Hope is hard to find on the road to nowhere

The body politic is diseased.

American Apocalypse

The body politic is diseased, its stench rises like foul air from a sewer. The disease is riddled with corruption and lies and it is repulsive. People react with fear, hate and violence, which like a covid, is contagious and spreads across America.

The cities become unlivable, people flee to the suburbs, hatred and violence in hot pursuit. Citizens are hounded and terrorized, their homes invaded. They call 911 but no help arrives, the police have been eradicated and America is over medicated.

Opioids, booze and angel dust, help us Jesus, in God we trust. Angels love and the devil hates, take your pick, choose your poison, poison your opponents, it’s an art form in Russia.

What can we do? asks the common man and Susie Q. Will my vote make a difference, will a different party of the same old corruption make a difference, or is the party over?

Lunatics throw slogans around like firebombs — Black Lives Matter, Blue Lives Matter, All Lives Matter, but in the end nothing matters as they topple statues and topple the presidency and you abandon your residency.

You head for the woods and live in a cabin and arm yourself with automatic rifles and when you run out of ammunition you hit the road with nothing to lose.

Everyone you ever loved is dead so what the hell, you live free or die on the road to nowhere.

Art by Ralph Steadman

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