Here we are, paying attention one more time to the election for the quest of the empire. The United States of América, one more time inside our current estate of affairs. Is it really that important to see the crumbling monster fall into the ground? Maybe. As the system stands tall in the basis of the not so hidden agenda of this one narrative of the good. We know who they think evil is, even if its face changes more often than the némesis of James Bond. Or the James Bonds themselves. The character outlives the actors who depict the epic quest of a spy on the right side of history.
That’s the narrative of good and evil from the pages of history. The antagonizing need to have evil acting on the quest against the good willing people of the earth. It’s a matter of easy choices. We want to be on the right side of the story, and therefore, we want to be on the wider strokes that paints the picture of our time. This is how superheroes make things work. By acting upon the evils of society, clearly depict with the multiple faces of evil. Better if the picture described has a single face to deal with, and not those exotic nemesis that we fall in love with because we feel the attraction of the devil calling for our basic instincts to join a revolution that destroys the act of God, Himself. That would kill God. And we, the humble servants and worshipers, may not allow such thing to happen, as if the supreme leaders of the underworld would need the action of us, virus, to heal the wounds from the head to head at the higher ends of the pyramid.
Just chill, bro. The military’s got our back. You hear the laughs that have been recorded from the videos in Abu Ghraib. Oh, oh, oh… wait a minute. It’s a trap. Everybody, down. We have been ambushed. Semper-fi, semper-fi,… brothers, brothers,… where art thou?
You will not play with the pilars of our faith.
It’s too sensible.
Nobody fucks with that.
Nobody.
And we are supposed to think that’s reasonable. Because we have a set of values that shape who I am. Because those values were introduced into my life by my cultural trainers. My parents. My school teachers. My friends. The government. The news. The journalists. The newspapers. The publishers. The authors. The people society praises. The influencers of our time.
Let’s assume everything went down the drain. We’ve been flushed out. We’ve got fired by the people. Sort of what Trump is feeling right now. But he can’t stand to loose. He wants to take action. Stand by proud boys. It’s our time for militia. Now they’ll know. This kind of back up from straight up fighters for a higher good: our own. Our personal view of the really really good. The good «I» represent. The good that takes the hand of God and delivers the challenge of our day: to make the system fall.
América will crumble to the ground. And the entire world will watch in awe what they were expecting for so long: the fall of the empire. The crumbling of the Death Star. By this group of rebels, with guns and shit, taking down the road for the deliverance of their quest: salvation. Or some sort of paranoia. One of them conspiracies in their one online book: face.
They want to be a part of history that takes place in worlds that are closer to the superheroes they praise as real. The entertainment they love to fall for. Like Trump’s tv shows. Like being in part of his legacy. That’s what it feels like to them. They are following the lead of a lunatic that has made a brand of himself, and mirrored a lost country in itself. That’s me/you, he said. And the found «US». The you es. Ese.
Batos from Mexico voting for Trump. They know what’s happening down south, they say. They’ve seen the violence in their communities take over. A sort of thing, that somehow, does not show its face in the communities where they’ve landed a «life». It’s been illegal for some time. But now, after years of struggle, they are in. They are part of this final frontier. The place where everybody wants to be. The bar at Cheers. They are sitting within the sitcome that represents their improved life. Join them, they feel. It’s only fair I think for our own sake. They, the others, that resemble you I was, are now, as I’ve learned to believe, are the evil comming to mess up our fairy land.
Some crooked way to think, but yet the populist have established the line of what’s the complete story you must believe in order to be called one of us. Are you with «US» or with «them»? So these people, are led to believe that they will win some points by joining the counter argumentative place where they belong. Just because they feel like they don’t belong to the high paced good hearted way of being from here. They are mainly brushed by a sense of something else, that their fellow country men are missing out on. And they just like to call them one name: dumb.
This is part of where the situation gets to a quick quarrel against the others. They started to call me names. Now I’m just defending myself. But they are not right. They use fallacies to convey a story that’s clearly fake news. It’s been like that that they have introduced lies in the agenda of our once great country. But we want to make it great again. And we are not going to let fraud take this from us. Proud boys, are you ready?
Obviously the proud boys are standing by. And what will be of the military when the militas take the stands where they are supposed to be protecting the institutions they’ve sweare to defend. Rebelion is on the table. As so happens, those proud boys are also the military. Oh… whaaaaaaaat….
Wait, you didn’t see that one coming? Really. It’s, the least, surprising. But let me go on with this literary excersise of the shit hitting the fan. Tongue licks lips; first the top one, then, the bottom one, and then moving back in. Darkness is bright these days. It’s the pilars of a new system figuring out where to built either havoc or grace. But grace had been shadowed by the new ways of the family in power. Much like a tyranny of cynycal one. The cynycal ones. It’s a spiral of deceit. The glow of gloom. The dust comming in.
