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America speeds toward the apocalyptic fall elections with reckless abandon

Here we are, careening down the twisted highway of American politics and the landscape is so absurd that even my wildest trips in the ’60s couldn’t have conjured this up. It’s a circus, a freak show, and I’m your psychedelic ringmaster, Thomas S. Hunterson, here to peel back the neon veneer and show you the noxious rot beneath.

First off, the Grand Old Party, the GOP, once the party of old-school conservatives, has now morphed into the Cult of Trump, ruled by the former president who still haunts the befuddled party like a ghost in a gaudy, ill-fitting suit. His loyal acolytes bow before his golden statue, worshiping at the altar of off-the-rails Twitter rants and thinly veiled fake news.

And then there’s the Democratic Party, the so-called “liberals.” They’re like a herd of confused sheep stumbling through a field of goopy cowpies and buried landmines. They’ve got their “progressive” wing, the AOCs and Bernies, who want to tax the rich into poverty, and the “moderates” who just want to keep the status quo and their tattered sanity. It’s a pointless tug-of-war between the dreamers and the pragmatists who know they must inevitably bury their hatchets to unite against the onslaught of Agent Orange.

Meanwhile, the media has become a money-motivated, celebrity-driven 24/7 reality show, with mindless talking heads spewing partisan bile faster than you can say “impeachment.” The news cycle has digressed into a never-ending circus and something they call the truth. Truth? Well, truth has taken a permanent vacation. It’s all about who can shout the loudest, generate the most outrage, spin the wildest conspiracy theories and incite the most venomous social media followers.

The corporate overlords, Blackrock, and other puppet masters keep pulling the proverbial strings, raking in obscene profits buying up limited housing, and laughing all the way to their Cayman Island-based banks while the rest of the world devolves into a giant cage match fight for dwindling financial rewards and limited shelter. They’ve convinced us that unfettered capitalism is the only way to make it, while they sip champagne in their lavish Manhattan penthouse suites. It’s a rigged game my friends, and we’re the dumb, expendable pawns.

And speaking about pawns in games of war, don’t get me started on Boeing, Raytheon, and the bloated military-industrial complex, who keep churning out death and destruction like it’s a Black Friday sale.

We’re picking up the tab for bombing ten-year-olds in countries halfway around the world, all while our antiquated bridges collapse and our pot-hole-pocked roads wash away from climate change-generated mega-rainstorms and flooding.

But fear not, there are glimmers of hope. Grassroots movements are springing up like wildflowers through the concrete cracks. People are waking up to the fact that the system is rigged, and they’re demanding change.

Welcome to the American Freak Show, where the only constant is chaos.