It’s a struggle lately. Trying to find the energy to get this lil munki moving again is hard. What does the munki want to say? What can it achieve? Can this munki seriously consider a run in politics? Where will the numbers come from? Who will campaign for the me?
We live in interesting times: that hoary ol chestnut. The right-wing is taking over. The “I’m not racist buts” are questioning their self-censorship. People can say things now that would once upon a time have forced them to resign a position. The whole world’s in a state of… ah fuck, I’m not gonna say that.
People are worried about immigrants. No one cares anymore that the 2008 economic collapse was caused by the banking industry. People go “aaargh, foreigners!” and then sip from fucking cappuccinos. Racist tendencies slither around the corners of people’s minds, but let that not stop them from gorging on a month of football, where diversity slaps you in the bollocks between every whistle. Irlanda fans are becoming so sound that they’re fucking annoying.
The key issues today are that one country next to us is going to vote on a referendum to leave a continental agreement, for, no fucking apparent reason. The country on the other side has declared hate speech legal and seem keen to elect a real gotham-style villain as their leader, to y’know see what’ll happen. People bitch about the media not attacking Trump more. Every newspaper editor and programme director in the world, not just in America, is trying desperately to wipe the stains off their pants whenever that little realisation kicks in that they will have a constant supply of splashes or lead items for four to eight years, if the planet lasts that long.
It won’t be funny, it won’t be meaningful. As this planet melts and explodes at the hands of stupid men, news anchors will announce the end of days with faux-poignancy and as the flash happens, this munki will be throwing his bottle of rum at the television exclaiming that “they can’t even do the end of the fucking world right.”