Right when you think this country can’t get any more polarized, you turn on the news to find these angry leftist millennials making it that much harder for the rest of us to have a civil discussion with our political opponents in the Necro-Party. I rarely agree with the Death Cultists, and I sure as hell don’t agree with those obnoxious Proud Boils on the party’s periphery — you know, the Husk-Humans who keep conjuring anus portals to Hell outside the few remaining, sane dissidents’ homes and hidden bunkers — but that’s no excuse to confront them while they’re trying to drink their Pumpkin Spice Lattes in Starbucks.
Everyone needs to step back and take a deep breath, so long as they’re careful not to inhale any of the Nether-Sphincters’ fumes. Those of us remaining afterward need to approach this with fresh eyes and ears. And no, I’m not being an “ableist,” Shannon. Anyone who tithed various appendages to Dread Lord Nyarlathotep still has a seat at the table, assuming they’re okay with seeing with a few of those appendages actually comprising said table. Stop using trendy buzzwords.
Regardless, this violence needs to stop, be it vandalizing a town square’s Obelisk of Woe — they’re important historical memorials, if you ask me — or radicals within the Death Cult culling people outside the designated Harvest Seasons.
Really, the nerve of some of these spoiled, radical leftist whiners. Just when I think I can’t be shocked by anything else, they go and do something so recklessly offensive. Pumpkin Spice Lattes, Shannon? Have they no sense of shame? Thank the Anti-God that It loves them as much as we do, or we’d be living in some truly dark days. Depriving anyone of that delicious, affordable, seasonal treat is about the rudest thing I can think of. What I’m trying to say here is Pumpkin Spice Lattes bring us together, every man, woman, and child still not swallowed by a Hell Anus, and getting in the way of that is making American discourse impossible.
I can tell you another thing for sure — no way are Nyarthaloteps’ various deformed minions, gore-ghouls, and blood orgy priests going to take us seriously if we keep stooping to their level. I know it’s a lopsided comparison between Horror Holes and aggressive protests tactics which still refrain from bodily harm, but the Grand Ol’ Outer God Party controls each rotting branch of government now. They call the shots. That’s how our once-hallowed institutions worked. If they decide to extend the Age of Putrescence another ten thousand years, well, there’s simply not much we can do about it. Them’s the breaks, as they say, and where would we be if we threw out the rulebooks like they did on Inauguration Night.
Maybe if these infantile dissidents wanted to keep their sanity so badly, they should have mobilized the vote with an actual attractive candidate back during the election. Personally, I still think we should have gone with Pazuzu. Hedging our bets with a Judeo-Christian daemon candidate would’ve appealed to some of the sadistic hordes still on the fence who still weren’t sure whether this country should move forward with Known or Unknown Horrors. Instead, they wanna throw a temper tantrum in public by sullying a warm and tasty fall drink. They should wait until the next election cycle, whenever that might be, and try try again.
Honestly, Shannon, I simply don’t know where most of this country has gone to — and I don’t only mean literally. Who knew Hell-Sphincters could be conjured that large? Don’t look so glum, by the way. Just keep calling your local Blood Priest to civilly voice your concerns. I’m sure your husband will be spat out the Hell-Sphincter soon and, fingers crossed, mostly intact.