To the Last Oval Avatar of Consummate Greed, Corruption and Power on the Occasion of his Swearing Out:
Hail to the Herald of Ignominious Infamy!
Harbinger to 50 States of Grim!
Hail to the Horse’s Ass! Ringmeister to Caligula’s Pony Show,
Riding Knee-Deep to His Offal Office!
Hail to the Exploitive Expletive in Infinite Towering Regress!
You have been planned for. You have been expected. Humanity has been waiting. So, on your mark, get set, get ready – go! Do your worst (your best is far too much). Do your undoing! We are already quantum leaps beyond.
Some say you sought this Office to pull off the “ultimate heist” of the land – but we all know that’s not “huuge!” enough for you. That could never really compensate for well —you know. So, have at, snatch away. Snatch all you can; run amok, all you like. Just know: We’ll be watching, witnessing, everywhere, because there’s nowhere left to hide. We have been waiting for this time.
May you draw deep and cull the poison reflected within ourselves, suck out the paternal patterned paradigms so long used to squelch the best we have within us. So, on you go, Mr. Imperium, build up that wall. “Ich bin ein Berliner”—whoopsie! Wrong laugh track. (Who’s paying for this, again?) Just Know: the snatch you grab may prove your own / may prove your undoing / may grab you by the throat with lipstick lesbian Sense8 kisses, and defib your deliverance – clear! – deep down into your withered gaze.
Why? To blast open a vision that even you can’t deny: that you were right, all along, that you are the only one here! All of this is for you! All of this IS you. All that is about to be done and undone is done to you by you. All that will be felt, that will be harmed, that will shake awake, is in fact, the last stage seeding, necessary shock for our body politics’ awakening —
(Shh, the dragon is sleeping!)
All this, one day, will be experienced intimately and directly by you. Because “All is One”. Because WE are you. You think you own the House? The House of G–? The House of the People? The House of Everything? Time owns that lease, Mr. Grate America, and lends only to itself. It’s patiently impatient in its endless expansion—Oh, but Pardon us, Sir, you have been planned for. Plans are made for you. Eternity owns the White House, Il Duce, the House and the High Courts, Il Dalek / The House always wins / the odds even out / The Worst shall be Last, and the Last shall be Wurst, and the —
(Shhh! The baby is stirring! The baby is kicking!
The baby is kicking you into tomorrow!)
To the Avatar of Malice,
of Disingenuous Dry Rot Neo-Nihilism:
Eternity owns the House, Mr. Chancellor! And all your hotels and casinos on your Lego Boardwalk Empire / And Atlantic and Pennsylvania Avenues, too. (Have we got a railroad for you.) Eternity owns the Justice, too, by the way. More than you could ever pack. So don’t worry, help is coming — Time is catching up to you. More than enough time to re-start the heart after so long a spiritual arrest. Fear not, Mr. Grinch! Here come all the Christmases you’ve been missing —
Hey, Mickey, it’s Plutocrat!—Wow! And with such big pants on fire to fill! Pardon us, Sir, but your high office seems to be sinking. Care for a lifesaver? They’re winter-discontentment / fresh from the heart of Goldman Sachs of shit / perfect for speeding your race to the bottom feeder frenzy. Not to worry, your Maleficence, Your Executive Branches have Monsanto miracles seeping in, even as we speak. Swampalicious, isn’t it? (And they say water is a human right.)
What’s that? It’s all gone wrong? Can’t take the heart of Hell’s Kitchen? Well, perhaps you should have ordered yourself out. At least others are having to pay for it, isn’t that nice? Isn’t it fun when you pay with other people’s lives? —others you’ll soon come to know every bit as you. Because there’s nobody else out there, Mr. Palpatine. Nobody else in here, either. “All is One”. Just us chickenshits, really. It’s all “me, me, me”, Agent Smith. (My, but we love ourselves, don’t we?). So, scream louder. Hate bigger. Maybe you’ll finally wake up.
(Shhh, the baby’s kicking! The baby is slashing / is lashing out!
Be careful, the baby has Truth in her eyes!)
