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Prometheus Rebound

Skulking online social media, as I am wont to do, I see such blithering discourse concerning a droll desire held by entirely too many persons for reforming the Democrat party and reforming the Republican party, and of getting the U.S. back on track. As though nobody had ever considered such obstacles before. But it all strikes me as Frankenstein’s monster.

Because it’s all dead. Nobody heard the death rattle because everybody was wearing ear-buds, listening to the big game or karaoke game-show TV or desperate housewives of Bedlam or whatever.

The DNC and GOP both have long-lost all pretense of existing for any purpose other than serving as wealth-accumulating enterprises. The levels of corruption are so systemic, so blatant, that any notion of repairing the multitudes of damages done is painfully childish. The U.S. as well is obviously quite far into its twilight hour, which I would imagine is abundantly clear to all passersby. Yet it would appear as though virtually everyone online is in a deep denial over all of this.

We have this bloated corpse before us, but the guy in charge is assuring us with bright ideas for bold, exciting new cosmetic surgery. Hey, let’s just add on a couple more hands so it can work twice as effectively. Let’s give it a monster-sized cock so it can at least feel important. Let’s throw in some extra kidneys because why the fuck not? And the results are always abomination, as no fraction of it is still really alive, with each and every extant component locked further into grotesque designs of unnatural courses of action, where life is guaranteed to fall short before the price of lucrative value.

Pertains just as easily over yonder where regards Labour, Lib-Dems and the Tories. Some cite issues as anxiety, cooler heads see identity crises understudies, but for those whose dancing shoes have been worn the fuck down, continued faith in a party that’s been sold out with spirits long gone is necrophilia. Let the janitors get home to their families.

Just let it go, let all of it go. None of it was honestly very promising to begin with. Too many lives have been destroyed. The people who still take any of it seriously, including but not limited to the mass of social networking users who without exception must surely comprise the most manipulable persons on the planet, they come across like the widow of the monster. Hopeful that maybe with some additional skin grafts, a second and third heart, new eyes, all stolen of course, their loved one will be back in fighting shape in no time. The rotting flesh and missing digits, the brain stem electrocuted into charbroil, the mismatched legs, the head of a serial killer, all of these things are just minor setbacks.

But it’s far too gone for resuscitation. And reanimation is grounds for horror.

This is where love gets us.