And that's how I like it. Because what do I have to show? Besides my toches.
Tomorrow going to work on another of the Burroughs folio portraits, and whatever else I feel like. Maybe one of the Bridge of Manipulations. (That's what I'm calling the Major Arcana of my tarot. I'll print it up as a comic book. Because why not?) Or maybe I'll just build some goofy sculpture thing to decorate the house with. Or, maybe, I'll do another pointless, sweaty caricature of a world-altering narcissistic mobster.
No. No, I think all the joy has departed Mudville, there. It's not a thing you can continue to point to and say anything meaningful about. The president authorized kidnapping people off the streets of America. Now he's sending in Chinooks, running & gunning and snatching politicians from foreign powers. What's to say? What angle is left to take? Who's even listening?
Bitching on the internet about the president of the united states is like patrolling a condemned building chock-full of fire alarms with dying batteries: the echoing chorus of demented squawks flattens any rising notes. What's being said? What needs saying? DOES ANYTHING NEED SAYING?
A wealthy flabby sack of Good Genes spends every hour of every day wondering if he can distract from his persistent association with criminals, perverts, nazis and rapists. One of his first acts in office-- for the normies who fondle firearms and fret over the sexual orientations of anyone who finds them unfuckable --was to sign a piece of Very Legal Paper that defined gender for all of us. The flag-humper needed to secure the loyalty of neurotic white men who have chosen to believe seed oils are negatively impacting caucasian sperm. How better to do that, than to declare semantic victory over the battle of toilet access. It's a bloodless doubleyou, a win TDS sufferers can't take away.
I can't take that win. All I've got are ells. Bloody 'ells.
Do we even need to have opinions about what is indubitably crank behavior? Do *I* need to have an opinion about whether the main character of a cancelled teevee show is experiencing a 3am existential snit about water pressure? "THE TOILET, IT CAN'T CHOKE DOWN MY PRESIDENTIAL LOAD."
Christ. If I believed in new year's resolutions, that would be my resolution: to stop worrying about a vapid, rapey crank with the seeming authority to do whatever the fuck he wants, to whomever he wants. I've spent my entire life worrying about presidents the way evangelicals worry about the looming antichrist. Every fucking president.
This one shouldn't be exceptional. Only he's the exception, isn't he. He can't do any of the bad shit he's signing off on, EXCEPT he gets to, because this is not, never has been, a democracy. He can't get away with straight-up mob excess, EXCEPT who's gonna stop the mobsters?
Not me. I've got real work to do.
Not direct action, silly! When has direct action ever stopped a president from being a drag? Leon Czolgosz was a piker. Drawing Wolverine. That's where change starts.
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