Free Promises

We violently stumble down the stairs of cultural, societal and genetic relevance. Incrementally but yet making leaps and bounds toward the bottom. The tether to the diving bell snapped under the pressure. The weight.

Homogenized by mainstream decadence and LCD screens that transmit nothing but the repetitive. Repeat. Minutiae.

It’s not how it works. This is not how this works…

Simple-mindedness, mediocrity and desperation. To go. Go where? And. For what? Viral? Viruses are living organisms too. Why do we only champion the rights of the organic beings that we choose? We do. Do we not?

To deny Nature is to deny God…

The last Gazelle is not waited on by the rest of the herd as the lioness preys. If you’re last in line, you’re first to die. Not opposite. Holding up Nature is playing God and playing God is denying as well.

This is necessary…

Everyone is selling something to everyone but everyone is as well for sale to everything. All is systemic. No one smells flowers. Admires their colors. No one watches birds. Admires their intricacies.

Beyond the fibrous attachment to the glow, chasing dragons of wild and mania-induced what-if conspiracies. Disconnected. Disillusioned. Doomed.

Numb. Deaf. Mute. Chemically dependent as am I…

But the birds.

No one hears them sing.

Torch Song…

It’s a sad, sad song playing,
over and over.
To a tune I can’t remember.

It’s a mad, mad hinge coming,
loose and unglued.
With the screws left in my hand.

So long. (To you.)
So tired. (Of you.)
So worn. (Confused.)
What’s left? (To do.)

Recycle all these tears!
Re-burn the souvenirs!
And all that does remain!
A bent engagement ring!

So long. (So long!)
So long. (So long!)

And all the pretty little lies.
(Over and over.)
And every promise broken.
And all that bleeds will die.
(Over and over.)
I hold the key, it’s choking.

Recycle all these tears! (To you.)
Re-burn the souvenirs! (Of you.)
And all that does remain! (So confused.)
A bent engagement ring!
What’s left to do is take these wounds.
(All the emotions.)
Behold the words bespoken!
To you they’re all unspoken!

Listen to the quill. (I tried.)
Your silence has been spoken. (So long.)
Scream at the voices in my head! (So Long)
Listless and heartbroken! (To you.)
And now the vein’s wide-open!

So long. (So long!)
So long. (So long!)
So long. (So long!)
So long. (So long!)

Karma Has No Deadline…

Republicans, the GOP and especially MAGAts love the art of the steal. They’re grifters, liars, con-artists, cheaters and sometimes much worse. Some of them abandon their families for the comfy good life in the states. Mostly that’s because they’re childish cowards with no guts, nuts or back bone.

But then they run into money trouble.

What to do…

The Democrats’ “Resistance” was a massive swell and with millions of surfers riding it, who would notice one fat, sweaty MAGAt; alone, desperate and pissing his pants in fear like a toddler. So, fat sweaty MAGAt hatches a scheme. Everyone loves a redemption story, a comeback, the underdog and far too many tender-hearted people are saps for the villain that has a change of heart at the end of the movie.

This fat, sweaty MAGAt is David Weissman and much like any MAGAt out there, he’s lazy, can’t keep his lies straight, can’t keep his perversions in check and is 100% Grade A stupid.
Weissman is the prototypical Deadbeat Dad that I track with Hellfire and fury on a daily basis…except he’s worse. You see Dave-O here was married. He and his wife had a child and this child, through no fault of her own, was born with special needs.

Now, a real man would do everything in his power to provide for his family and to give everything to that child she needed to have some semblance of normalcy in her life. A real man would do that…but not Lil Davey.

He tucked his scaly tail and forked tongue and abandoned them to live in a dilapidated and toxic mold infested apartment that I wouldn’t even let cockroaches live in, eventually divorcing her and leaving his ex-wife and daughter destitute. Take a Look for yourselves.

But, D-Bag Dave had a plan…

Play on people’s sympathies, gain their trust, play the victim, bathe in the limelight, but first, he needed allies…and camouflage…and most importantly…to monetize everything. And he found that cover too. Inside the very populous he so deeply hates…Liberals.

