NO LONGER “THE PEOPLE’S HOUSE”
A Lunatic Barricaded Himself in a Basement Bunker Inside of “The People’s House” as He Ranted Threats and Cowered in the Dark!
And then a fence was built around the White House…
I want you to look at something.
This is a photo of the White House, once called “the People’s House”, as it was from 1800 (when its construction was completed) to 2016 (when its destruction began).
It stood as a monument of what people could aspire to. A symbol of hope and freedom.
Abraham Lincoln abolished slavery within that building.
John F. Kennedy spoke of equality in front of it.
He spoke of how if we could imagine ourselves not noticing the color of each other’s skin, we might finally be ready to ascend humankind through the stars.
To me, that building was always beautiful. Although we seldom lived up to it, the theory of America, the vision of ourselves that we dreamed to be, the concept of the thing itself, written on every page of our constitution, meant
that building belonged equally to every single one of us. That’s what made it beautiful.
In its own way, it was breathtaking. Majestic yet strangely inviting. Despite having columns it looked like… a home.
Let’s look at it now.
I know. It’s much like the pictures they show of people “before” and “after” crystal meth. Looking at it is spooky because it’s SUPPOSED to be spooky.
THIS is the building where Donald Trump tweeted about using “ominous weapons” upon America’s own citizens. This is the building where he tweeted he’ll release “dogs” upon them.
As he cowered in a bunker.
As the lights in the White House went dark.
Lights which shone from 1891 (when electricity was first installed) to 2020 (preceding a highly destructive, racist, sexually-assaulting, profoundly corrupt, excruciatingly stupid, un-American, madman being un-installed). Here’s what that looks like.
That’s our symbol now. The loss of hope. The destruction of any notions of equality. The very few richest and most powerful using “ominous weapons” to quell the un-huddled masses so that they can once again comfortably rest their boots upon all of our necks. Or, grind their knees deep into the necks of those of us who are black, in broad daylight…
until all of our lights go dark.
Written by Steven W. Rouach
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