Last night, Hunter's bow-legged mentoring
tacky and pompous,
the very odd and ill-suited
Claghornian affectations he now thinks
are playfully relevant:
"Now I'm a geister, meister Jaybo,
it's all so much creamier,
so much riper so much juice-ier..."
Yes, when he floats my way
the air is now too often plump with
a rotten self-satisfaction.
"I was right all along, Jayjay --
the Vegas reich will all end in a ball of flame.
So now, knowing this,
it's hard to be riled, to be gonzo,
to be persuasively frantic.
It would require...
counterfeit passions. Than which theah is nothin'
moah detestable, suh."
You get the idea. Amid this orotund bubble blowing,
as I recall, about 3 AM,
I said something in passing
about "fucking the new US House Dem Majority
and' the ass it rode in on,"
and got this Panama planter's hat eloquence as a riposte:
"Give up on the House Majority? Why Paine, surely you jest?
That's the express train to the Fuehrer principle you're flirtin' with theah.
there is no option to bug out,
no option to wash the hands,
to abandon the nexus...."
(Imagine flourishes here, big hammy florishes like Toscanini,
as if he's inflating a bright pink bubble puff by puff to head size
"If salvation, if liberation is our providence,
then it will spring to life right there,
on the floor of the House,
Yes it will seem miraculous
for a better future to birth itself there,
where day after day, week after week,
year after year, the nation's general will
gets schtupped in the ass pipe
by demotic gainseekers
and all the the rest of the serpentine
agents of narrow interest...."
Blah blah blah, the fugue state had commenced.
He was contradicting his own prophecy of the fireball.
he was unstoppable,
leaping from peak to peak like a broadly antlered elk, a great
extinct Irish elk in fact.
he went whereever he pleased.
"Unitary presidency be damned ...
the House is our government.
All the rest is squalid implementation,
nothing but sadism, gunplay and theft....
Yes, my fat friend,
despite its membership,
faith in the blessed destiny of the House
must continue to inform the hearts of all honest patriots...."
Every so often
he had pauses, of course --
pregnant ones, for emphasis --
like the late Archbishop Fulton J. Sheen.
During one such, I took advantage of the lull and muttered,
"Jesus, Hunter this type of shit oughta be delivered
with a toga and from atop the balls of your feet!"
He was unfazed, undaunted, unashamed.
so the Democratic caucus is in the hands
of belly-crawlin' Wall Street ghouls,
private lucre junkies,
rabid fan dancers for foreign wars and pillage. But so what?
So what if it festers like a Civil War wound? You abovegrounders need to lash up something
Keep hope alive.
Hold till relieved.
If nothing else,
create a hideous example
of the terrorific capacities
of the potestas popularis
when keenly focused...."
I had to protest the Latin. "'Potestas popularis,' Hunter,for God's sake? Are you
hanging out with A. E. Housman up there, or down there, or wherever you are?"
He brushed me off like a horsefly.
"Call for a prog caucus bolt,
a brutal, crashing, Dem-majority-ending
Hell, if 40 stand up and even just talk the short walk out talk for a minute...
Then when it fails to materialize,
when the pusillanimous little deeer ticks cling to their seats,
ruin the sleep of every last one of them,
by vowing to politically destroy
as many of 'em as possible, one at a time
He interrupted himself.
"I'm talking a symbolic atrocity,
of course --
but very graphic
against some second-tier proggy asswipe.
A ruthless 24/7 spiritual boiling in oil.
Turn the bastard's every immediate context
a howling confrontaion
with a mob of raging online citizen avengers
unwilling -- nay, I say, unable
to curb their atrocious blood lust,
so vivid, so nerve cutting, so deep plowing,
the bugger starts hearing
hallucinations from the gallery,
hearing voices not there,
baying for his vitals....
til the treacherous thimblefull of shit and fraud
flees for his sanity,
racing out of the chamber on all fours,
screaming Enough enough enough!"
Then, as if he'd switched channels
on his own internal cable system,
we were in a quieter place ....
"By the way, Paine,
did you know I've been thinking a lot lately about
And on that enigmatic note, he vanished in a puff of brimstony smoke.