Knave New World

It's the slow news coming, coming 'round the Net. How do we know who to believe, what to believe? Where's Cronkite when you need him? Where's Huntley/Brinkley when the nation's on the brink of a president being haunted by the ghost of Epstein, while social media presents players unlimited by journalistic integrity and mainstreaming media whistles dixie while yankee newspapers are smeared with obsolete paper and ink? Are we on the brink of a nation being driven to drink? How can a commander in chief of insurrectionists be still occupying the oval hovel as east wing heritage goes the way of the buffalo? 1984 done came and went and 2024 brought a rerun event, when the chief insurrectionist pulled out his trump card and took the hand, the hand of Uncle Sam, whose stars and stripes now disappear in the fog of confusion blown out when contusions slice and dice the news and magamaniac ICE pursues and abuses po' folk who have po' ways because they're not to allowed to stay in the land of the free and the home of the brave? Yes, Virginia, we've fallen far, descended from brave to slave. History reverses itself as wise men rave and strong men misbehave. it's a knave new world, I'm tellin' ya. Believe me when I say, what the Founders have given, the maga-men have taken away. And I told him that! We're not in Kansas any more. Where's Bob Dole when you need him? Where's Mitt? The party of Lincoln is stinkin' with the rot of rebel secession; it's an entropy digression, worse than the Great depression.  It's the insurrection raised from the dead,

a zombie elephant, blowing news that irrelevant. I know this is a rant; I've tried to reconcile, but I just can't! Goodbye cruel nation. ""Maybe, if I just change the station?" Once upon nation, bleak and bleary, while I pondered weak and weary, o'er some sad, forgotten Constitution from bygone days of yore. But quoth the raven: "Nevermore." Smoke