The Dumpsterfire Economy, how factual.
I am at home and social distancing like a lot of people today. After five days of this crap and listening to the talking heads broadcast intellectibabble out of Manhattan Island near Rockefeller Center with its Atlas Shrugged sculpture, I have to let off a head of steam.
I have endured enough lies.
Footage showed up of Mike Bloomberg telling people that he could teach anyone to farm. That is clearly bullshit. Manattan Island does not have enough sunlight left to grow enough food to sustain themselves. Their Harvard educated lawyers sold their rights to ancient sunlight so that they could build taller penis towers and gaze down on the artists of their Broadway Ave, the great cooks and wait staff of Hell's Kitchen of 10th Ave, and the tailors of their Garment District between them.
Meanwhile Huffungton Post, which is based at 770 Broadway Ave and was once a bright light in telling the facts, has been reduced trying to make a buck by churning the question of whether recycling is effective? Nonsense. Making a buck by selling nonsense is not the new normal. It has been the <i>modus operandi</i> of Manhattan Island since around 1985 IMO. From my perspective it seems that the elite inner circle of that city has been hoping for incresingly refined votes on how to cure their ills since then. Their inner circle sold the rest of America on STEM education and being hypnotized and voting on their numbers and polls while the inner circle could not figure out how to maintain a simple subway system. They are at their wits end.
At some suicidal breaking point the Manhattan Island inner circle must admit that it is simply greedy in a Biblical sense of scale. I realized that during my umpteenth trip to that swirling toilet of math and gamification when I was approached by two college aged kids on diametrically opposed corners of an intersection near a Trump Hotel? that I regretfully stayed at. They both represented some organization that has left a bad cum taste in my mouth. The NRA? Similar. Ducks Unlimited? Similar. Rails to Trails Conservancy? Similar. Whatever. Some national organization that is probably organized on Manhattan Island and milks the rest of America a few dollars at a time in lieu of honest votes in our electoral college and seriously deciding what the fuck it is that we are working and fighting together for as a collective of red, white, and blue Americans.
The first kid that approached me for a vote and donation was a hot intellectual broad. She asked me about some shit about walking around Manhattan. Do I prefer this street or that or some fucking data mining neuroeconomic University of Michigan/Mackinac Island teenage republican question that let her feel like she knew what was going on. I told her that I preferred Brooklyn architecture over Manhattan Island architecture and did my best to get away from that broad. I was done voting. As I walked across the street in hopes of getting to LaGuardia and leaving the Trump? shithole the other kid prick stopped me and asked me for my opinion. It was all I could do to not punch him in the face like Lewis Black being offended for being offered almond milk for his coffee.
Goddamnit. I was living a perfect joke nightmare in the eternally profitable and undetectable weld pool of mafia steel, 9/11, and theater worry of what the hell is wrong with American sidewalks.
The other kid, diametrically opposed from the hot intellectual broad and working for the same collective as her, gave me the same sales pitch. Fuck balls. He reminded me of Rama Madugula's gift, poison, of gab. It was not funny anymore. I was done experimenting with CIA, Secret Service, Pussy Grabbing, and all the stupid shit that I had volunteered for since 2013 in the pinball machine of American military training.
As the CDC license plates race in front of my car in Michigan I pray that have I have pointed to the where the dumpster fire is. It is on Manhattan Island and they can't stop themselves.
Inventor's Gate, Central Park.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uI4fVgVVpiw
Manhattan Island would do well by ceremoniously destroying Rockefeller's Plaque near their skating rink and replacing it with the statue of a true public servant like England did on the River Thames. The statue might be of Mike Bloomberg taking a knee and sowing a seed in the shadow of Rockefeller Center.
Get off of your high horse, Manhattan.