Release the Kraken!

The origin of the word “kraken” can be traced to “crook” in one Scandinavian language, so the word fits. Also, check this source for accuracy. https://en.wiktionary.org/wiki/Kraken RFK is paid to elevate a crook. I don’t get paid to elevate donuts to my mouth, but my friends do.

Donald Trump lost the popular vote twice. He was impeached twice. He raped someone. I used to think being a good person was not so special. Now I realize greed and revenge destroy a vital pathway.

Spoiler alert: This is theater. Your President is decided by the Electoral College. Check out open secrets.org to learn about the Special Interest groups paying the lawyers this bloody political season, greasing the palms.

If the Republicans blow out the budget and the Democrats punish working people for it, raise the Kraken. The Republicans and the Democrats use a system that aggrandizes itself. The system eats itself.

Political groups pour tons of money into smaller and smaller groups and districts. It saves money. A battleground state has districts. Calling them “battleground states” in the face of the Israeli/Gaza issue, in rising chaos in Western Africa, in Ukraine, in Russia. It’s cheap and evil to couch ambition in the terms of extreme prejudice against compassion and reason. Raise the Tobbaken. Raise the Harkonnen. Especially the big ones. Defeat gravity, the weight of consequence, and explore new worlds of graft and injustice. Boldly bribe where no clergy has gone before. Consider the equivocation of justice itself, of liberty itself. Consider voting against your best interests to protect the status quo, buy yourself some time. Grow a pair later. Raise the Kraken. Give your waste another chapter. The earth that feeds your cheeseburger supply chain is a necropolis for the near rich. Cross the Duat of Hubris, the Beltway of Stolen Dreams.

I can feel it, this crawling sickness of dread and mortal agony. Make my booty rowdy. Boring. My response is to become indeterminable when it comes to retributive acts that are not consistent with my character, to rob bias of any logic. I penciled in Kraken, and it never showed up. They said it was on its way up, talking that trash. Scotty beams, baby!

I want a darkgrim Kraken: a retrospective, its college days with Mothra aka M’other, a stint in the hospital where it falls in love with the drain in the floor of the OR, a shot of it awkwardly ordering donuts for a photo op for a local election but no one wanted to be in the picture with it.

A childhood dream image.

Sorry if all of this seems dark. My life seems dark, but satire requires a healthy measure of despair. That way, it’s funny. The agony of awareness is agape is sartori, is eureka, is raw and overwhelming.

I hope it’s nothing serious.

Elysian or Elysium

Raise the Kraken anyways. The price of liberty is an occasional beatdown on Krakens. Kniw their weakness. Train. Report on progress.

You have to go through it to find the bear. You must put the phantoms of your life to bed before yourself may rest. Lowering the Kraken is boring. Imagine humans occupying this world in a boring way for a million years. And then you become pure energy. That some freeze tag booty. I feel like nights at the theater give one a glimpse of it.

My first lucid dream as a child was of me being killed in a tank mired in a flooded trench in WWI. Those dreams are coming true for all the wrong reasons in Ukraine. Those people are not pawns – to me. We are all indebted to the lenders. War borrows against our future. Politics intends to provide object permanence to spirits moving on. Haunted by our failures. Darkness rises.
Also, JD Vance is ready to be the normal candidate the Midwestern racists need – can’t forget about the Senate. It enables racism just like the push for MTV ratings in the 1980s. Eventually music was cancelled and you have shows about people fighting and arguing and being idiots. Donald Trump couldn’t get enough of it.
He still can’t. He hired another nepo baby ready to Silicon his way to the BROmised land.

<I am in a tank in trench warfare and the earth is liquifying around me because of the shock waves from heavy artillery. I die in an explosion, materialize in a purgatorial airport terminal late for a flight I never reach. > The dream affects me deeply that shapes me on a daily basis. Normalizing mutual nuclear pre-emptive strikes is madness. I accept so many illusions of safety, that there is someone in the wheelhouse. But…I realize that one single leader for such a complex life form as a human being is probably a bad idea. People are unreliable, so it becomes necessary to consider contingencies for survival. It doesn’t get a lot of press, but sustainable energy is picking up. https://www.eia.gov/totalenergy/data/browser/#/?f=A&start=1949&end=2023&charted=4-6-7-14 We just recently eclipsed nuclear with green energy consumption.

I want my politics to reflect the dreams of everyday people, the working consumers who fuel this weird process.