This Carbon Based Life

By David Glenn Cox

I know, I know, it’s getting crazy out there. A grand and fine time to be alive. This is one story you’ll tell the grandkids all about. As you shiver around the fire, drinking from the broken edge of mason jar. A story all about the dead enders. Das Hitler Youth, the true believers. The new Confederates and the new shiny lost cause. If only they could have held on to Little Round Top.

But the Twumptanic has struck the iceberg. And Twump has taken the lifeboats. Leaving the faithful in a frightful, tough spot. They squirm like nightcrawlers, when asked if Mike Pence was correct and Twump was wrong? They want to agree with Mike Pence, while not admitting that Twump was in anyway ever wrong. “Do, I really have to admit there is no Santa Claus, in front of all these people?”

I imagine that after Jesus returned from the dead; it was a little uncomfortable around the office. The boss got killed, donations are way off. We all ran away and hid. Then, oh shit, here comes the boss again! “Some get stoned, some get strange. Sooner or later, it all gets real.” – Neil Young (Not available on Spotify)

A delineation between proselytized and prostitute, the true believers and those just seeking advantage. Those just looking to get laid, and those just seeking out the shortest line to the top. That instant, where it’s just us mortals again, and what do we do now? Orange Jesus is flickering, on an off in the distance, like a “no vacancy sign” in the office window of a cheap hotel. What do we do now?

Elected officials calling into doubt elections, will inevitably be hung by their own rope. “Everyone’s election is illegitimate, except mine. This system is really corrupt… over there.” Caught on the fence between wonderland and reality. And every day, wonderland drifts a little further and further away from us. Wonderland becomes what was, rather than what is. It ceases to be made of real and becomes the whole cloth of the imagination. “Boy, those were the days; a soda pop was only a nickel, and we could fly to South America on the Pan Am Clipper!”

In Douglas County, Colorado the locals elected a new “Orange” school board majority. Voting do away with mask mandates and any kind of policy for inclusion. And then just for fun, they fired the school administrator. He wasn’t, what’s the word I’m looking for? Pliable? He wouldn’t bend over and hold the Astro glide, so they fired him with two years left on his contract. But who will replace him?

Because of education having that well known liberal bend, it will be difficult to find a qualified educated applicant. Stupid enough to put their head in that lion’s mouth.  No point in moving to dusty Colorado for six months. The first time you say “No” to their petition to recite the Lord’s prayer every morning… Jetson! You’re fired!

Republicans in congress blame Nancy Pelosi for the January 6^th debacle. She’s weaponized this! She could have just been cool about it and looked the other way. But no! She wants to make a big deal out of it, just trying to make us look bad! She’s using this for partisan political reasons. After all, all we did, was to try and overthrow the lawful government of the United States, for fuck’s sake. No need to blow this thing, all out of proportion!

This is what they say, but if it is what they really believe, maybe they shouldn’t drive or operate machinery. Nancy Pelosi ruined our bank robbery by calling the cops on us! Stuck, frozen, caught in between two worlds. Between support for Twump and sedition, and the impending reality.

Another day, another Republican crosses over from the dark side. This time, Lisa Murkowski defends Pence, Cheney, Kinzinger and Romney. Now is the true test of  their faith. Do you support the Messiah now? That he’s gone from us? Now that the documents are being aired, and the conspiracies and illegalities are being exposed? It’s easy to love the Messiah when he brings the wine and passes out loaves and fishes. But there is a Denny’s manager in Jerusalem, with a dine and dash supper ticket for twelve.

Politics is the art of guessing what’s coming next and getting out of the way of it. Twump was, not is, reality is, not was. That fat orange sun is setting into the horizon, the only thing getting larger about Twump is his waistline. He holds his rallies in carefully chosen enclaves. “See? It’s just like the good ole days. Remember, when I used to say this? And we’d all wear baseball caps and jump around and dress alike? Well, just you people did.”

What happens to the cult when the cult leader fades away? When he can’t bend the spoon with his mind or walk on water?

It’s a remarkable time to be alive, historic like during the Lincoln or Kennedy assassinations. They were taken with the cult to the extreme, and now the cult has popped like a soap bubble in the bathtub. They wake from their dime store hypnosis, “This is all political. We didn’t just dance the Funky Chicken, for the last four years!”

The Committee has just subpoenaed the fake electors from seven states. “Come all ye faithful, joyful and triumphant. Oh, come ye, oh come ye to Washington D.C.” Tell us of your new faith! Preach brother, tell us how you were knocked off your ass on the road to Jerusalem. When did you first have the idea to forge documents? Was that your idea? Or was it divinely inspired, by the officers of the orange Messiah?

In your faith and love of your Messiah, it never occurred to you that you might face time in federal prison, did it? “Well gee, what harm could there be in just going down to the state capitol and signing our names to some phony Federal election documents? The messiah wants us too.”

A snake without a head wriggles pointlessly. A head without a snake goes nowhere. The cult without a cult leader fades. The cult leader rules the junk yard, with his scepter made from a toilet brush, accepting praise from ghosts.  But the bloom is now off the rose. And long past the sell by date and sooner or later. Someone must be made to answer for all this, when the fantasy gets too real.