It was really easy to do too. It didn’t take an Astrophysicist to see how hiding out with the good guys would work miracles in his pygmy brain either. Surround yourself with the enemy, convince them you’ve changed, that you’re human after all and the bleeding hearts will weep fo they have saved one of the wretched from the clutches of Mango Tango’s army of neckbeards. Because one of the worst and most egregious flaws and vulnerabilities Liberals have is a Savior Complex. In desperate need to ride in on their Blue Stallions and swoop up the oppressed.

Now, I’m not saying all Democrats and Liberals are narcissistic egomaniacs but I’m also saying that most of them are holier-than-thou, judgmental “Won’t someone think of the children?!”, credit collectors with Messiah Complexes and make no mistake about it, when they’ve done a “goodening”, they ain’t shy about collecting that credit either.

And those delusions of grandeur and the mirage of their bullshit status as paladins, liberators and knights in shining armor made it so very easy for Simple Dave to do the absolute bare minimum and fleece these rubes.

Hell, all it took was buying a couple of cheap t-shirts and posting some awkward selfies wearing Biden and Warren merch, some quotes by RBG and Maya Angelou and worming his way into an interview with Sarah Silverman and…*boom*…the clout fire is an inferno.

But ‘ol Dave’s skeletons weren’t limited to this massive Andre the Giant sized one that was quite literally bursting from the closet. Oh, no! See, there’s a price to fame and having your name and face plastered all over the internet, for the world to see.

And, people began to come forward. With sordid tales of perverse DMs, threats, cyberbullying and a mountain of lies. And, people began to come forward…many people.

So, instead of owning the little lies, the smaller shit, what does this fake disabled mouth-breather do? What every grifting GOP wolf in sheep’s clothing does. Double down, no-fuck-that, triple down and oh yeah! He has hundreds of thousands of followers now! And being the lazy fuck knob that he is, he paints on a thin layer of victimhood, cries foul and sheds six crocodile tears and off go his minions, ready for war and all this does is heap more attention and clout on this donkey raping shit eater.

But, remember now…he’s dumber than a bag of dicks so while his pawns are getting captured and he’s oblivious to how close he is to being put in check, he’s in the DMs of women, dripping his sweaty degeneracy onto them with unsolicited pictures of his warty toadstool and then threatening/stalking/blackmailing them when the chud doesn’t get his way. All whilst living in some alternate reality where there’s no possible way to document proof of this.

Annnnnd, there is proof. People have receipts but that doesn’t stop Mr. Ruby Red! Of course, he can’t share his receipts because it would only validate his depravity and criminality but it would also reveal his true rank, just below roundworm infested beaver shit.

But the con-job is simplistic.

  1. Simply spend 46 seconds coming up with a story about how one day you just miraculously saw the light and became a Democrat, when you never were and never will be.
    2. Next, spread that story around social media like Typhoid Mary, making sure to fuck up even the simplest of details.
    3. Take lots of photos wearing Democrat merch.
    4. Upload those mofos EVERYWHERE!!
    5. Add frivolous and false details, angles and anecdotes to your narrative, to further inflate your importance, even though his puny gerbil brain won’t ever be able to keep any of it straight.

    6. Sell that frosted cupcake with the bullshit center to any Liberal that will listen to his artificial and fraudulent sob story and listen they will because Liberals LOOOOVE a good tearjerker.
    7. And when it comes time for the skeptics and their intuition to call his lard ass out for the novel of lies that would leave Tolstoy in awe? Deny, deny, deny! Deflect, deflect, deflect! With a thick, slimy frosting of projection slathered on and a big, red, alarm bell cherry ringing on top.

That’s literally all he’s done to con hundreds of thousands of social media users, politicians, donors and celebrities. “Hundreds of thousands?? He must be a genius!” you might ask but nope, he’s just your typical lying, lowlife fraud, wasting precious oxygen that some Corpse Flower somewhere could be benefitting from.

So, don’t let another right wing reprobate con you into believing a goddamned word they say because it’s all bullshit…and they all want your attention…and your fucking money and at the end of the day, David Weissman is the same parasite he’s always been…a fat…sweaty…MAGAt, because this…

…underneath it all, is still this…

And all he did…was change his shirt.