THE DUTY OF THE PRESS is to keep the people informed, even when the things they might learn lean towards the morbidly terrible and truly bizarre. The Republican healthcare plan is both.
Our story starts where usually it ends, at least in Florida anyway: on a crowded highway at breakneck speed and heavily, heavily distracted.
Easter: a day normally celebrated by the recollection of Christian myth, the painting of eggs, and the wide scale eating of pork in clear defiance of Judaic law.
There are weird times, unsettling times, and then times that make you wonder if the entire universe hadn’t slipped into the grasp of some gibbering Chaos god content to cause widespread destruction and upheaval for the simple pleasure of moving things around.
Voting day was crowned by a pleasant sun and I went outside with a cold beer in my hands to soak up the energy. This was it, the final day, a whole series worth of articles and research coming down to this.
We are living in a horror movie, a grotesque carnival of human depravity and indifference towards suffering. Torture, blood, guts, everything seems slashed with macabre tones as I nervously sprinkle rue water on my front steps to keep away evil.
Social issues are the great gears of Capitalism’s engines, the pressure valve that can move just enough to ensure that the really important issues never get noticed.
Does anybody else remember the primaries? I covered how this bullshit was so fixed North Korea even started to blush yet the talking heads and literally tons of news outlets can’t be bothered to do any digging.
Football is perhaps the most American sport ever devised. Born from the angst-encrusted days of post-WW2, it caught on quickly with the thoroughly prussianized populace. The entire game is a big metaphor for our own military success
The once well-meaning liberals are becoming the New Neo-Cons, closing ranks around a candidate for presidency that grotesquely distorts the values they once held so dear.
This most recent debate, billed as a rematch between an iguanadon from the mid-Jurassic and a property-pimp from New York has revealed itself to be anything but.
Amid the gallons of rain, rolling blackouts, and hurricane-force winds that recently swept Florida coastline I laid eyes on a Time magazine article that was so idiotic, so clearly drenched in Pro-State Propaganda..
Lost in the Land of the White Ape: Trump Came to Florida and I Survived (Gonzo and Conjure ’16) Part 2
My plan was not a dry retelling of the rally but one of substance, so I was content with leaving the other newsies to rot in their bubble of safety. I had questions that needed answers. Who were these people?
Lost in the Land of the White Ape: Trump Came to Florida and I Survived (Gonzo and Conjure ’16) Part 1
The city of Melbourne, like many small Florida cities, does not rate high on the radar of Florida destinations. It does not have any theme parks to play in, does not have a Civil War history to exploit, and quietly pretends it is not currently attached to a state that specializes in unadulterated madness.
You ever heard a Florida thunderstorm deep within the state’s interior? Far away from the tourists and the oceans and the calm breeze that hints of tropical weather and carefree days?
The ongoing electoral contest between Trump and Hillary meant very little to the man being escorted off the bus. No questions posed by that pieces of plywood masquerading as a journalists were bouncing in his brain as the police officer walked down the aisle and asked him for his ID.
Good ole’ Hillary, she never lets me down. I had wondered when the next shoe was going to drop in the latest act of our grand collective puppet show.
There are very few places that are so terrible, so utterly tinged with some dark and malignant energy that they simply must be destroyed. Like some cursed doll or haunted house there is no saving them, save for the holy and sacred cleansing power of fire.
I saw this coming a long way off, and I tried to warn as many people to abandon ship before they had their heart ripped open, but some fools still clung to the faith of their ancestors, still believed in the little red schoolhouse version of history and honest to god thought if they just voted hard enough things would change.
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.
The FBI is regarded as the cream of the crop in law enforcement, an agency beyond reproach and committed to doing what’s right. Provided of course the guilty aren’t running for office but you get my drift.
In a move that shocked faux-socialists everywhere Chairman Sanders went out on stage and officially endorsed none other than the Lizard Queen herself.
We are in uncharted territory. When the DC sniper ran loose nobody felt for him; surely nobody understood his position. McVeigh was fringe, and of course a racist.
My wife’s eyes were caught in a strange dimension, torn between pointed lids of womanly amusement at the follies of men while simultaneously wide open in a look of unmitigated fear.
Change. Change is a rare bird of strange plumes, a multi-colored goddess that perches above crossroads and sings of new dawns. This bird, only rarely glimpsed, has made folk shudder in ecstasy and fear whereever it appears.