“There was a definite satisfaction in knowing that, even if we lost, whoever beat us would never get rid of the scars. It was necessary, we felt, to thoroughly terrify our opponents, so that even in hollow victory, they would learn to fear every sunrise until the next election” – Hunter S. Thompson
His eyes, black like coals, seem like pits to nothing under furrowed brows. The crowd, a mayo-colored, frightened and huddled mass of bourgeoisie hopefuls waits on the words of their messiah. His voice rings like machine gun fire bouncing off a wall:“I have a message for all of you: the crime and violence that today afflicts our nation will soon come to an end!” Explosive cheers rock the arena as nationalists clutch the flags of the fatherland tight to their breasts. Women appear tear-eyed, filled with the hope that one day they shall bear the future heroes of this new and triumphant people. You can practically feel veterans of the last stupid and futile war nod their heads in collective agreement, biting at the chance to finally win some imaginary honor they believe was ripped out from underneath them. They grin and shake hands with high-strung policemen, fellow dogs in uniform that long for a “simpler time.” Though the battlefields are different both concur this man will allow them to “do what needs to be done” with foreigners and the subhuman that pollute the nation’s greatness. Not a crowd but an entire stadium is filled with people that cook stews for church functions, simple people that usually may be misguided but certainly don’t mean any harm. Together, and under this man’s leadership, they joyously wait for the opportunity to unleash a regime of horror on the unsuspecting.
This is not Germany in the 30’s. This is Donald Trump thanking the Republican party for making him the conservative choice for National Puppet in 2016. To witness his speech is to watch history not only repeat itself but rhyme.
Of course it’s hard to tell things are changing (or that they haven’t) when you don’t have any concept of history, and the Republican National Convention was perhaps the largest gathering of Live Action Role-players we’ve ever seen. No wonder they couldn’t detect the subtle shift in tone: they lived in a place where Reagan sits at the right hand of Jesus, where somebody’s going to find those WMD’s in Iraq eventually, and where the FBI didn’t warn the US government in 2006 that White Supremacists we’re infiltrating police departments at such a high rate it might constitute a national threat.
Of course proclivity for batty world-views is not something limited to Republicans. Democrats believe that Jim Crow was defeated by some black folks taking a beating for a long enough time, that people’s arms got tired and we all learned how to sing kumbayah. The ACTUAL history is anything but:
Trump, before his adoring masses, stated “Beginning on January 20th 2017, safety will be restored.” It’s not hard to figure out safety for who and how.
I didn’t want to watch Trump’s speech, let alone write about it, because I didn’t want to be ill. I knew that whatever it ended up being it was going to be a massive circle jerk appeal to the flag-wavin’, bible-totin’, love-it-or-leave-it, if-you-ain’t-like-me-go-hang-from-a-damn-tree type crowd, and that is not my cup of tea.
Besides, I had my own shit to deal with. Client after client was coming to me with either some jinx or fucked luck and if they didn’t have those problems they were looking to keep it that way. Combine that with the very real threat of negative entities, emotion-stained environments, and malicious warlocks – my requested services looked more like an Aleppo wizard’s than a Florida Hoodooman’s.
“Why do you think that is?” My wife asked flipping between Reddit threads.
I swirled a toothpick around in my mouth, unsure of how to answer. I stared at the red candle in my hands, covered in ashes from a burnt St. Micheal picture.
“Well…where do you really begin? The past few mansions have been fairly bad. Of course bad spirits are always out-and-about. But things are also coming to a head. Maybe something is out there in the sea of probability. Something large enough to shake the spirits up. Like ants sensing an earthquake or crabs and turtles running away from an incoming tidal wave we aren’t even aware of. The Age of the Hyena is truly beginning to chuckle in our time. It’s almost comedic in a weird way. Every time I look at the big picture (really pull back ya know?), I can’t help but begin to laugh. It’s all so-so…”
“So people are freaking out. They always do. What’s so funny about that?”
Humor, like morality, was highly subjective. I struggled to articulate just what I though was funny. After all most people weren’t laughing. Things were terrible, something needed to be done. I tried to act serious but in private I could stop from snickering as America’s war-raised chickens came home to roost.
“The U.S. has been fighting wars—declared, half-declared, and undeclared—for almost 15 years and, distant as they are, they’ve been coming home in all sorts of barely noted ways. In the years in which the U.S. has up-armored globally, the country has also seen an arms race developing on the domestic front. As vets have returned from their Iraq and Afghan tours of duty, striking numbers of them have gone into police work at a time when American weaponry, vehicles, and military equipment—including, for instance, MRAPs (mine-resistant ambush protected vehicles)—have poured off America’s distant battlefields and, via the Pentagon, into police departments nationwide. And while the police were militarizing, gun companies have been marketing battlefield-style assault rifles to Americans by the millions, at the very moment when it has become ever more possible for citizens to carry weapons of every sort in a concealed or open fashion in public.
The result in Dallas: Micah Johnson,… Army Reserves veteran, who spent a tour of duty in Afghanistan and practiced military tactics in his backyard, armed with an SKS semi-automatic assault rifle, wearing full body armor, and angry over police killings of black civilians, took out those five white officers. One of them was a Navy vet who had served three tours of duty in Iraq and another a former Marine who had trained local police for DynCorp, a private contractor, in Iraq and Afghanistan. Meanwhile, civilian protesters, also armed with assault rifles (quite legal in the streets of Dallas), scattered as the first shots rang out and were, in some cases, taken in by the police as suspects. And at least two unarmed protesters were wounded by Johnson. (Think of that, in his terms, as “collateral damage.”) In the end, he would be killed by a Remotec Andros F5 robot, built by weapons-maker Northrop Grumman, carrying a pound of C4 plastic explosive, and typical of robots that police departments now possess.
In other words, this incident was capped by the first use of deadly force by a drone in the United States.”
The action in Baton Rouge came next, leaving 3 cops dead and striking fear into the hearts of the uniformed everywhere. It was a shock, a paradigm shift. These people were supposed to simply lie down and take it, allow beating after beating until one day they finally got shot in the head. My god, THEY WEREN’T ALLOWED TO FIGHT BACK! The world seemed topsy-turvy to illusion-bound bourgeoisie everywhere, a nice and stable peace that allowed the “worthy” to buy whatever brand-new crap the tv was hawking this week suddenly under siege by those pesky “coloreds” making a ruckus.
Like kid petting a cat too hard, they were beginning to get bit, and that was funny.
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