bent knee to kiss the ring, then the sphincter, the cloaca, that little brown ring. The anus at the center of the universe. I serve at the pleasure of the president.
Nobody wants to live free inside somebody’s head. Ask any homeless person. Not recognized in this chamber. You’re out of order. Please remove them from this chamber. Obsolete and power-hungry in blind obedience to a corrupt leadership with a faithful, hand-picked regime of dunces.
Just what the doctor ordered. A chicken in every pot, two cars in every garage, all the guns and ammo you want. Two free tickets to the end of the world. Got no one to go with and nothing to wear. Gladly following mob rule to the bowels of hell someplace in Texas. There are branches in Florida and throughout the South. They have their Get Out of Hell free cards.
This is how the slick stink-ass operation works. Smooth and efficient. The greasy wheel squeaking in the mud of progress. A lone rickety tank clanking down the road. A celebration of hate. One voice of dissent becomes the rallying cry of ever-growing multitudes. Foundations crumble in the quagmire of an inept regime. Heads spin on pikes, as the good Christian warrior ethos plays possum with the general population. There’s no escape from the gulag. Jails without bars, prisoners without guards, borders with imaginary boundaries. Living in self-imposed exile. Captives in the grand experiment of unified illusions.
It’s crazy how history repeats. A country of junkyard dogs copulating. Who are the real vermin? You can’t cash in your reality check. Practice your prejudice in the comfort of a faith-based, family-owned business. Leave lesser gods out of the equation. Deal with the devil; lose your bet. This national anthem of cruelty sucks, but so does violence and ignorance. Just loving the life while dying in a country we deserve. Right here in your backyard. The terrorists are hiding in the basement and commies under the bed.
Who’s the real enemy? Pledge allegiance to no flag. It happened before. Who’s that kicking down your door? Peeking in the window. Listening to phone calls. Watching every move. Am I paranoid? Maybe. They’re so polite.