So castigated the withered old bitch and I laughed vainly.
I live in modern America, I guffawed!
We are reasonable folk. Nothing ever eludes, and we are never at a loss.
Our government is a steel beam that bends reality without bending.
We leave that for the rest of the world.
This is America!
Hysteria is dead, I spoke.
And how wrong I was.
I was wrong and I uttered these very words as we recklessly entered this malign, national crossroads. See, it’s not Donald Trump that worries me. He plays his hand and I don’t believe he is capable of subterfuge, such is his egregiously exhibitionist ego. What comes to his mind, to his soul, will soon be announced, emblazoned across our screens. There is no power in divulging.
No, what worries me are the reactions of the ninny’s. There is a crescendo building daily, exponentially; what was once a shaken head in the Fall of 2015, is now a furious perspired tremble of the furrow in the Spring of 2016. The Trumpian blowback is frightening, not for what it is, but for where it has subsumed. Globally there seems to be this unfounded consensus that Donald is the new Witch and this, by proxy, places the American voter at odds with most of the “civilized” world and those American cucks who would call themselves that as well.
Tyrants are not born; they are molded by the masses, with the putty of their wildest nightmares.
Right now, the masses appear quite willing to submit to a new witch, a monster, and Donald Trump represents that conveniently fallen figure.