Trump at 365 (Year of the Horde)
who needs to win elections when you can personally reestablish the rightful social order every day on Twitter and Facebook? where you can scold, and scold, and scold, and scold, and scold. that's the future, and it's a satisfying one; a finger wagging in some vulgar proletariat's face, forever.
- from Rendezvous with Oblivion by Thomas Frank.
in the last three years i've been sharply dressed down with barely concealed prejudicial hostility for reasons that oscillate between the roughly valid and the emotionally misaligned. the common thread between these articulated baby-shakings has been the overriding instinct across all the ideological spectrums to unforgivingly pummel anyone in a whiff of opposition to their micro-specific agendas into unconditional surrender or, failing that, existence scrubbing exile.
i've inadvertently alienated friends and family because i lack the tools one needs to feign politeness when they reveal their emphatic devotion to studiously ghoulish overkillers who would only urinate to extinguish the flames of a burning pediatric hospital if their bladders were loaded with kerosene. because the thought of otherwise decent people being enthralled to the point of faculty-debilitating mania with these excretea-glowering choad-spores... even when their malignant loathsomeness is held to be self-evident...has driven me to a state of being where the only diet of input that keeps me regular... that comforts the compacted junkyard dunes in my content-battered cranium... would be a steady stream of meticulously investigated true sex crime ASMR dialogues.
that's how frustratingly unproductive i find my occasionally renewed attempts at navigating the landmine marathon of interpersonal connection to be in these wit-excoriating hard red days, where even the most cadverously irredeemable are in lopsided possession of a cosmo-numerical supply of tireless advocates, a self-replicating shock load of legalese dadaists who would spontaneously combust into into a perma-expanding burst of molecular unicorn sparkles before condescending to waver in their contrarian obstinance, sneering belligerence, "alternative" fortitude, and creakily undergirded resistance-favoring arguments... all pointedly targeted at naked-faced reality.
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