i never thought to see the death-knell of this country; the long slow death-rattle and thatter-thump of crooked heels tatt-tattering the pavement, as that small heart bursts its outer confines and grieves out the ears and noses;
the cracking out of falsely servile poses.
by hook or by crook and all that is in between.
i have no words to speak but i must scream.
and watch the fail of heaven’s promised rain upon the parched and scattered earth, feel that seared and quaking ground heave up, expel the loathesome carabuncles from off its shore.
i thought to see a brief surcease from watching that slow decline and fall; but to see the ignomy of empire, in all its seediness, cloak itself about the thing to hide its shriveled loins. well. for some, at least, the last scales have fallen from the eyes, the fizzling smoke and mirrors fade away, to see, with bitter dread, the creaking machine that croaks and craves for blood to feed its frenzy.
perhaps the myth was ever thus, a broken claptrap horse dressed up in gaudy finery. but now, at least for me, the last threads of finery have fallen away. do i see it now for what it is? am i awake, at last, from my pale slumber, to see the clouds of nightmare brooding in the sky? or perhaps i only stir, fall deeper into sleep.
i have no heart to find the silver in this woe, paint it how you will. what hope, when all that falls is steaming blood and ash? and i partake, against my will or heart, in the slaughtering of thousands who have done me no wrong, but who i wrong, by simply being who and where i am.
the city on the hill has guttered out.
Yes!
And not just yes, but FUCK YES. What I may or may not be seeing with the curtain briefly blown back in a surprise breeze to reveal the wizard beneath: this is where the crazies come from. This is why the voice of the prophet can be so easily mistaken for that of a madman. (I use “prophet” hesitently there… eh…) I to sit here knowing that if this vast machine were doing its own thing, regardless of the button-pushings and lever-pullings of its (supposed) operators, no one individual might have any idea that it was going on. A massive puzzle.
This is what wacko-conspiracy theories are made of. But wacko-conspiracy theorists are good places behind which to hide real conspiracies. Do we not have that word for a reason?
There was talk before the election that the fraud would not be a massive thing, like the problems in Florida in 2000; that they would instead be only visible as a compilation of many little irregularities across the country.
Those battle-ground states polled so close. No reason, of course, to believe the media-polling should in any way reflect reality. After all it’s just some kind of not-thorough-enough method for collecting data. But what is the real election? Is it thorough enough? Who would know if the software in these machines weren’t programmed to switch one out of every 100, 200, 300 votes for X into a tally for Y? Maybe the software only does this on election day, by date. Maybe only after a certain number of votes have been entered. Maybe after a signal is received by a component that is set to receive such but is undocumented.
It’s all crazy. It’s impossible for me to know how they tested this, and I’m reading reading reading everything I can. How many of Ohio’s machines were Diebold machines? I haven’t found a polling-time number on that yet; I know that at some point they backed out on electronic machines in many counties. What of Florida? These swing-states are labelled such because they are so maddeningly close that only by actually having an election can we know the result.
BUT HOW CAN WE KNOW? There is no one else tracking what everyone voted for. There’s nothing for them to verify (in many cases.) It’s all there on the screen, then it’s in the machine’s memory, then it’s sent to the tally place. That software is opaque.
It’s a plot from a bad movie. It’s the ravings of a lunatic. But it’s POSSIBLE. I can find nothing yet to convince me that it isn’t possible. Just the possibility of that spectre looming there is frightening.
Those states are where they’d program the cheat in. Those which were going to be close and which were going to be requisite for a win. So close that there’s no way to objectively know that every voter who picked X was registered to have picked X in the final tally.
And so I am off here screaming, wondering, and taking up all this space on your righthalf.
I am the moonbat. Goo goo gajoob.