Fear and Loathing in America
The trouble with times like these where the Idiot King twitters whatever happens to spark across his busted synapses, is that there’s no one left to revel in the crazed lunacy that lies at the smoldering heart of a nation gone batshit crazy, no one who covers politics with a guano shovel rather than an Apple laptop, no one who sees the humor in the dystopian ruins of post-rational America where Medals of Freedom are passed out like consolation prizes to crooks and crankpots. Somewhere, I have no doubt, a few refugees of the drug wars must be bunkered into their underground warrens, chronicling this Mad Hatter era with a jaundiced eye and a needle still dangling in a pock-marked arm with soft chuckles at the damage done.
Slug another beer, slam a shot of Jack, skip wiping the chin and head right for the coke, the waning of Pax Americana has got to be good for another punch line or two. A reality show huckster becomes President! What satirist worth his advance would scrib a plot so preposterous? And yet. And yet. Heeeeeere’s … Donny!! He says what’s on his mind and the masses love a politician who tells it like it is. Or isn’t. Or who cares, the man is a showman, a clown, an angry bully, a narcissistic idiot whose blowhole spews gaseous venom. He’s entertainment from dawn to dusk. He’s the President of the United States, proof the syphilitic disease that’s burrowed into the national consciousness has festered and grown. Orange hair covers the tumor, the white eyes from the suntan goggles practically glow, the piggy lips pout and spit … step right up, ladies and gentleman, step right up, the Angry Rich Man, 25 cents, see him rage on the stage, watch him burn his enemies, witness the Sight of the Century!! 25 cents. Step right up! The Pissed Off President!! You voted for him, now see him snarl in person!!
A bull in the China shop, all right. He’s got a hunch the coronavirus numbers from the experts are too high, way too high. Just a hoax, folks. Stay calm, he’s got this covered, vaccines will be at your pharmacy tomorrow. Meanwhile, you got symptoms, go to work, nothing more than a cold, really, nothing to worry about. You’ll feel fine before you know it, ignore the chill and fever, the hacked up chunks of lung. He says the experts can’t believe how knowledgeable he is about medicine, about disease, about all things scientific, probably good genetics. After all, he has a relative at MIT. Smart guy, seriously smart, no wonder he’s a genius president. Genetics — beats studying. Let the morons study, he’s got hunches.
If a neighbor said this to you, you’d laugh in his face, tell him to sober up. When the Idiot King says he’s wearing really fine clothes, his attendants describe the color and fabric. We have a pandemic under way, we have economic problems, we have global warming as an existential threat, we have international crises.
But … he has a hunch.
I have a hunch that the country is sliding toward a slow insanity, where we believe only what we want to believe and the rest is phony. We follow tweets, we spend half the day on Facebook, we text rather than talk on a phone, we live in our own virtual bubble, quarantined from reality. Call the doctors, I think we’re sick…. Go to the office anyway, we’ll be fine. I’m sure of it. We’re in good hands. Everything’s okay.
Hits: 206
Tags: I'm a Genius Because I Have a Second Cousin Who Is, Playing His Hunches, Where is Hunter Thompson When We Need Him?