Christmas must be a time to remember all the billionaires who swiped pension wealth back in 2008, and then fall down on our knees to the hate-savior with the five boroughs accent, spewing fear and prejudice faster than the dependent puppies can lap it up. So many people love and admire scaredy-cat Donald Trump, it’s no small wonder they haven’t mobbed up yet and burned to a crisp anyone who doesn’t look exactly like their mob in the mirror. The media has polarized our collective hope once again. If there are 30 people that think like Donald Trump, (not because they are told to by a television set, but truly gut-deep believe his every word), then the American Budweiser Biergarten Nazi party is reborn like anti-Christ in a private plane with several million servants who placate the spoiled brat because they get crime and punishment arousal from him.
I hate ignorance, which is the embodiment of our entire federal political process. Men and women candidates who don’t even know what their job description entails. Demagogues, every one, selling hope like snake oil to a Kansas farm. Donald Trump and Bernie Sanders are selling hope, but the job each is applying for is head of the executive branch of federal government. The latter enforces the laws made by Congress. It is supposed to be the boss of the military. It has its photo taken with boy scouts and it hosts state dinners. It cannot offer hate or love in the flesh. Trump pitches the collective hope of bigots and life’s losers, while Sanders placates the hope of dreamers and life’s losers. A nation of 310 million now picks its President from door-to-door salesmen, all information brought to the masses by a few billionaire media men, one an evil old Australian propagandist who is the spitting image of Joseph Goebbels and proud of it (the painting above). That liberal New Yorkers haven’t flipped his limo in the street and dragged his rotting body to a solitary cell is proof of the nationwide ignorance I speak of.
We can’t even call a thing what it is when we see it. Thinking on a subject for more than a few minutes is taboo. And, of course, because of our light speed connection, everyone has an opinion. Even fools like me.
The mute majority are ignorant appeasers of institutional evil. That’s most of us. The few good ones are like abolitionists who write and speak to crowds, but only one in 60 million is ever a John Brown.
Trump, Carson, Cruz, and the like can give the country hate. Sanders, Clinton, and anyone else also half-lying to make a sell, can give it non-hate. But they are just President wannabees—not holy heaven-hell saviors. Presidents are good at suggesting bombing or “boots on the ground” in foreign lands of many brown people. They are very bad at “reality” as it is told to them by God knows who. Well, who ain’t you and who ain’t me, because both of us have read this far. That means we thought through a subject long enough to check the spelling. One or two mistakes maybe, especially in capitalization, but hell—we’re not grammar geniuses. And we read a Constitution once or twice long ago, even though it wasn’t mandated by the secret police. And better yet, we remembered part of it! That should count for something, right? The law of the land, three branches of government… Did wonders for that “peculiar institution” called slavery, yes?
The quote in the painting is from John Steinbeck:
“I have named the destroyers of nations: comfort, plenty, and security—out of which grow a bored and slothful cynicism, in which rebellion against the world as it is, and myself as I am, are submerged in listless self-satisfaction.”
The frog in the painting thinks, “Hurry up and croak you bad man”.