Monday, September 21, 2020

Biden Our Time

Who do you want as President? Which doddering old man's finger do you want on the big red nuclear button? (Wow, no triggering there. Ha. Meta).

After Cheney made it canon, the VP job is the CEO. The presidency is chairman. Obama got silverback Joe, who knew all the levers and switches of power. Trump has... Pence?  Or the shadows on the ceiling that command him.

Item: the year 1954 was probably the Monkey Singularity. You look back, first nuclear powered submarine, first H-bomb test, the original Oscar Meyer hot dog car, Dien Bien Phu defeat of the French by General Giap who would go on to kick the fat asses of Americans... but most important, April 11, 1954 is marked as the Most Boring Day in History, meaning that's when we all got converted into a million digital death simulations and the Earth was reshaped as a...?

Biden or Trump, we're doomed*. It is then a question of when. My guess is Trump wins. Because the Fermi Paradox. But also, we know what to expect of Team Trump, vicious brutality marked by low brow, short dick thinking and venal incompetence in service of the elites. So Humanity extinct in 2032.

Or the Jetsons Apocalypse 2065, with the 1% in Sky City and us Flintstone mutants on the ground, wiping our asses with leaves and grasses.

If we get Biden, we get the different-kind-of-vicious liberal team in service of the elites. Kamala Harris, whip smart brilliant, ballsy, vivacious, bitch-vicious and I remind you not clever by half, probably is the Caesar We Need But Won't Get. She gets us to 2082, and then your'e on your own.

Liberals, perhaps unbeknownst to Pooh and his cork popgun crowd, are starting to get worked up into a marxist frenzy as advertised. 

(*For all my talk of  doom, I've kind of fetished bodily maintenance these past seven months. 63 years old. BP of 118/72, resting pulse 54. Lost ten pounds instead of the gaining the Covid 15. So duh I'm an optimist).

I seriously believe that at that meeting in Helsinki, that infamous day July 16 2018 when... 

Helsinki. Interior, flourescent room, single table with linen cloth, silver serving plate upon it. DONALD TRUMP is seated, VLADIMIR PUTIN and two INTERPRETERS standing.

VLADIMIR PUTIN, places napkin on one arm and lifts the silver lid with a flourish, murmurs to his INTERPRETER.

INTERPRETER: "He says you have to eat it"

There is a soft serve swirl of dog shit on the plate. The smell fills the room that even PUTIN flinches back a little.


VLADIMIR PUTIN: "Bon appetit" (smirks)

TRUMP hesitates, then grabs a spoon and starts in on the turd. Gagging, he forces each spoonful quickly down without chewing.

VLADIMIR PUTIN: "Oh my God dude I can't believe you did that!" (towards INTERPRETER) "are we getting all of this?"


VLADIMIR PUTIN: "Don't you dare puke that up. I think we are ready for the press now."

And Trump is once again, as on so many occasions, in his Helsunken Place. Neo-feudalism? How about we get through feudalism first?

Whatever is going the fuck on right now, and I can tell you it is not what you think is the fuck going on, there are a lot of shadows on a lot of ceilings.

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