Doom Destined to Win

There's no good outcome, so relax.

It’s going to suck.  There’s one certainty from an election where wisdom will lose.  The quality of each lamentable offering makes it almost not worth voting, although you still should for the self-righteous sticker silently boasting alleged civic pride and the chance to write in your favorite Voltron pilot.

You get your pick of the New York City populist or the Bay Area pinko.  Knowing who’s going to spend what was yours will not offer needed relief.  Unwieldy-government goons are as obnoxious as expected.  Frittered funds are either pilfered directly or borrowed.  The latter only seems like a clever trick.

Promising to not halt the mandatory pittance program summarizes the scenario’s emptiness.  Both pretend that either side has any desire to stop buying votes with Social Security payments.  Legal laundering that’s foreordained to bankrupt us will continue, so don’t worry.  There’s no option for those who, say, would rather keep their money and stick it in a mutual fund instead of being forced to put it in a federal lockbox with no lock or bottom.

Each has been president, sort of.  Experience isn’t helpful for the inept.  Kamala would change to holding the title officially after horrifyingly being the highest-ranked official behind Grampy Mushbrain.  She’s done some of the tasks.  To be fair, she’s not good at any of them.  Meanwhile, Trump was determined to remain an outsider and governed like it.

A figurative argument about something that’s already happened sums up our times in a way debaters don’t grasp.  The whole reason to promote from within is to maintain success, which is another reason why Democrats hate the private sector.  Kamala assures us she’ll change everything while maintaining everything.  Change paired with continuity is no more preposterous than getting rich by printing more money.

Every era features humans at their stupidest.  But the current wretched days are truly the worst because we’re allegedly so advanced.  Use the glowing pocket rectangle everyone has at hand that can access every fact ever to reinforce a baseless conspiracy.

Suckers worry about advertising because they believe any preposterous claim made by a paid agency will be accepted as truth.  This is an election that proves a frightening number of millions believe what their beloved politicians say.  Being ruled by memes has made us as sharp as expected.

The uselessness of predictions won’t stop an endless flood of them, as everyone enjoys smugly announcing about the one they got right.  Forget the countless errors about proclaiming what’s next, as newsworthiness is based in exceptions.  A lucky guess on what’s nearly a coin flip is especially unnecessary when most bills are worthless.  Neither miserable faction of aspiring gloaters can appreciate that humans need to focus on what should happen rather than what will.

The sole guarantee is that the minions of whichever of these appalling people will boss us around through early 2029 will use the win itself as evidence of success.  That’s another reason why politics doesn’t resemble anything useful.

We’re screwed either way.  Isn’t that comforting?  Accepting fate is crucial to dealing with how stupidly awful this prison planet is.  The sole advantage of a hideous choice is learning what can’t be changed.  Of course, inevitability doesn’t excuse the decisions that brought us to the apocalypse’s edge.  Why does fate always bedevil idiots who make regrettable decisions?

Time isn’t the only thing ticking ahead.  The present debt crisis is about to cross over into catastrophe status.  I’d feel bad for who’s going to be in charge if they both weren’t into furiously spending what’s not theirs.  We won’t have to do anything to default, which only sounds appealing to the lazy.  Math paired with reality will make foolishness pay.

Four more years sounds like a threat.  It will be at least that long before an adult can attempt to clean up the mess made by eternal toddlers.  The entirely dire prospect is not a matter of age.  The relatively youthful 60-year-old and the real estate goon from the ‘80s are both petulant children.  Look at where they think money comes from for proof.

A race for phonies even by political standards is based in each claiming the other is awful.  I guess they’re each right.  Pretending one is capable of preserving the nation by defeating the ogre doesn’t work out.  Each claims the foe is out to destroy the nation, and who are you to argue?  Both cases are semi-true, although those making them merely despise the other side solely because it’s the other side.

Each unpalatable potential violator of constitutional limits lusts after abusing power in a preferred way.  A future executive is not going to do anything remarkable like announcing plans to fix existence.  Who would give such valuable information away?  You only need to know that whoever triumphs will either install joy or make America great again.  Some slogans represent candidacies inadvertently.

Sensible humans coping with the overwhelming sense of dread know that the consequences of naughtiness are imminent.  Waiting for election results feels like like Christmas Eve during the year when you dropped napalm on the hobo encampment.  Santa’s going to use your coal to commit arson with your tree.

Voting inspires broader thinking, like wondering what we did that was so naughty to deserve an election this devastating.  This latest dreadful faceoff should spur motivation to finally stop doing it.  In this case, there’s nobody else to blame but each other.  Pointing fingers offers catharsis.  Much of it is unearned.  Only some of us deserve collective guilt, which is the sole upside for those not seeking comfort in a polling place booth.