Here we are again. Another week, another seven days of things getting progressively worse, another small shred of hope in this world extinguished. The fetid goblin squatting in the White House is openly plotting to steal the upcoming election, and the mainstream press doesn't seem to care. Surely our laws and rules and regulations will prevent such a thing from occurring! They keep saying that, but this rotten ghoul keeps getting away with things that by all rights should have ended any American presidency in a fair and just world. But we don't live in a fair and just world. We live in a dystopian nightmare from which we cannot awaken, and every single time we think we've hit rock bottom, our stomachs lurch sickeningly as we fall a little further, and a primal terror grips us as we realize that we simply don't know how far we can fall.
Cowardly Democrats keep pretending that their "colleagues" on the other side of the aisle are somehow beholden to the same antiquated system of rules that they use to govern, attempting to appeal to their sense of decency, of fairness, of humanity. But the Republicans don't have any decency. They have no fairness. No humanity. These feckless, craven, hollow creatures have proven this time and time again, and yet the supposed "good guys" continue to act as though playing by all the rules and not rocking the boat, pushing politely for incremental change and compromising when faced with light resistance will somehow save the day in the end. They're delusional fools who refuse to open their eyes and see this world for what it truly is. And we're trapped in the middle, suffering at the mercy of powers that do not care whether we live or die.
There is no Hell. There is no God in Heaven. If there were, these monsters that are dragging us kicking and screaming toward our own extinction would be stricken down by the cold gaze of a blood-drenched angel and there would be justice in this broken world. But to quote author Terry Pratchett's personification of Death: There's no justice. There's just us.
There's also podcasts.
Podcasts like Trappo's Chap House, which has returned for another brand-spanking new episode of... stuff... for you to attempt to enjoy. You'll be glad to know that since the podcast went live on iTunes last week, our numbers have doubled, which is fucking phenomenal. Now I know that sounds amazing at first glance, but since our pre-iTunes numbers were ridiculously small, doubling essentially nothing isn't all that grand. But hey, I'll take a victory wherever I can get it these days. Everything's on fire, and we're all taking the fast lane down the highway to Hell, but Trappo just keeps on keeping on, shouting incoherently into the void while hitchhiking on the soft shoulder.
This week's episode covers a broad number of topics, including memories of eating at restaurants before the apocalypse, the last time Ky gave somebody a piece of his artwork and the reason why he's never done so again, BOURBON, the career of actor Michael Rennie, the latest Tool album, the latest goings-on with the band Disturbed and how many fists they may or may not have, and because he's never far from my mind, Uncle Glenn Danzig makes yet another appearance. Don't you want to listen to it? Don't you want to inject it into your fucking veins?! Go check it out on iTunes or just listen below via the handy-dandy embedded player.
Chapter 22: Gort's Bloomin' Onions!
That's it for now, friends. I'll try to be in a better mood next week, since next week marks the beginning of October, which means next week also marks the beginning of HALLOWEEN, and I have something very special in store for you lucky ducks. As to what that "something special" might be, I'm sure you've already figured it out. But just in case you haven't, I'm not going to just tell you what it is, because it's not October yet, and you can't open your presents until then.
No peeking, kids!
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