Fascinoma

It's my birthday today and I feel considerably older, having been mugged by the oral surgeon Saturday last, and being now on a cocktail of antibiotics and painkillers that prevents the coccasion's proper debauchery.

I confess I'm running out of capacity to even look upon the atrocity of American politics. The Foxagandists want to take us back to the Dark Ages, when superstition and subjugation ruled for the most ruthless and brutal few. And there doesn't really seem to be much hope of stopping them, short of a large asteroid, at least not until the next fascist scheme collapses under the weight of its own parasitism and paranoia. Certainly the milquetoasts of the Geithner administration aren't going to help matters.

Evil takes dominion over even the best, it seems. In the same way that the only rational course for the even the sanest Iranian leader is to acquire a nuclear weapon before the next Republican occupies the White House, the sanest course for even the best American may be to grab for as much loot as he can put away before now and when the democracy finally dissolves, and hope that is enough of a hedge in the coming kleptocracy to see one through to The End. In view of this, I sometimes feel the urgent need to pen a dark, brooding "action film," one that primes the audience, by close-up revelation of the villain's hideously despicable and perverted indulgences, for the big deafening, climactic explogasm when said villain gets his comeuppance in the last reel. The trouble is I'd want the baddies to be Republicans, and the sort of people who enjoy that sort of movie are at heart Republicans. Still, as such they are so self-blind they might not recognize themselves in the as the Hero dispatches them with a manly sneer.