not in our stars, but in ourselves
[This might be the last of these that I do, but no promises.]
“Where must we go, we who wander this wasteland, in search of our better selves?”
That, indeed, is the question. In the years to come, when President Dunham has accidentally vaporized the oceans or President Koch XII has managed to frack us right into the earth’s core, we’ll probably all be too focused on finding sufficient air to breathe to worry too much about finding our better selves. For now, it’s not quite too late. With that in mind, I humbly present the main players in this 2016 electoral drama as characters in Mad Max: Fury Road.
Of course. No one else is even close. None but Sanders has had the courage and daring to try to hijack business-as-usual in order to rescue us all from tyranny. None but Sanders has managed to survive so long in a world utterly hostile to him, not only intact, but (up until the time he tried to break away) with the respect of his colleagues. Remember: Furiosa isn’t some nobody at the Citadel. She’s tough enough and revered enough to lead a convoy, and shrewd enough to allow her security detail to eliminate themselves as they eliminate the threat from the Buzzards. Sanders hasn’t been in Congress for the past twenty-five years because he’s some lucky upstart. Clearly, he knows how to play the game, and he’s figured out – up to a point – how to use it against the person he’s trying to outrun. His opponent has nearly unlimited resources, and powerful friends; but Sanders has successfully turned those into a liability in the eyes of his supporters. He may not quite make it to the end (although it goes without saying that I sincerely hope he does) – but he will have changed the game pretty irrevocably. Now we know that there can and should be a Green Place. Let’s hope we get there in time.
As Establishment as it gets, and as Deep State as it gets. Clinton, like Joe, seems to assume that women are her property – electorally speaking. Her surrogates, who coordinate directly with her official campaign, will paint anyone who opposes them as a misogynistic white male. If, say, a Sanders supporter happens to be female, she’s usually shamed and smeared as a clueless bimbo who’s just doing this for male attention. It’s all incredibly cynical, but we’ll get to Clinton surrogates in more depth momentarily. As for Clinton/Joe herself: she has all the wealth imaginable; she keeps it from her underlings; she’s tough enough to be willing to ride into battle herself (but leaves the real fighting to the War Boys); and she is a fucking war criminal. Yaaaaaaas, slay queen. Except literally. Like Immortan Joe, her entire operation goes into complete meltdown mode if things don’t go the way she wants them to go. This may explain why her surrogates are so utterly hysterical, even when they think they’re winning – but again, more on that in a moment.
He’s disgusting and he’s useless and he’s probably a pervert. Also, he is basically on the same side as Immortan Joe; see his wedding photos. Incidentally, all you’d have to do to break Trump is call him Fat Donald. He’d freak out. He’d shit his pants. Get on it, Twitter.
Before this election cycle, we were aimless. We wandered a world of fire and blood. We were trying only to survive an idiotically unfair world, one that seemed to pump out the same uselessly focus-grouped candidates, year after year. In the rare event that an exciting candidate came out, we were invariably disappointed when all that fine oratory turned into deporting kids and authorizing drone strikes. We were forcibly along for the ride, our lifeblood taken from us against our will to inject energy into a dying and corrupt regime. And then, somehow or other, a challenger appeared. A challenger who wanted a better world. A challenger who wanted our input and opinions. A challenger who just wanted to make sure that future generations weren’t doomed to life as cannon fodder or to a world that was hopelessly barren. So along we went, helping however we could, offering that lifeblood when the challenger needed it, and doing everything possible to ensure that s/he made it to the Green Place. After that, we’ll have to move on, probably, but I think we all hope we will have done enough to change a few people’s lives for the better.
Where the Bernie Bros have decided to support their candidate because they believe in his policies and in the great amount of good he could do as president (or because, like, we all have internalized misogyny and, like, don’t know any better, lol!), the Clintonites – the well-paid, well-insulated, way out-of-touch professional pundits that she has doing her bidding in the media – are in it because they expect some sort of reward. They think they’re awaited in Walhalla, or in Clinton’s administration, or something. Really, she’ll shrug them off as soon as they become unnecessary, because they are – one and all – mediocre. That doesn’t mean they aren’t fucking shit up in the meantime, though. A couple of them – and I won’t say who, because they are hysterical cunts who have Google alerts for their own goddamn names, I assume – got a guy fired from his job on Friday because he called one of them a scumbag. (I don’t know about you, but I do think advocating for making Libya pay us with oil for bombing them is a scummy move; but hey, that’s politics, baby! You can “authorize” genocide as long as you couch it in genteel language, but god forbid you employ any ad homs.) Anyway, they are all sick in the head and the soul. They are all expendable, as far as their leader is concerned. They have no idea what’s really coming for them: oblivion.
Here’s some footage of the primary contests over the past few months. And more to go. Whoopee.