Well, there’s no stopping her now. The baby is ripping out our hearts to tear at the infected Wall you built around her womb. The one you sought no futures in, the one you expected others to pay for— your daughter’s coming due, with a vengeance!
Sir? Yes, we know, Sir, the people are revolting— ha! That one never gets old. You’re right, again, Sir! But you really should stop looking at Russian porn during Defcon One, your Watergate’s about to burst, the contractions are closing in. And everywhere, everywhere, guess who’s coming for dinner? What, not hungry? Just Deserts, then?
Can’t you see, Mr. Premature? Not even a day begun, and already, here she comes! Here comes the new Boss (not like this old toss). Try not to look her into the eyes, Mr. President— “trust us“, you’re not ready. You’re not ready to not be the only one – well, are you, Herr Donald, are you?
But then, that’s why we voted for you, isn’t it? To concentrate the power, to concentrate the blame, to concentrate the hate, so we could concentrate the poison, and alchemize a cure. So, take your bow, Mr. Avatar, you’ve played your part brilliantly, Congrats. Now, take a hike, it’s our turn.
It’s time, People, it’s time — it’s past time— so wake the fuck up, it’s time!
Vote for Self. Vote with feet. Vote daily. Vote for Truth, Beauty, Freedom, Love! Vote the hell out, through every breath in, vote your heart open, through every birth pang felt. Vote your conscience to divest yourself of hurt and hate — like a feather is being weighed against your soul. Vote, in every act, to unite “self” with Self, to love neighbor as thyself – to unite blue with red, and honor all the missing rainbow hues.
Send your molecules to Washington!
Wake your Self up!
And still, you think Nobody’s coming, Mr. Predictable? Still, you think Nobody cares? There’s no time to a bake cake, Sir, they’re already at the Gate. No, they’re already here! Well, you’re right, there’s nobody out there, after all, nobody else, but you. You here, and you there —and there, and there, and there — tens of thousands of millions of “you’s”.
“Self”-determination, isn’t that what we Americans always say? Isn’t that our highest ideal, lip-service, the American way? Well, we’re sorry, Mr. Teabag, but you’re fired! Really, your work here is a disgrace. A masterfarce, mind you, but a race to the bottom is not where we’re headed. You must want to be very alone, right now. Again. Well, too bad.
Because the Self is never alone, Sir. Not even for you. That’s what we’re trying to tell you. So, thank you, if you got that. Thank you, if you’re waking. Thank us, for rising to the need.
Hail to the Towering Inferno,
the Atomic Avatar, the Atavistic Anima,
Herald to the End of Single-Minded Consciousness! *
*(On the Occasion of Little Nero’s Birthday Pizza Party). The Party after the Republican Party (“a Republic, if you can weep it”). The Remnant Requiem after the Democrat’s kick-ass demise. Well, here comes something new. Something revolting. Something worse than we ever thought possible. Something— apparently needed— to make way for something so much better. So, no, Mr. Führer, it’s not a mandate, it’s not a populist putsch, nor demagogue’s delight. It’s a spiritual (r)evolution. So, thanks, Donny. Thanks for playing, thanks for sharing. But your four minutes are the fuck up. Now, we all know how late it is. Thanks to you, all beds are burning, there’s no going back to sleep, now.
To the Last Avatar of [t.b.a.]
at the Dawn of the Deadly Infamy:
We, the People, still live in the creed of our founding. We put you on notice, that while the American dragon may have been sleeping, she is awakened. She already is great; she doesn’t need your “saving”. Our freedom may be rattled, but it shall not perish from the face of the earth. Not while we are here. We are prepared. We already are you, everywhere. “All is One”— e pluribus, unum — whether you know it, like it, or not. Tread softly, where you dare. But don’t tread disgrace on thee. Best stay put, there’s no point in going anywhere, your ouroboros deliverance is on its way, is ravenously ready. So, buckle up.
Pick you up at: hate. Deliver us from: evil.
Surge Prices: will apply. Driver: Rula Day.
Remember, Avatar, and rejoice: We owe it all to you.