Prose and musing by Sam I am.
Writer of cyberpunk, dystopian fiction, and nonfiction. Plus whatever drives me at the time.
His vermin-filled intestines spill forth bi-libelous delectations that only he can abide. And whatever driveling bullshit comes out of his mouth. I am not going to miss him. I do not think he is funny or charming or a ‘bit of a fool’, I think he is a very clever dangerous man who only has had his own gratification through gluttony, hypocrisy, and lies. And so many bought into his bullshit and bemoan his leaving. I am stunned. Shocked. Horrified by what I hear and see, but not surprised.
The king of the clowns lies speechless on the floor, but he is not deflated. If you look closely enough you can see his smirk.
He never gave a f#@k anyway. None of them do. So, what a surprise. It’s tax cuts and tax cuts and oh maybe some tax cuts. Tax cuts that will never come. That will never be a reality without us falling deeper into depths of debt it would become unrecognisable. So, he lives, the king of clowns, just before the shit really hits the fan.
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Photo by Heitor Verdi:
