It's a Death Cult

Woke up with Blue Öyster Cult’s song Don't Fear the Reaper in my head. Why?

Have you seen our government in the past few months?

I mean, there’s J.D. Couchfuck, the pudgy faced, eyeliner sporting, diplomacy impaired, dimwitted, and assholian Vice President who proudly, boldly, says that he makes up shit to gull the rubes.

He insisted on meeting the Pope and short hours later the Supreme Pontiff was dead. Coincidence? I think the fuck NOT.

VP Name-of-the-Week visited India in late April and at least two dozen people were killed in a terrorist attack in Kashmir. Just now I read that India has retaliated, bombing Pakistan – 26 humans are dead. Would this have happened if Vance had stayed home? Doubt it.

We should have known that VP Many Names was a harbinger of death and destruction when he could NOT stop going on about imaginary refugees in Ohio killing children and pets.

VP Lying Sack of Shit has a death itch that he just can’t satisfy.

Then there’s that fucking ghoul, Stephen Miller. Honestly, he already looks like he was the original model for the Grim Reaper.

The puppy killing, grossly cosmeticized, hair extension and botox addicted grandma who simply lives for the chance to send legal US residents to forced labor prison camps, is obviously totally down with the Trump Death Cult too.

I only mention it BUT when Trump finally croaks, when his puppet masters are no longer able to Weekend at Donnie’s his bloated carcass, the horrors won’t be over.

He’s only a figure head, a fluorescent gaslamp to bring in the low wattage bumpkins and pervs. The American, Russian and other miscellaneous oligarchs who own Trump will still be around. It’s only a matter of time before they find their next charismatic (to the patsies, suckers, and fools), morality-free, power obsessed marionette.

One thing’s assured though, the next world wrecking freak (assuming, post-Trump, there’s an Earth left to destroy) won’t be the rizzless, repulsive, bizarre social bumbler, Vance.

Seasons don't fear the reaper
Nor do the wind, the sun or the rain
We can be like they are