The ugly american is making a stand. Corralled, embattled, seeping life and energy from a thousand paper cuts, the meaty, manic, sour faced figure roars defiance against a world gone wrong. Paranoid and sweaty, jaw nearly locked with tension, he casts about looking for allies as the sycophants who fueled his rise breathe short breaths and steadily fail to meet his gaze. Deep within the clenched, backed-up anus there is a watery quiver. It all went wrong. Someone must have sold us out. Out plan was foolproof. Bring me a head!
And slowly it dawns that placing blame on the old enemy, on liberals and queers and arabs and blacks, isn't going to relieve the tension. The piggish brain is not a stupid one; the beady eyes peering out from thick cheeks see deeply, the moist seeking nose knows the sharp scents of fear and anger and anguish and need, knows they are spiking instead of being assuaged; and so the only answer is combat.
The swine are expert manipulators, yes. In dire times powerful men have always demanded human sacrafice. No expense shall be spared in the fall offensive, at home or abroad.
Party chairmen in their masses/Just like witches at black masses
There's an arid wind blowing now and the spring promises to be short. The thaw has come but little new life has broken forth. It's already bloody, and everyone knows the real scorch is still coming. The dog days are hungry, breathing beery meat-breath all over our backs like some large, unstoppable, half-mad and wholly untrustworthy distant relative. There's a war on in foreign lands, and confusion and anger at home. It's going to be a long, long hot summer.
These months will dial the pressure steadily upward, as all around the world reserves of humanity, patience and tact are depleted. People are going to be sweating and angry and nervous and proud, gas is going to be expensive, and someone's dream is going to have to die. It's going to be ugly. Kindhearted and fragile peope will shy away. Butchery is only a pleasent show for the knowledgable.
Well before the autumn chill sets in the course is going to be clear. This isn't going to be a languid half-year upcoming. It will be brutal; a heavyweight match with little defense or strategy. Both sides are leading with their chins, publicly baiting their foes to "bring it on."
Ideologies will be broken on an anvil of sand and in the streets of New York city. The question is whose, and how, and whether or not something new will be forged in the process.
It will be a time for building. The already lonely will look more pointedly for solace and the recently arisen will join one rank or another. New armies will rise and old generals will return from retirement. Everything will happen.
Will our peoples spend this season tearing one another apart? It seems likely, and I have no real clue how it might be stopped. Only if leaders emerge from all sides, and those leaders understand one another and choose to pursue what is truly best for all people. Simple understanding. It seems sad that this is so much to hope for.
