The Post-Partisan Emporium

Bad Hombre Calamari Surrounded by the walking dead with ticking clocks. Good Citizen They lined up by the billions when told and asked for the mRNA menu. As they chose their poison the images flashed in their minds. The ones of spastic dancing nurses in empty hospitals flanked by goofy graveyard interns flaring their hands and gyrating their hips on their “break” while scoring four times their normal salary. Paid to dance for Chinese facial recognition AI software apps while eliminating patients they could have treated instead. The sounds of hissing ventilators rising and compressing with the familiar ominous melody of nightly news terror broadcasts spoke to them. The aerial shots of Cuomo’s murdered pensioners being buried erratically in New York parks in pine boxes sent shivers up their spines. The late-night dancing celebrities whoring themselves for a genocidal machine convinced them to sacrifice their body to experimental science fiction. They didn’t question the absurdity of any