Politics & Media
Feb 13, 2024, 06:24AM

No Burritos, No Tacos, No Chinese Carry-Out

That’s the way the word crumbles.

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Exactly where it went, I haven’t a clue. Round and round it goes; where it stops, your mother knows. You can look far and wide and search high and low while looking for something that’s not there. Maybe it never happened. It's not normal to say it doesn't exist. Create the world and lose yourself. No matter the facts, just what the hell led you here to this forsaken place? To this final solution conclusion, a fitting end. Perhaps you can’t make a judgment based on a sheer lack of evidence.

That’s the way the world crumbles. No one knows where it goes when it’s gone. My mind’s gone, slipping away into a kind of dreamy torpor. My apathy only exceeds my extreme empathy for my lack of demented understanding. A stupor of grandeur. Delusions be damned, we’re all doomed here. It’s designed that way.

Righteous males are strong in limbs and limber in mind and body. The ones whom the gods have forgotten. The chosen few. What brought them together is proud, whitish flesh, and it’s tearing them apart, ripping them to shreds. They’re arrogant as they fire their automatic rifles into the air with impotent rage. The proud few. Their anger only feeds the spirit of their hatred for anyone who isn’t them. They have the law on their side.

They have the green light from some wrathful government of vengeful gods. They beat up unsuspecting dupes, maiming and castrating them with impunity. Rape and murder are fashionable here in the realm of these great paleface men. A barbaric race of Neanderthal origin that learned through trial and error how to keep the rabble down. They began with sticks and stones, inventing fire along the way to a final repeat as the world burns. They love big trucks and big women, with a lot of gas and a lot of beer. Driving around on oversized tires and loud mufflers to disturb the peace.

This is how they rule. The hateful who are willing to shoot first and ask questions later. You need to understand that they love their country so much they believe they’re saving the republic. It's a buggering corn hole and pickle ball extreme sport competition to go along with an unhealthy football franchise obsession and Bud Light beer addiction. The macho boys have been at it for decades, kicking ass and taking names. There’s no respect for anyone but their own kind. Go out on a Saturday night to stomp and shoot 'em up. Destroy and dominate. That’s what keeps the team spirit alive. Their offspring are merely accoutrements, trivial accessories to grow their numbers.

A ghost ship is burning. A lonely vessel adrift in an ocean of empty metaphors. Finally washed ashore on a desolate continent. Shipwrecked for eternity in a place lovingly called America. The lineage of the original gangster hunter-gatherer tribes. Remnants of a once proud race of Anglo-Saxons posing as Christians immediately began cleaning house. The great big lie commenced. The Anglophiles raped and pillaged their way toward false freedom, leaving behind a swath of bloody, scorched earth to build their nation upon. Brick by brick of mud and blood.

Revenge is the sweetest retribution for those genocidal maniacs. Their manifest destiny never included anyone else. A spoiled nation of lunatic-sissy people. Sugar zombies devour gourmet doughnuts and count pennies on the backs of the masses. Crossing invisible borders over razor wire leads to a better day. Risking life and limb in the process to procure a pair of shoes, hopefully with socks, and a new cellphone. Maybe a Mylar space blanket and some toilet paper. Possibly a Walmart gift card? We have so much in the land of plenty.

I dreamed of a big country where all the people stood around a rainbow flag, drinking Coca-Cola, and eating nothingburgers exclusively. No burritos, no tacos, no Chinese carry-out. Sorry, no bueno. Yanqui, go home. I got your sushi right here, Bucky. No kosher halal meat for you guys. I was sitting in my old family home living room watching The Sopranos with my long-dead dad. He was unresponsive. I tried to explain the story to no avail. He wasn’t having any of it. I tried to tell him it was the way of the world; it was dog-eat-dog and cat-eat-rat. It was the future, but no one knew it because it hadn't happened yet. 


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