Adderall and Starbucks

a Doom and Reprisal report from Ford Wenty

 

There is a very special brand of stench that wafts over the ivied gates of suburbia.  It is a cult of conformity, the same cliques and posturing as the school yard, but with much larger stakes.  The peer pressure here is realized in ever expanding credit lines and homes that, while impressive from the crisply manicured curb, are not homes at all; instead hollow shells of a house-poor budget. This parade of self possessed posers are the new vassals of the shrinking middle-class, thanes of mediocrity who sell or work for insurance companies or engage in more blatant forms of thievery, like marketing. Were it not for those who might take the occasion to insert race into this report, I might refer to them as the monochrome set.

These sociological petri dishes have spawned much that has grown hideous and abhorrent about this country. A smug fog of complacency hangs permanently over the uniform lots, wreathing seductively about the community marker at the entrance. Ethereal fingertips beckon to the unsuspecting motorists who pass by on their morning commute, calling out “join us”. Cheery reminders like “if you lived here you’d be home now”. This and other notes of the siren song have played and ensnared many a man, robbing him of his jeans, his work boots and his balls in exchange for khakis and tasseled loafers. Testicles are neither required nor desired in these estrogen infused encampments.

There is one of these gelded wonders currently running for the office of Governor of the state of Ohio. No, not that bug eyed piece of worm shit that has been feeding off of the public trough for the past forty years. The other one. Where I come from we do not utter their name, the clan of wannabes who could never escape the shadow of the county landfill. The candidate was sacrificed upon the altar of public service at birth, the afterbirth mixed with an elixir to create a tonic against any future indiscretions. It is rumored that his mother distributed marijuana cupcakes to McGovern campaign staffers in ’72, though any who might remain to verify this have mysteriously vanished. 

He’s been carefully bred and groomed for higher service, inoculated against any taint of reputation, even with a brief stint as part of the Obama administration on his resume.  A walking PC billboard with that same mechanical charm of an Al Gore and almost as much sincerity. His campaign stops scrupulously avoid any kind of backlighting, lest anyone might see the strings. Never mind the political party. Let me tell you who this guy is.

Back in high school there was always the kid who excelled in all the classes and was eager to curry favor with the adults. Bright enough, talented enough, but still something wanting from the individual’s character. Think Harold Lauder in Steven King’s The Stand. The kid who couldn’t play any sports, instead excelling at other electives like drama. And when springtime rolled around for the big musical he would always land a part, a prominent part, but never the lead role. That always went to the jock, the popular ne’er do well Billy Bob. Dumb as a post but everybody loved him because he knew how to be the life of the party. You remember this guy. You can still see that smoldering scowl of envy, that one so obviously inferior in breeding should upstage him! This is the putz that had Tuesday’s homework done on Saturday afternoon so he could sit down and enjoy the Lawrence Welk show with his mommy.

These people spend the rest of their lives trying to settle that score, but never by getting their own hands dirty. They employ hired thugs like lawyers and bureaucracy for this. The candidate seems to have forgotten the blue collar place that he comes from. No beer and cigarette crowd for our boy, no sir. Adderall and Starbucks, that’s the house he plays to. 

My advice to you young people in Ohio, especially you members of Stoner Nation, is this: sit this election out.  You have NO good choices in this Governor’s race. The results will be the same either way, only a question of degree. I bless the day I shook the wretched dust of Ohio from my shoes.

 

Ford Wenty report end, 17 Sept. 2018

 

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