Fear and Apathy during the reign of King Rancid Sack of Orange Rotting Pig Vomit, or: Kissing in the afterglow of nuclear fallout

Then, on the morning of King Rancid Sack of Orange Rotting Pig Vomit’s inauguration, I had a minor kensho. No, I wasn’t watching the inauguration. I had been determined from day one to not give King Rancid Sack of Orange Rotting Pig Vomit the only thing it truly wanted–my attention. So, no, I wasn’t watching. But there was something in the air. A pure dourness, as if a cold, wet blanket had been tossed over an entire civilization. I had become wistful for the halcyon days of Dubya and Cheney, who, while power-mad and evil, were at least competent. At the end of the day, civilization itself, with all its good and ills, was ultimately secure under their rule. Cheney, for all his venal greed-mongering, was smart enough to be Machiavellian enough to play the game. Do the occasional good deed to prevent rousing the suspicions of the numbskull centrist voters who think the spineless, neo-liberal incompetence of the Democrats is somehow just as bad as the aggressively violent gluttony of the Republicans.

And that’s when it hit me. Or, rather, that’s when I was reminded of the most important fact of all:

The game is rigged.

None of us ever had a chance. Not under the rule of Nixon or Reagan or Clinton or Dubya or Obama. In the game of American Capitalism, the only  talent that matters is having money and power. I have neither. And neither do you. Therefore, like any other game, if you don’t have the talent, you’re going to lose, and you’re going to lose badly.

So why play?

Let’s say the only way to make a billion dollars in this country was to play basketball. However, in order to make that living, you and your loved ones had to play a game of basketball against the Golden State Warriors. Would you have a chance? Of course not. So why play? And, furthermore, why not create another game?

We’ll come back to that last question in a moment.

However, the only difference between now and the times of all those other presidents, is the real Powers That Be have become brazen enough to quit lying to us. When Obama was elected, the entire point was to send the message that there was “hope” for “change.” But that’s all that was sold–hope. Significant change didn’t happen. Which isn’t to say there isn’t anything redeemable about the Obama presidency. It’s only to point out that it was mostly a sham. That we were given just enough scraps to keep us quiet. All the talent continued to be consolidated amongst the “elite” but every now and then Obama would, I don’t know, support same-sex marriage or hint that he supported things like the Black Lives Matter movement, and the libruhls were ecstatic. Their messiah didn’t actually do anything, but he suggested that, maybe, possibly, maybe even likely if at least 52-percent of the population was in favor of it,  he wasn’t totally against the idea of considering to do something. (Also: Note the tribal hypocrisy of the Democrats. They all worship at the alter of Obama, but suddenly they’re all in favor of immigration while they kept their mouths shut for the eight years Obama was deporting more immigrants than any other president in the history of this nation.)

Meanwhile, a putrid, stinking fungus festered and grew in the deepest, darkest, dankest corners of our culture. And, as that fungus flourished over the past eight years, The Powers that Be realized that they needn’t provide us any scraps any longer, and they needn’t continue to lie to us. That there were enough of us who, even though we were supposed to be playing (a losing game) against the Golden State Warriors, would not only root for the Warriors, but would clean their uniforms and buy their shoes and cook their meals and provide them with our game plans, because… because… Who knows. Because they believe that one day the Golden State Warriors will invite them to be part of the team? Because some of the non-Golden State Warriors were a little annoying and aggressive in their pursuit of some nebulous, never-agreed-upon idea of “Political Correctness.” Maybe it wasn’t even something that (barely) coherent.

They’re a new kind of dumb.

King Rancid Sack of Orange Rotting Pig Vomit is the most American president to date that I’m aware of. It’s an open and obvious crook, a con-artist who takes pride in its work, a blow-hard that can’t actually back up its bluster physically, but can pay several people to break your thumbs should it get the whim to do so. It’s also shamelessly stupid.  It isn’t lazy and he isn’t apathetic. It works hard for its grifts and it cares a lot about its television ratings. In short, it works hard and cares for all the wrong things. It’s as American as a Ponzi scheme.

