I come to you Americans as a representative of the concerned.
We have become used since the end of the second world war, to the idea that the new country on the block with its resources and vigour had taken the lead. We didn’t like it, but history moves on and you were on the side of right and would (we hoped), grow with the responsibility. Unfortunately, instead of maturing under this obligation, you buckled under the burden, slipping into premature senility and schizophrenia as you tore yourselves apart like a demented Tyler Durden, one part shouting bible quotes and paranoia, another for science and the future.
We the concerned, watched in horror as in the grip of your malaise you chose leaders apparently on a whim, actors, morons and sexual predators, and then…
Then, the fever seemed to break. You showed to the world, an intelligent, eloquent, forward thinking coloured man of humility and humour, and we rejoiced.
Alas it was a false dawn, the regressive mind snapped and took control, as standing there in front of the incredulous god fearing no nonsense, barely educated murican was a black man, a black man who said he was their leader, or at least that’s what he was being told it was saying because frankly he couldn’t understand the words he used or pronounce his name. The world had gone to shit.
He spoke like a heretic for god’s sake, pay for the right of people to have fundamental health cover? Heresy! What is freedom if it’s not having to wave an ambulance away as you bleed out, knowing that to pay to sow back your severed leg will cost your remaining uncrushed organs and your first born.
Close our overseas torture camps? Sacrilege! How could we feel like the land of the free if you can’t sleep safely in the knowledge that someone somewhere is getting his kidneys pureed by a flunked college Linebacker with a truncheon and a grudge.
And the guns, oh god the guns! The blasphemer wanted checks to stop the insane buying a method of mass slaughter! Can you stand in front of god and sing about the home of the brave when you have denied some poor pasty Morlock headed Ritalin ravaged incel, the potential for his 15 minutes of lurid exposure, mowing down screaming cheerleaders in retribution for imagined denial of hand-jobs? Not on my watch.
So, as the three whim choices of actors, morons and sexual predator, hadn’t done the job perhaps taking all three at once would, and maybe throw in a sprinkle of financial fiasco and a soupcon of narcissism to spice it up.
We the concerned stood, concerned, unbelieving. Surely it took but a few moments of watching this hideous creature to deduce its lack of soul, its insincerity, and its baseline conceit? But it swept into power.
AND NOW YOU HAVE LET IT FUCKING HAPPEN AGAIN, FUCK!