Lame Duck: The Fabled Damned of Nations

Bush is alone, which is exactly where his pea brained Ayn Randjob philosophy wants him: Vigilante, Paladin, The Pale Rider, The Last "Just" Man in a world of sin, and the will of the people be damned, he'll burn the mother fucker down if he feels like it.

Yes, feels like it.

A guy like him doesn't need to think, because he instinctively knows what is right, because he is our Republic. His Will is Our Will, and his will, evidentally, is to scourge the planet in a nihilistic rape fantasy worthy of "The Circle of Blood".

Well, it was a nice run, wasn't it? A Peaceful, Free Republic, I mean.

It's not like somebody didn't see this coming, though...



"The terror answerd: I am Orc, wreath'd round the accursed tree:
The times are ended; shadows pass the morning gins to break;
The fiery joy, that Urizen perverted to ten commands,
What night he led the starry hosts thro' the wide wilderness:
That stony law I stamp to dust: and scatter religion abroa;
To the four winds as a torn book, & none shall gather the leaves;
But they shall rot on desart sands, & consume in bottomless deeps;
To make the desarts blossom, & the deeps shrink to their fountains,
And to renew the fiery joy, and burst the stony roof.
That pale religious letchery, seeking Virginity,
May find it in a harlot, and in coarse-clad honesty
The undefil'd tho' ravish'd in her cradle night and morn:
For every thing that lives is holy, life delights in life;
Because the soul of sweet delight can never be defil'd.
Fires inwrap the earthly globe, yet man is not consumd;
Amidst the lustful fires he walks: his feet become like brass,
His knees and thighs like silver, & his breast and head like gold."
-William Blake, America a Prophecy, 1793-1821, (Copy O, Plate 10)

via Rintrah Roars