King Rancid Sack of Orange Rotting Pig Vomit’s budget includes significant cuts to low-income housing in favor of more defense spending. Somehow this entire experiment continues to be worse than I had anticipated. I expected racism and misogyny and an overall lack of empathy, intelligence and decency. But I thought these fuckers would at least have to put on a show in some areas. Like, “See, we’re not so bad. We continue to give funding to people who can’t afford houses…and to museums!” and shit like that. It is clear now that here will be no respite of any kind whatsoever. These people are savages. And they will behave like savages. They understand nothing of life except that they don’t enjoy it very much. They understand nothing of what it means to be a human being, except that they despise actual human beings. They are hungry ghosts who find no thrill, no fulfillment, no satisfaction in any of the myriad of creative and life-affirming activities at their disposal. They understand only power and the ever-fleeting, momentary gratification of the imposition of that power on those who can’t cannot return fire. They are sociopaths through and through.

And, as history has shown us–whether it’s the Maori versus the Morimori, or the Spanish versus the Aztecs and Incas, or the Colonial Brits versus everyone who wasn’t a White Christian, or the Americans vs the American Indian, and so on– the savages will show no quarry. A non-savage will never win a war against a savage because the non-savage ultimately has limits to the evil they are willing to inflict. The savage, on the other hand, knows no fulfillment. The destruction of entire civilizations, or the extermination of an entire people, brings them no contentment, because whether you’re religious or not, at some point you have to realize we do have something approximating souls, but the savage does not. At the core of the savage is a pitch-black void. A black hole of life that can never and will never be filled. These are the true Walking Dead. Stumbling through their existence in a dull, dumb haze, seeing everything outside of them, including other, actual people, as nothing more than tools to try to fill the never-ending void that is the crux of their existence.

There is no reasoning with these creatures, and they don’t understand things like empathy or compassion. And if you try to fight back, they will destroy you anyway they know how. Real Life isn’t like Star Wars. The rebels never win. In Real Life, Darth Vader travels the galaxy torturing and sodomizing everyone, whether they resist or not.

You can’t beat the savage at his own game.

So we create our own. Or we should. But we don’t and we won’t. Because at the end of the day, we care too much. At the end of the day, we like our McMansions, or our shitty little jobs that make us anxious and depressed precisely because they’re so inhuman. We care about that new Thai restaurant down the street with the killer drunken noodles. We care about our iPhones and our Netflix accounts. We care about all the shit that makes us miserable. And we work damned hard for those things, and we will fight (and lose to) the savages in an attempt to keep our hold on such things.

So I will continue to promote a lethargic, apathetic life, even though I continue to play the game myself. Maybe because I’m a hypocrite. Or maybe I’m just too lazy to fight back. Or maybe I just don’t give enough of a shit.

Or maybe I just don’t have any real, concrete answers. I don’t know what an enlightened apathy or laziness looks like in King Pig Vomit’s empire. Maybe we should save ourselves and get the hell out of this country and culture before they come for us next. Because, at the end of the day, we lazy bums don’t have a tribe, so the other tribes–King Pig Vomit’s and even his enemies–will come for us sooner rather than later, anyway. And when that happens we dance and kiss and drink and fuck under the glowing embers of radioactive fallout, while they try to figure out how to make their money work again, because that’s all their tribe really knows.

Mr. Furious

Mr. Furious

Mr. Furious lives in rural southern Colorado and tries to live as boring, apathetic and lazy a life as possible. He is hoping one day to be invited to do a "Life Class" for "Super Soul Sundays" on the Oprah Winfrey Network. You can read his fiction, poetry and short essays at www.puerileandpointless.blogspot.com. He wrote a really stupid novel called " Puerile and Pointless with no Hope for Enlightenment" that you can purchase at Amazon and waste your time with.
Mr. Furious