By William J Mullen
November 22, The Hills of New Hampshire
I have learned how to gauge what comes out of people’s mouths not by how they look, or talk, but rather on what their intent is. What is the basis of intent in an individual? I’ve met some pretty crusty, rough, scary looking people who thought very deeply about life and were of the largest of heart. I’ve met others who at first glance are the sweetest, cutest, perhaps desirable even, who in time reveal the ugliness, bitterness, and hatred. The new American Hatred.
Fox news has found a way to maximize on the later. Tits and all.
But let’s be real here. Hatred has become a badge of honor. It’s flaunted all over now. Before, back in the day – the day before the religious freaks had subjugated the GOP during the political wars of the late Seventies and early Eighties. Back then the hatred was, like a landmine, lurking just under the soft surface of the national underbelly. Jackassed snake oil salesmen selling you your ticket to heaven came along and made huge waves in huge numbers in the early Eighties. And the Republican Right took notice. The age of the New Republicans was imminent. Though gaining seats and positions, America was not yet numb enough to fully fall beneath the spell of the union of politics and religion. No, America needed a couple of more decades of commercial programming, racial tension, wars, fear, and hard core pharmaceutical abuses. Then, then, America would be ready.
So we find ourselves here, mid-way through the twenty-teens, and we’re all drunk at the party. Some are running to the bathroom with close friends, some are outside in small smoky groups, some are holding small pieces of paper in their mouths or chewing sinewy fungus, but we’re all, very, very fucked up here. There is a strange music playing that I can’t quite put my finger on, it sounds to me like something out of a Moroccan market, drifting on a breeze of onions and paprika from a far; strange modal tunes. I open my eyes from the dream, more people are at the party. Foreigners are here, among us. The mood at the party abruptly changes, you can see it. You can feel it, the quite, subtle fear. The Fear of a Nation creeps in. This is when the shit rises to the surface let me tell you. Stress people out with the Fear, and next thing, girls are bickering with boys, a couple of guys are arguing louder over by the cash bar which is drawing interest from our foreign friends here. Everyone seems like they really would rather leave, but they’re all too caught up, all caught up in the climax of the episode, too caught up to change the fucking channel. That damn music still keeps droning on from some other room or somewhere, but it’s getting hard to hear over the now deafening din of the room I’m in, like a large field of geese ready to take flight in a panic.
Mid-way through the twenty-teens, an election year upcoming. Chaos all over the fucking place. Unprecedented times, really. The UN just passed a unanimous article unifying the entire planet against ISIS. This is big history. Tread very carefully history. This is shit could go very, very ugly, history. If you read history, you know – pre WW1 and WW2 – the social conditions – too many big players…….. refugees, political crazies. Big history people.
The whole party seemed to be crashing all at once. People started looking like creatures, mouths agape, drooling like flies ready to eat garbage. Things were breaking. A tide of wild and riotous crazy was washing through the room. It was like a cock fight. All shrieking and feathers. Waves of insecurity, fight or flight, eyes dilated, skin sweaty.
Bernie is a nut job.
Bernie is one step away from foaming at the mouth at any given moment. His hair is crazy. He talks the straightest no holds barred shit one could ever hope for in a politician. He is not pretty, in any way. Except for his intent. This man intends on being a leader at the level of FDR. What a bar to shoot for. Without argument the greatest U.S. president in history. FDR brought the country out of the Great Depression and led it through WW2. FDR is responsible for the incredible prosperity of the mid 20th century. Like it or lump it, the social system he and his teams set up are what lifted this country out of The Depression and uplifted and built the fucking middle class; leveled this country out. And in doing so, made the American Dream real.
Bernie is cut from this mold. You can see it in his eyes. He wants to help. Bottom line. The man comes with the agenda of genuinely helping the US reclaim the chance of the American Dream for the masses again. He is a crazy, crazy son of a bitch.
Hillary
Hillary is kind of like someone born trans-gender. I don’t view her as either democrat or republican, though she is definitely not one of the Republican Conservative Nationalists. No, she is a pro politician. That is pretty much it. She stands by her money base. Big Corp. Though, Hillary is not bone-assed mad like the RNC field. No.
Hillary has intent though, of course. Intent to keep status quo, the profitable friction between sides, the I’ll get my social program here and you can screw the tax payer there kind of status quo.
Don
Donald Trump is that witless asshole who talks louder than everyone else in the room, permeating the air with bad cologne, and a lack of self control. Donald is the embodiment of the new American Hatred.
Intent. Yes, intent again. His intent, right from the get go has been to incite hatred. From the first speeches before he even confirmed he was running, straight through to current, he fills his speeches with hatred. He scapegoats vicious groups like the poor, young women, and Muslims. He uses spite to paint his international policy views. The intent here is all bad. This man is a dictator in waiting. The hatred he spews is unfortunately similar to that of Hitler, Mussolini, Franco. Unfortunate.
Unfortunate we live in times so similar to those days, pre world war days.
The party finally calms down to the point people start leaving, coming to their senses, intent on simply getting home. Simple intent. Hailing taxis, drinking coffee in all night diners, walking though silent streets. Standing, looking at the stars. Listening for nothing.
Intent should be simple. We’re all just trying to get home, really. We’re all just trying to get through….. the ugliness, bitterness, and hatred.
Tits and all.
