BY SEAN WINKLEMAN
The boys are whooping it up again in back field behind the Rancho again. I can hear muffled wild voices in the cool dusk air, split by rapid high powered rifle fire. They had won back their land from the Meth freaks about a year ago in some kind of savage Backwoods justice, and they are ready to rumble again. But with who this time? Who has got them riled up at this unholy hour? I’ve heard the vicious rumors that crazy old man Joe is coming to town hell-bent on taking their guns along with his foreign army; mass vaccinations in hand. This madness is being fueled by internet junkies with Fathead logic…The great Zuckerberg machine along with Mongloid Russian hackers full of hate, in dark dusty rooms full of cheap vodka. But this cannot be confirmed in these circles… Not yet at least…Just last week the town was drained of gas by such vile rumors … Uncle Joe was going to shut off the gas supply like a warlord is bound to do in a orgy of fear…Why waste a good fear whacking? These internet-fueled rumors have plagued these poor fiends since this virus reared its ugly head almost a year ago, to the day… a sick adversity… the wild rage is coming to a head… The Trump boys know this… their rabid voices have become a cellulite revolution of Fathead logic; a pure disinformation campaign. They know the snake is in the grass; they just don’t know where the strike will come from, or from whom… But who are these people? Are they Old Regiments of the Bush orgy of Fathead politics? The last of the great white hope, Diabetic warriors hanging on by one last thread, lost in a sea of idiot logic and lack of common sense…
The rotten virus is still upon us, lurking like a beast in the dark, waiting like a rabid dog… a back alley preacher could be making a killing off this herd… new gold tooth perhaps, or a fresh hooker… it would be endless for those swine… God’s work they would call it.. The great media head, swine teeth clicking from day to night, 24 hours of pure adrenalin-fueled fear being led by rat bastards like Dr. Faulchi and countless other Experts acting like a venal cheerleaders… bullshit artists, supreme in their own right… Fear mongering parasites keep humping this national nightmare narrative for all the beans… irrational fears of oxygen-deprived death in some dark back room, choking on a respirator, alone, like a sick dog waiting to be euthanized …cheap deaths in unholy hours, that’s what they feed into the great fear machine. Churning out new ways to die by the great plague of 2021, an invisible enemy which there is no way to hide from… the perfect storm… white fat knuckles grasp the fear. Choke out the logic and keep pumping the fear machine till the end…The boys know this and they are preparing for the great hammer to come down on them. They know the score; it could be a long lost prophecy and they’ve been waiting for it… only the Man knows for sure. It’ll be a surprise for all in the end, or just maybe it’s an old Beelzebub trick. Either way, they’re both having a hoot with it too… this is a national psychosis in it’s purest, ugliest form… in the big cities, lines form waiting for government-run shot centers, juicing up untested vaccines into arms of the willing people, fueled by propaganda that would make Joseph Stalin giddy. Vaccines with unknown side effects – just last night I heard a man’s skin peeled off in some kind of freak adverse side effect… sweet Jesus, in five years will we be birthing wild-eyed feral cannibalistic children with nocturnal eyes and a scaly third arm? Hell, maybe they could do a better job than this shit storm of a government, led by a living corpse puppet so-called President… No, the big boys are back in the seat on this one and Joe knows this… maybe there are such things as werewolves, and the elitist do drink the blood of infants on a full moon cycles; or maybe We are the true monster lurking with yellow eyes and black teeth… only the good Lord knows for sure as they say. Not me; I’ll be raising hybrid chickens with a neurotic German Shepherd, tending the garden and watching… waiting…
