Listen to it. You hear that? It’s the sweet, sweet sound of nothing. Hair Twitler is no more. His orange, racoony face and urine yellow cotton candy hair?
Gone.
For the time being, relish this. Bask in this silence, this moment, this wonderful time of erasure. Yes it took the near overthrow of government and potential bloodbath at the Capitol for the libertarian nabobs of Silicon Valley to finally wake up and smell the fascism, but finally, he went too far. Corporate America is canceling this cancer on our nation. Think about that time, over 12 years ago now, before John McCain thrust upon our land the 2nd dumbest human being, unbolting the closet door where the republican party, for the most part, kept their crazies locked up and out of public view. Think about the time before birtherism. Think about the time before a semi-celebrity TV host and failed businessman (as well as serial adulterer and prolific consumer of KFC chicken), convinced the GOP base (including evangelicals) that he was godlike in his morals, chaste in his relations, and a billionaire who understood the Joe the Plumbers of the world and their plight. For the time being, and it may be short, this time is like that time. The before times, so to speak.
For now this menace, this exemplar of wanton ignorance, this bankrupter of casinos, is left storming the halls of the WH, yelling at drapery, demanding oil tankers full of diet coke be brought to him, pronto! The lighting is all wrong! He yells into cold marble floors. And where are the gold columns I wanted installed in the executive bathroom!!!! But then, as the reality sets in for him (and no one answers him), he sits down at his tiny desk and pulls out the crayons the staff left for him in the top drawer, his head points up towards the ceiling as if staring into the eclipse, and a sudden thought crosses his mind, startling him because he is not used to such a thing. But there it is.
What is he without his twitter box? He ponders. And if he is nothing without twitter, what does that say about him as a man? His tiny hands? How would he ever endure such an existential crisis, but if he could, think of it, if he could endure, could he seek redemption through it? A phoenix rising from the ashes?
Just kidding. He doesn’t think like that. No. For now he’s just yelling at walls. His orange has turned to a wildfire red and his hair lays over his shoulders as even the propane tank level of hair spray begins to abandon him, and the facade starts to unglue.
He is alone. He is scared. And he has no one. Except for Mark Meadows. Which means, he has no one.
Listen to it. Smile. Relax for a moment and consider what is happening.
Then continue to push for the erasure. Cancel. Them. ALL.
Every single one of them. No mercy. No second guessing. Force the reckoning. And make them ALL pay for this attack upon our nation. Remember, we were told after 9/11 that everything has changed. And Never forget. Well guess what. Following January 6th 2021, Everything has changed.
Never forget and never let up. They tried to burn our country down. We will never, ever forget.
