LIZ CHENEY - 1
When farmer folk move to the city, they lose their connexion to nature. But they also find that, if you hope on a cheap bus, you can travel miles in a half an hour. So much quicker and easier than walking. You can can call somebody up on one of them there talking machines, which is like magic, compared to going to meet them at a Sunday social. If you want to support a sports team, or a politician, or a cause - or if you want to make money - you can instantly find people around to join in and empower you. You can say and do things, like voting, especially after they banish the electoral college, which will make you vastly more important than the poor, illiterate, powerless people you left behind on the farm. You can become a city council member and end up being president of the country. If you flash the right flags, you are good, moral and valuable. Power is very easy now. You can go to schools and get degrees and not even know a damned thing about fly-over country. People will put you on the news and you can babble dream-like nonsense and people will send you money. Power in the city!
That's what happens to people in Washington, D.C. They are no smarter or interesting than you or me - in fact, they are usually less-so. But, they go to, thrive in, or even grow up in the metropolitan centre of power in the rapidly-declining most powerful country on a planet of 7.5 billion people, and life is good. You are on greased skids. You can do whatever you want, and your ass gets covered by a friendly conspiracy of equally-corrupt narcissists, who need their asses covered. You can sleep with children, you can insider-trade and receive kick-backs, you can join a company that controls a congressman and then become that congressman to control that company and then become president of that company to control vast, vast regions of commerce and investment. Go to parties, do drugs, get paid by foreign governments trying to implode fly-over country. Nothing matters, because you are comfortably numb in a big, big, amoral bubble, full of addiction and revenge. I wonder what it would be life to grow up in this kind of city?
Where one suffocates unless breathing the smog called politics.
I remember when not one Democrat did not hate Dick Cheney. I hated Dick Cheney. These days, if I were to rouse myself enough to think about whether or not I really hate anyone, then Dick Cheney might still be on that hypothetical list. Mister Darth Vader was a conniving, Machiavellian, controlling, power-hungry Lurch with a crooked, lying mouth, and snide, sniping eyes. He was everywhere, nibbling on the ears of Republican politicians, spouting his craven wisdom all over TV, getting behind agendas and candidates planning to ruin our lives. A kind of Tricky Dicky, Gordan Gecko, Scarface McGee, he was portrayed interestingly by Richard Dreyfus, in, "W", I think he mostly wanted outshine the infamy of Henry Kissinger.
But, Dick Cheney made his way in WDC, playing the games of power and manipulation, and somehow became famous all over the world, by virtue of the fact that WDC is a massive amplification machine, for any damned schmo who goes to bat for peversity without batting an eye. Just some idiot, no better than you or me. His influence was amplified by local and national deal-makers, and by the national media, and by politics - just a big wheel spiralling in the sky, closer and closer to eternity. So, in his relentless pursuit of power, Dick Cheney moved next door to Robert Kennedy, so he could stake his fame, and rub elbows with the Democrat power establishment. His kiddies grew up biking around with the kiddies of RFK, happilly and confident, dead centre, in the belly of the beast. Deep, deep, deep in the zombie state.
And, out pops Liz Cheney, thinking that she is the centre of the universe. On a mission to preserve and defend the state of balance that had been installed in America, as represented by vast bureaucracy, corrupt game-playing, and legal and intelligence agency obscenity. Calling herself a democrat, she is a product of, and a whore to, the very same Deep State that bought the soul of her psychopath father. Pretending to support important values and purposes, she serves the same globalist monsters who have been eating her father and all he touched. An outstanding example of a faux American success story, Liz Cheney essentially announces she is running for president, right after losing by a landslide in a fly-over state she was never naturally related to. What does it matter, the world is composed entirely of lies. That's where the money is, that's where the power is, that's where the self is.
And it's all Donald Trump's fault. I am sure her father once took her aside, and said to her, "The future is not in plastics. Look at the gold, waiting for you, here. The ultimate enemy has been created by my duopoly monopole - the ultimate evil to run against! He can't win! The power of the deep state is too much - it is all-powerful and all-mighty! You run against this corrupt, incoherent narcissist, and you could be president!" said the corrupt, incoherent narcissist.
"Absolutely!" said the narcissist next door, ironically helping the Republicans more than anyone could ever have imagined.
That's what happens to people in Washington, D.C. They are no smarter or interesting than you or me - in fact, they are usually less-so. But, they go to, thrive in, or even grow up in the metropolitan centre of power in the rapidly-declining most powerful country on a planet of 7.5 billion people, and life is good. You are on greased skids. You can do whatever you want, and your ass gets covered by a friendly conspiracy of equally-corrupt narcissists, who need their asses covered. You can sleep with children, you can insider-trade and receive kick-backs, you can join a company that controls a congressman and then become that congressman to control that company and then become president of that company to control vast, vast regions of commerce and investment. Go to parties, do drugs, get paid by foreign governments trying to implode fly-over country. Nothing matters, because you are comfortably numb in a big, big, amoral bubble, full of addiction and revenge. I wonder what it would be life to grow up in this kind of city?
Where one suffocates unless breathing the smog called politics.
I remember when not one Democrat did not hate Dick Cheney. I hated Dick Cheney. These days, if I were to rouse myself enough to think about whether or not I really hate anyone, then Dick Cheney might still be on that hypothetical list. Mister Darth Vader was a conniving, Machiavellian, controlling, power-hungry Lurch with a crooked, lying mouth, and snide, sniping eyes. He was everywhere, nibbling on the ears of Republican politicians, spouting his craven wisdom all over TV, getting behind agendas and candidates planning to ruin our lives. A kind of Tricky Dicky, Gordan Gecko, Scarface McGee, he was portrayed interestingly by Richard Dreyfus, in, "W", I think he mostly wanted outshine the infamy of Henry Kissinger.
But, Dick Cheney made his way in WDC, playing the games of power and manipulation, and somehow became famous all over the world, by virtue of the fact that WDC is a massive amplification machine, for any damned schmo who goes to bat for peversity without batting an eye. Just some idiot, no better than you or me. His influence was amplified by local and national deal-makers, and by the national media, and by politics - just a big wheel spiralling in the sky, closer and closer to eternity. So, in his relentless pursuit of power, Dick Cheney moved next door to Robert Kennedy, so he could stake his fame, and rub elbows with the Democrat power establishment. His kiddies grew up biking around with the kiddies of RFK, happilly and confident, dead centre, in the belly of the beast. Deep, deep, deep in the zombie state.
And, out pops Liz Cheney, thinking that she is the centre of the universe. On a mission to preserve and defend the state of balance that had been installed in America, as represented by vast bureaucracy, corrupt game-playing, and legal and intelligence agency obscenity. Calling herself a democrat, she is a product of, and a whore to, the very same Deep State that bought the soul of her psychopath father. Pretending to support important values and purposes, she serves the same globalist monsters who have been eating her father and all he touched. An outstanding example of a faux American success story, Liz Cheney essentially announces she is running for president, right after losing by a landslide in a fly-over state she was never naturally related to. What does it matter, the world is composed entirely of lies. That's where the money is, that's where the power is, that's where the self is.
And it's all Donald Trump's fault. I am sure her father once took her aside, and said to her, "The future is not in plastics. Look at the gold, waiting for you, here. The ultimate enemy has been created by my duopoly monopole - the ultimate evil to run against! He can't win! The power of the deep state is too much - it is all-powerful and all-mighty! You run against this corrupt, incoherent narcissist, and you could be president!" said the corrupt, incoherent narcissist.
"Absolutely!" said the narcissist next door, ironically helping the Republicans more than anyone could ever have imagined.