These bastards focus our energies. They invade our behavior. They take from us and from everyone. The price is high, a moral theoretical price that they can never repay, nor would they want to. The Pigs run the sty, and our power lies just beyond our ability, our senses weakened and our brains at an impasse. So hell, Jesus, I suppose none of that matters. The reaction is the thing, the brutal comeback or the cowardly shrinking. You do as you do, and not much changes that. If you can figure a way in or out of this goddamned mess, then you've got a leg up, you're doing ok, have yourself a grape soda. If not, join in line, because it's going to take one king hell bastard of a change to get this thing right.
The Swine that sit at border patrol lurk like dormant yellowjackets. The sweet nectar of fear is what perks them to attention, and nothing short of pollenation in all its forms will quench the thirst. It is necessary to examine this transaction in animal terms, and divorce it from the Human Experience, because it's not human, nobody's human in this deal. And it IS a deal, in as much as exchanging currency for goods, services or the fantastic possibility of More Money is, this is too. The fucking Filth are trading a piece of our Time and Psychic Energy for a bit of their power, their piggish grab on the infinite supply of misery, the word game that they control, and we lack the tools for.
Rules? Are you fucking kidding? Christ, rules would be completely out of place here. It's a transaction, a deal, and nobody's telling any of us any information. There are no rules, and there is bound to be stretching of any sort of order that is in place. Nobody reports to anything, the swine rub their noses in the Hypocrisy of it all, and nobody can do anything. The hopelessness is, quite frankly, the last sort of emotion we can hang on to, that golden noose that we can still hang ourselves with when it all tumbles down. Jesus, if that's the way it's going to happen, then there must be something else, some Wizard behind the booth, casting spells and pulling away. But no, it's not. Dick Cheney doesn't live here. These rats work without a net. Nothing holds up a ropewalker when he walks on a rope 40 feet thick. There's no sense in it.
The reaction though, that's the thing. And that's what we're left with. The assault complete, the deal done, the reaction haunts, but it gives meaning. It tells us we're still human. We're still capable of feeling, of working this thing out from the Other Side. Just like all else, the money might tell the story. But not, no, maybe not. Maybe the cruel hand of fate that this country has dealt to itself - because even an idiot can see that fate has nothing to do with the United States of America - is disinegrating of itself, it's falling to the ground and under the table. The cards don't match anymore, the suits don't hold. The Fucks take over, but they don't; they just take it all down. What in fuck's name would a Scumbag like that do if he had any REAL power? I would venture to guess that the end result would be quite a bit of Blood, and blame longer than any horizon. We're not there yet, but shit like this only turns the engine over, and slides us into gear. But back to the point, is that it, are we doing this to ourselves? Hell, if anyone deserves this, it's us. It just makes sense, I guess, to have this feeling, to wonder why it all had to go down, but yet, the question answers itself. IT WENT DOWN BECAUSE WE LET IT GO DOWN. We didn't stand in the way, we didn't make any demands, and now the Filth make decisions, and we can do nothing but examine it. But examination doesn't lend human feeling to the Filth.
The Scumbags are back. And their bullish behavior now builds upon itself. The machine grows, and nobody has the keys. Jesus, we built this fucker. But the brains, they have been reprogrammed. Hope is out there, but it can be killed very easy, it's very fragile. No, the way out of this is with brute force. That's the only thing that resonates with the Pigs. Reinforcement doesn't work on a farm animal. You beat its brains in with concepts, and hope to holy hell you don't have to kill it before it learns. Will they ever learn? I've seen a pigeon peck a red circle to keep from getting shocked, so I suppose anything is possible. But it doesn't matter. Because as I head down to sleep tonight, the beast feeds, and I am only one small pellet coming out of the shoot. I can't change the behavior. The shock isn't enough. The world cannot conjure the energy, let alone our pitiful band. The work we must do is too daunting, we will accept our positions, and deal with our small tragedies.
And the Swine will feast, as they always do. I only hope the REST of the US hasn't turned into Vegetarians yet.
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