You walk along. You nod. Sleep is staggered shakey. Another day. produce. walk along. interesting times. Mazes have monsters in them. Owl farms and firing ranges. We creek forward. A lost voice, nothing is spoken alight. You hear the news. You wonder. You don’t gasp. Day by day the grind wares us away to dust. What does it mean.

It’s a great sadness. A nation stolen by vipers. Burn the fucker alive they screamed at Dorner. Burn any of us alive they would scream. And that’s the edge of the dark and bloodied ground. There is no hallowed ground in this sick state.

“Burnnnn him. Buuurrrrn Him!” screamed the cops. Trapped like a wolf in a hen house. He had stolen the egg, the secret, dared to speak the truth that they are brutal hags and scoundrels, men unfit to wear the badge.

BURRRN HIM the godamn motherfucker they screamed gnashing their gnarled teeth. Like the naked and the dead they are skeletons with no flesh to hold a morality.

A drone whizzes by overhead. The smell of burnt human flesh. Money for war but no money for food for hungry people, no medicine for the out of work middle class. Do you realize you are rapidly becoming a doom generation? Is it our time to dispense with our humanity? Are we that ready as a nation to move into the zombie state?

Obama the brown baron of belligerence smiles like a haberdasher about to charge ten pence for a one pence cummerbund. You pay the fleecer knowing it’s not right. What a success he has become our first affirmative action president. Well that got him into Punahau but he fit in there being a cold blooded fish it never should have taken him to Harvard.

I’ve got the right to kill you says our president. I’ve got the right to print trillions and give them to Europe says our bank. I’ve got the right to spend endlessly says our congress. I’ve got the right to cheat Ron Paul says the GOP. They all have the right. Taken the right. Taken it from the pathetic, the useless asleep shambling mounds that used to be called America.

No one fights back. no one protests. Everyone marches in circles. Dorner didn’t. Stomp the nail that sticks out. One vicious hammer. Don’t let it hammer on your soul you won’t get out so easily.

A beautiful world awaits just hand over your soul. Take your ritalin and addreal and prozak and you might not mind the doom the creeping doom that confronts us. Slap that bitch away and get back to your whiskey. Is just normal slippage, a lost sock here and there, grift in the store, it happens. Squeeze the bag of freedom until not even air gasps out. Skeletons all of them. We are in their boney clutches. The five stars, the shiney ones. One shock of recognition should be enough for us to realize we have gone so far from the game. On the weekend there will be great games. Burn the Dorner! Torch the Al-Quaeda. Blast the Patriot. Yes my dear, great games are coming, great games are coming. Take the necessary luxeries of life as we bibe away waiting for our retirement from hellacious living a meager ration being inflated away by madmen. Don’t get sick or they’ll take your house with a smile get militia on your ass. Don’t fight back or you’ll be the next terrorist on the news. Walk in circles doom generation. You ain’t goin no-where.

We appreciate our Obama phones, our food stamps and unemployment checks, but we have to ask one final question – What oh kind sirs are you doing for the doomed?