In the United Spacetimes of America the White House is adorned with bloated, diseased corpses of the poor, punctured on spiked benches, loudspeakers singing baby shark off key on endless repeat. Children under 13 must be accompanied by parents on the tour.
Watch out for the West Wing. Through the silken halls, camouflaged among the antique treasures plundered across Spacetimes, in all colors of our rainbow and many more, the barbarians are said to roam. An experiment gone awry, a cult, an emergent collective of the spurned and forgotten, nobody knows for sure.
I imagine it sort of like to America what Marvel's Otherworld/Avalon is to Celtic mythology and the British Empire, or like WH40K's Imperium except steeped in Mythic Americana.
We had a more involved conversation about it on the server, some alternative ideas about Chaos in particular, with maybe the fascistic faction just being one of many, but this was the original writeup.
ReplyDeleteLove it!
DeleteI have had a bad cold today and am realizing this comment was to a post I haven't posted yet, one more so specifically about WH40K, but I posted this instead. Although we did also talk about this post on the server at some point as well.
DeleteOne patron tears up, visibly touched by the fading strains of the music as it echoes from the ramparts. "It is so beautiful!" he sobs. He bows his head and touches a circular brooch pinned to his breast, overcome. The pin has a blue background emblazoned with the red rays of the Sonnenrad and a single white star in the center. It is available for $19.99 in the gift shop. Others follow his example, touching their own pins, and stand in solemn appreciation, a patriotic moment of silence broken in the next moment as the drums, bass and detuned childlike voice begin their endless refrain yet again.
ReplyDeleteTour guides shepherd eager necrophiles into a queue as they approach the pallid dead flesh of those piked on the benches, touching themselves and drooling. One stands at the head of the line, ensuring that those who wish to engage in congress with the deceased proletariat are properly credentialed oligarchs. "See, Junior," one of them chides her offspring, "This is what will happen to you if you ever stop consuming."
This and Her Christmas Knight's statement are both great extrapolations, I'm glad this has been so evocative for people.
Delete"loudspeakers singing baby shark off key on endless repeat"
ReplyDeleteMagnificent horror.
Thanks! Unfortunately I can't take full credit for it, that one came from real life! I think it was actually in Australia though, not the US. But still, the joys of the modern world!
DeleteThe Off-Key part was my addition on the idea.
DeleteHey, a lot of people already see it this way so you've got a built-in audience. American politics is like a negative undercurrent of spacetime; it gradually seeps into so much, and is so intellectually frigid and so pretends to all-pervasion, that it drags people back to it away from the creation of things that could be sui generis or timeless. It's like the notion that all art is political: "I consume all, I assimilate all, I will never allow you to transcend me"
ReplyDelete:eyes:
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