An Open Letter to Bernie Sanders

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(October 2016) There is something decomposing in the neofascist state. Donald Trump will become the next President of the United States. Hillary Clinton just picked a man nobody knows for VP. Everybody  knows you Bernie, millions would run to the polls ecstatic for you, and you caved in to fear of your own newly acquired power in supporting a Clinton Dynasty during what you called an ongoing political revolution. A tiny fraction of the millions who registered Democrat will go to the polls for Clinton. Clearly, you must see this. I have little doubt that some professional outside force influenced you to endorse more of the same. The majority of your supporters wanted a King Sanders to finish the New Deal. Yes, that was dumb. Many progressives have no idea who their congressperson is. Could be a gun-lovin’, serial Christ sniffing, right-wing, pretend religious, Confederate fear-monger who loves to flag sex with a federal government that legislates cultural laws and military spending. You know this. There is precedent. Ron Paul couldn’t get Congress to change. He wanted liberty, yet instead got a bunch of tea-partying chanting bigots on parade. By abdication, you have turncoated to send a giant wave of confusion down the ranks—confusion to turn into anger and then nationwide apathy. Everything is just more cuckoo after you Bernie Sanders. You think that you can keep moral high ground with the knowledge that both Republican and Democratic nominees will kill a whole lot of tan and brown people when picked for the monster prize. Trump will egg it on in the cities at home (das Vaterland Fürher), and Clinton will give Boeing a cluster bomb boost with more Middle Eastern children’s body parts to practice with (business as usual). Both are disgusting human beings. And you claim to support one of them. What, in the name of our future, does that make you? Politics as usual. Several thousands, maybe a million, will struggle to hold tight to morality through a three month stream of media brainwashing, and cast their vote for a Gary Johnson, Jill Stein, or even neighbor Fred or Freida next door, who never in their lifetimes had anyone killed, roughed up, imprisoned, harassed, nor even purposefully embarrassed. It will be enough boost for the electoral college to choose Trump. And it is because of you—the only candidate to have a positive rating in this entire election process of insanity.

You took the fear plan, Bernie, hook, line, and Lake Champlain sinker. You fell for it so twentieth century! Jeff Bezos and the CIA won. “No Donald Trump ever!” Well, here’s a little truth. At least, as far as the law knows—Trump has never killed anyone. Clinton has voted and promoted the death of about a million human beings. Is this the game we play now to pick our Kings and Queens? Who is qualified to kill more people, to drone more babies, to threaten the use of more nuclear weapons?

“No solution is off the table. We shall use any means necessary to end the world. Thank you. Good night. Now which Secret Service gun knob can I oil?”

How presidential. Thank you for protection Mr. dumb billionaire (Trump), Ms. grandchild hater (Clinton), Mr. pretend Jewish man (Sanders).

Donald is an unloved dandy. Hillary is avarice incarnate. Bernie, you think you’re a rabble-rouser from 1968. All the young people are going to change the world and not morph into vile careerists at the first new car smell opportunity.

After igniting a passion for cultural rebirth and national sanity, you went inside yourself like a tired and frightened old man.

Here Bernie, I want these things, to name a few, from a federal government that collects taxes:

Passenger trains, exceptional care for the elderly, a national health care system, General Mills burned to the ground, Keebler imprisoned, Boeing jettisoned to the moon; I want Netflix to have a flaming stick inserted colonly, schools that teach the joy of living, and streets to be named after artists and writers.

I do not want these things, to name a few, from a federal government:

100 interns per congressperson, any energy source that will blacken my kid’s lung, or potentially have her cat bear a litter of six-legged kittens. I do not want a military larger than Canada’s, an oil pipeline through Sioux territory, nor another Rupert Murdoch crotch rot Budweiser commercial.

Every federal vote I make from now on will depend on a candidate of a very similar kindred spirit. It is not up to the powerless to change the world. That is a heavy burden to bear for people who by the very reason of not being powerful, are not strong enough to restructure a nation.

But you are, or were anyway. And then you stopped.

Oh well.

Write-ins from now on.

Or, I’ll just run for Congress myself.