Friday, March 12, 2010

Just Below the Surface

The country needs me. I'm indispensable. So, to finally dispel the confusion, yes, I will accept the nomination and assume the office of the presidency when elected. Frankly it astounds me that this hasn't happened already. Just goes to prove how stupid you people are. When I at last have the power I deserve, believe you me things will change, big time.

First, everyone needs to shave their bodies. I hate body hair. It's so animalistic, like monkeys, bowlegged hobbling purple-assed monkeys. And I like this thing with New York, where they're thinking about banning salt in restaurants. Sodium chloride. That's a really good idea. I'll have government security checks and roadblocks where people get mandatory chlorine shots to make hydrochloric stomach acid. Or maybe I'll have it put in the drinking water. More, I mean. Or not the chlorine, the acid. Cut out the middle man. That's another thing I'm against now, capitalism. I'll have my scientists look into it. And I've changed my position again on medical marijuana. At the moment I can't remember what my new position is, but everyone will like it, like my positions on free healthcare and abortion. And gay marriage. These things should be compulsory. Usually I wouldn't think so, but now that I'm going to be president, a whole new world of possibilities has opened up to me. I just can't get rid of this erection. But that's what power is about -- arousal and relief. It will be mandatory.

I like it when a word says what it means. Government. To govern. It's about control. No longer just of criminals and the irresponsible. Everyone. Like in Europe and South America and the rest of the world. It's always been this way, whether from priests or from kings. Someone owns the land, and it's not the people living on it. They owe, not own. Some nouns are verbs. When we say govern, we mean over other people.

I'll have all sorts of interns, 20 years old, and they will service me. Snorkel. A noun and a verb.

Some time ago I wrote the end of the story. Saved it as a draft. It just occurred to me that I could post it. Looked at it again earlier today. The emotional chokehold it had over me is gone. Almost gone. I may still find myself ranting, but it's a habit of thought. Isn't that strange? Time and intermittent sunlight fade even the brightest colors to sepia.

Once I do, I wonder if there will be any reason at all left, for FP. Just a place to be silly?


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