Monday, November 19, 2018

House of Turds

Americans can’t even muster real villains these days. Ours are cardboard. We have offenders so arrested they’re in diapers or, in any case, not potty proficient, and then legions of ass-wipes. The ass-wipes interest me. Who chooses such a trade? And then serves transparently ludicrous pretenders?

Is it any wonder they are so sensitive about their dignity? They trail Trump around, or Bush before him, cleaning up mess after hideous mess. How dare anyone malign
, challenge or insult them as they tail Master Donald with reams of two-ply, sani-wipes and powder with which to dust his white-ass ass?

Americans always were derivative--a nation of imposters, charlatans and wannabes aspiring to some kind of borrowed authenticity. Even that eludes us. It isn’t novel to suggest we are a people destined to track to and converge on a lowest common aspect. But who ever thought the lowest would be so low?

God help us--we inhabit episodes of Maury and Jerry Springer. And reruns, no less. It is so unworthy it calls into question the survival and possibility of dignity. Go now, and marvel at every lie of Sarah Sanders. Her brother is said to have once hung a dog from a tree, you know. Maury, are you there?

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