The play — a proposal
Supported by an uncomprehending cast of many, under the direction of a hired few, for the greedy avarice of the 1%.
A work in progress. A best in performance, by the misguided yet unerring corruption of the Religious Reich. Through its equally misguided Gnomes — the hysteria driven, Tea-bagged Militia — already at the leading edge, of the retreating Terra Firma. Guns drawn — and increasingly leveled, at the old — the regularly abused — and the hollow-eyed immigrant.
And who’s next-in-line—just behind— already have their guns trained at the backs of those poor patriot’s heads. Ready to dispatch this new batch of nouveau-poor - as the ground crumbles and collapses, beneath their feet.
Who, espousing the ethic of tooth and nail — at back of this — yet a bit higher up the hill, begin to wonder at some of the daydreams they’ve been sold.
Who’s warranties are about to expire. On cars, homes, and high-end appliances, who’s manufacturers have already disappeared, from the Standard and Poor’s. Who’s warranties now read: If it breaks in half - you get to keep both halves. And there’s no one, any longer, even there — to send back that rebate check, in the mail. As the ground continues to tilt at increasingly crazy, and worrisome angles. Until they see at last how — they too — are about to lose their grip, on what had once been the long, firm, tail, of the American Dream.
And so, they too become filled with anxiety and hate. And begin to direct their remaining resources at those dirt-bags farther down the hill. Those takers, who’re so obviously...
But wait! They discover — only too late — that everyone has had their weapons, pointed in the wrong direction— for what is at stake. That the real takers— the one’s who’re rolling up the ground, from beneath their very feet — are a cold and blue-blooded extreme. Who’ve themselves, succumbed to the wanton Hubris, of blind Avarice and Greed.
Where the natural order of eat-or-be-eaten has — like some deranged viper— caused them to begin devouring their own tail. To cut their branches — from that greater tree of commerce — that had sustained them so well. To remove the bucket — from the top of the well.
A cancerous affliction. Born of the corrupt notion, that it’s somehow the rest of humanity who owes them a living. And as yet, hold the mortgages to all those newly abused layers of the American (read US) Economy, left in serious decline.
Detroit and Flint Michigan are but discarded hulls, of former epochs to economic greatness. Abandoning much larger ghost towns, now — than anything they had been used to leaving, before. And with the remaining strength of its humanity, left to die on the severed vine.
But Woe Unto Them - as their Holy Troller’s are wont to say. When the strength of their tyranny has finally fallen victim to their own financial forays. When the very corruption they’ve created — to rape, pillage, and plunder — will have drawn up the ground, so close around them, that there is no place left to stay. No one left to honor those debts they’ve socked away.
That will harken unto a new day. When the people, themselves, will turn their backs — and walk away. After having once again stood the villains and traitors — and political collaborators — against the wall. And who will begin — all over again — the greatest comedy of all.
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