Monday, November 2, 2020

November 3, 2020 | Vote, Motherfucker, VOTE!

 


February 5, 2020:
the day they pulled the sheet over the
pustuled and bloodless head of this country.
One that loudly professed O-so-lofty principles,
but ones founded on the very filth and degeneracy
that fuels and motivates the unbeing they acquitted that day.

His rancid followers celebrated,
filthy and degenerate too,
as did his enabling cabal,
sworn to eternal fellating fealty to him.
"Here is our king!" they trumpeted,
his watery sperm dripping
off their poreless alabaster double-chins.
"He is our way, our truth, our light!
Bow before him, for he is the future!
He's our savior!"

More than a quarter million of us have perished since,
with many more quarter millions coming.
Your mother, his uncle, her father, their coach.
His boss, their pastor, her child, his teacher.

Tubes down necks.
No beds to spare.
The countryside staggers, indolent and purposeless.
Eviction signs crowding stacks of sun-baked windows.
Children ripped from parents' clutching arms
and tossed into cages.
Food lines around cold, gray blocks.
Pigs in blue, badges covered in duct tape,
swinging nightsticks at peacefully protesting mothers.
White vans kidnapping demonstrators.
Fires licking corporate profit centers,
their big display windows smashed,
consumables looted,
landfills swelling,
ever swelling
like our corporate overlords' bank accounts.
Can't fucking get enough!

Enough can't fucking get!

Knees on necks.
But only #bluelivesmatter.
You can arm yourself to the teeth if you're white,
and stand your fat ass on the steps of state houses,
and threaten government officials.
Those good ol' boys,
those "constitutional" sheriffs ...
they've got your hairy backs.
#blacklivesmatter only at the cemetery.

Thuggery given a pass on Facefuck.
Android-boy Zuck has a hard-on for goose-stepping.
He ain't gonna let the Orange Twitler lose!
Truth is relative, facts like cheap lube on soft Senators' hands
as they circle-jerk each other to oligarchic orgasm,
to be washed down marble drains in the Blue Bloods Only bathroom.
Make sure you scrub for at least 20 seconds!

Our laws are being rewritten by black-robed demons dedicated
to propping up the overpropped
and crushing the ever-more fragile spine of justice.
Fires ravage tens of millions of acres,
tubes thrust down more throats, more throats,
more throats, more throats, MORE throats!

No one can hear anything
save for the sound of a world-sized ventilator
wheezing and gasping.

Lies, lies, lies.
A suburban populace sound asleep in their coghood,
fat and comfortable in their privilege.
"It doesn't affect me, so why should I give a shit?
I love my indifference! I've worked hard for it!
Take your motherfucking protest somewhere else!
I want to wax my BMW in peace!"

November 3, 2020.
Tomorrow.
If you vote for the unbeing,
you're an immoral fucking coward.
You're the enemy;
and yes, this is a battle of good versus evil.
Choose your side well, bitch.

If you don't vote at all,
you're the enemy;
and yes, this is a battle of good versus evil.
You're going to answer for your inaction.
You better fucking believe it.

There is only one choice for moral individuals.
He wasn't my first choice,
or my second,
or even my third.
But he's got the right people beside him,
and he's got the courage and backbone to fight.
He has been given a great task, a herculean task:
not to revive an evil nation that finally collapsed
from its own corruption,
but to midwife a new one that stands on solid foundations
those flag-waving fuckfaced fascists despise:
liberty, equality, diversity, reason, science.
Hope, creativity, imagination, inclusivity, intelligence, faith.
Compassion, education, the commonwealth, the common good.
Unions, fair and living wages, made in America, masks, common sense.
Infrastructure, exploration, sustainability, actually giving a shit about our kids.

And justice!
JUSTICE!

Our kids.
What we do on November 3, 2020, will have profound
consequences for them.
Make no mistake about it:
tomorrow is going to ring down through history--
for good or for ill.

Tomorrow.
November 3, 2020.

 

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