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As someone who voted for Clinton in the general election, can confirm I have a mania for devouring the flesh and blood of the depressed, Rust Belt masses that borders on the sexual. It didn't start out that way, of course. I was at the local Starbucks' Chablis-&-Transgender-Awareness event when someone passed me an especially chewy canappe. On closer inspection, the filling was an arthritic thumb with the peculiar piquancy one only gets from a life of hard but honest toil in a UAW certified auto plant. Naturally I threw it away but by that point I had already swallowed half of it. I was unable to purge the savory but immoral morsel lest my vomit splattering on the encircling transgenders be taken as an expression of distaste for their gender identification. Looking back it was there that I was damned to neoliberalism, choosing to taint myself with the stolen vitae of a humble unemployed factory worker rather than risk the censure of my peer group. TO BE CONTINUED
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Mar 28, 2017 05:11
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| # ¿ May 6, 2024 16:32 |
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