We discovered this piece scrawled on some foolscap left on our doorstep, an all-lower-case Kerouac-style stream of consciousness rap, and offer it as we found it.
by H. Millard
trump is an american original and a throwback to the days when americans were bursting with confidence and energy and the sheer joy of freedom and life itself and roark and just doing it and coming in with no apologies goddamn and one flew over the cuckoo’s nest of the gonadless churchy voices of the wimpy romneys and ryans and the other sissies and the incompetence of the bushes and the demand by a testosterone challenged society where words are banned and no one dares to grab some pussy and grabbing pussy is just a way of subconsciously burbling that one is grabbing life the life force itself and the boundless energy and the way it was in dumping tea in boston harbor and telling the king to go stuff it and randian energy and building and doing and living fully and not mumbling words and acting like your underwear is too tight and your shoes pinch your toes and prune face looking at the world and being afraid to dance and sing and let your life force hang out he ain’t no mewling little sissy boy but the sissy boys are in charge and they are the collective nurse ratchet and they demand that one also be a sissy boy and they foolishly call that a virtue when it is not he is full of spring not winter he is the sheer joy of the young bursting forth and not contained in little boxes by aging school marms who break the human spirit he is a great spirit full of the life force in a day when the establishment is a straight jacket and where minds are trapped in barbed wire made of words and over sensitivity where one can’t say anything that might offend anyone and this is stultifying and shows that the nation is becoming decrepit and is like being in an old age home instead of the youth that made this a great nation where is the freedom where is the boundless spirit where is the sheer love of life that we once had and we now look over our shoulders as the pencil pushers tsk tsk tsk everything that we do for they are the eternal tsk tskers and they are tea cups and doilies not chopping down trees and not speaking loudly and they talk in little church voices like mormon romney and they demand others also do this he is a rushing river and they’re fetid polluted little smelly ponds full of muck and death and they demand that all others be fetid ponds full of disease and death and not be raging streams he is a charging bronco not a timid and spirit broken horse for kiddies he is the america that we celebrate on the fourth of july and they are not they go to parades and they are half dead and they pretend they are still fully alive but look at them look how they live look how they talk they are docile animals trained to be quiet and not be creative or expressive they are not risk takers they are not doers they are lifeless husks with no life force rising in them they have been beaten down and now they are like whipped dogs and the establishment is their master they are not full of the life force anymore they are timid and afraid of life and afraid to say they want to grab some of that pussy and remember that is like saying you want to grab life it is the way a man full of life might express the thought that i am alive and i love my life and i want to grab the day and it is in words that a man might use rather than the sissy talk of the phony offended ones whose pretend outrage is stupid they are untermenschen be the ubermensch and live loud and proud and be who and what you were born to be and leave behind the afraid of life haters who hate life itself and want nothing more than to not be so be alive and grab some pussy