Dominance Games: Speak loudly and club the bastards to death

I think they like it.  Zoos come and go and animals act up and perform and I think they like it.  Trendy rackets of self immolation get thrown under the bus and to the wolves.  I think they like it  The players play and they kiss their own behinds.  I think they like.  The fight enjoined, the bating bated, the hate hated, the smarms smarmed.  I think they like it.

The moods moody.  The lights misty.  The dancing seals dancing.  Blood sport sporting.  Kill sport killing.  Derision sport deriding.  They damned well like it.

Commentary as machete for the lazy and the rich. Toys to be abused for the ones who take wings off of flies.  Hateful hates.  Vile devils.  Deemed demons.  They damned well love it.

Hope is for those who work at something.  Hate is the all purpose passport.  Define thine self.  Color tawdry and putrid thine enemy devil.  Tactics. Tactics.  Tactics.  Tougher.  Stronger.  Simpler.  More vivid.  More emasculating.  More basically simple.

Ahh..the devils are coming.  The devils are coming.  Speak loudly and club the bastards to death.  The devils make us play dirty.  They implore us to the noble tricks of the trade.  Kill the bastards.  Blood sport.  Blood lust.  Blood.  Taste the taste.

Some are better at it than others.  The real politics.

By Craig Silverman    Columbia Journalism Review

By MIchael Tomaski    The Daily Beast

politics, news, commentary, analysis


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