I’d like, for once, to argue with people who’d gotten their preposterous opinions on their own, reflecting the genuine shapes of their own minds as buffeted by private experience… rather than arguing indirectly with The State’s proxies in the form of brainwashed consumers who inadvertently ingest opinions and pre-fab personality traits with the media products they absorb like addicts.
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'T's that shit you let fly that lays the ground on which you sound bitter or crazy for your all of a sudden one day saying something that implies your not thinking that shit should fly. Like, by the time of the meddlesome mother's objection to her kid's having to recite "under God" in school, you missed the boat on calling out in front of God & her PTA just how retarded the goddamn Pledge is in the first place.
How many y'all ever really thought 'Ye' was a musical genius? Name one track he's ever done that even ever accidentally rocked your brain stem. I mean, what's his actual legacy defining moment?
Can't one at least take pleasure in Maga cum Dickface's abrading his anus all over the oval rug, branding the presidential seal, or is it that his followers' certain justification of their hero's soiling of the inviolable accessory just grate on each last nerve that conveniently responds to trumped up triggers? As in, the only reason that shit's sacred is because of them. Fuckin' hypocrites. Imagine the gall it takes to profess to hold something dear that you don't hold dear.
The following image is from 1885, one century before the rhetoric of the Ray Gun Revolution's being cemented in history. For the Millennial, an adequate comparison for context would be when Bo Rama was re-elected, his nation's approving his legacy in all of its vainglorious disposition matrix, which is just another stone along the path of what will continue to pass for one of those many feel good American moments one's questioning is questionable.
Stralauer Plz, Berlin-Friedrichshain 1885 (Am Ostbahnhof 2018)
