-n the New Dream I’m the President
I kinda always suspected that
I didn’t have any proof, though, so
I’m in this impressively art directed command and control center
-it’s very Ken Adam-
deep underground
IMAX sized telescreens giving me total perspective on globally scaled fucknesses
wars, climate catastrophe, storms, earthquakes, volcanoes, plagues, famines, network cop shows, alien autopsies, edited for television versions of R-rated movies
I’m trying to maintain a stoic mask of authority
but every time they say fairy godmother in the censored version of Reservoir Dogs
well
I’m waging a one-man War-On-All-Of-The-Tears, ain’t I
a general approaches
“Mr. President.”
I say, “You rang?”
“Mr. President. The situation is critical. We’re beyond Dialectics. We’re well past Quixote. We’re at Multicart. You must give the order, Mr. President!”
I nod grimly. I put some steel into my voice as I say, ”Unleash Fraternity, Liberty, Equality.”
-hard cut to me standing in the unemployment line.
I have only myself to blame.
Nobody elected me to establish Paradise on Earth. That would be driving a stake into the heart of the Protestant Grind Ethic. Which would result in Final Relaxation. Can’t have that.
-hard cut to me standing tall amidst the fires of Climate Inferno.
My meats alchemize into piercingly bright diamond hard surfaces.
A giant mechanical claw grabs me, installs me in the back of the throat of a titanic robot dragon.
The robot dragon is offered at a reasonable price point for the adult collector’s market at all major retailers.
I can’t complain.
Literally-
