Is there nothing worse than the Right’s bad breath? Will they never learn to stop
driving Cadillacs and wearing polyester?
The gloating newsman on TV laughs at the Republican politicians, clucks his tongue
and wags his finger. Oh, the pleasure accorded those who are always right.
One assumes that moral superiority casts a shadow, the bearer’s back should
break under so much weight, but no.
Moral rectitude allows the righteous to stand up straight. It’s Salem all over again, a village
ruled by Pastor McCarthy, only this time the congregation of sinners is to be drowned.
How dare the pockmarked slob, that Jew, act on his sexual impulses. It’s only days since
we saw the much-admired inventor of perpetual adolescence buried in a bunny suit.
When Hugh Hefner asked the girls to hop around his grand hutch, no one complained,
but when the scar-faced fat man begs for a rubdown, they ring their agent and call in the FBI.
The haughty left has a taste for blood. They can smell it. We’re steps away from seeing heads roll. They always begin with the most talented: Woody Allen, Polanski and Harvey Weinstein.
Together they have done more to make this world a more livable place than all their detractors combined. The ferocity of the attacks reminds one of Moscow in 1929, 1938, and 1962.
The relentless condemnations take on that ghoulish glee. Meryl Streeps to the rescue. Like rabid dogs, the pack surrounds the bear, a powerful and frightening animal when injured.
It is no surprise that the rich forget their manners. They’re used to getting their own way. Ask Jack. Ask Warren. Do we really want to castrate the producer of “Pulp Fiction”?
Yes, Weinstein’s victims need someone to support them. A fat man in an open robe must be hard
to face, let alone refuse. The women are not to be faulted; they are to be applauded. Bravo.
But: “How dare he ask me into his bath.” For this, the founder of Miramax pictures deserves a
2×4 across the back of the head, Soviet-style? This genius needs to be taken to a cell?
The answer is yes. His bullying was epic. His behavior was uncivil; it was destructive. His drives and his talents worked in tandem, to create and to destroy. He was a thug with a carnation.
The comics are gleeful. Who better to humiliate the likes of Mayakovski and Solzhenitsyn than frustrated supporters of Hillary? They’ve failed to take down our clownish President.
There is only so much talent to go around. God holds back. By the time Stalin was finished
there was no one left. Why are the blood-thirsty never sated?
This is indicative of the genius that is David Lohrey. He always has one foot in the past and one foot in the present. It is a recurrent theme in many of his works; he looks at the present through the prism of his own memory. His work is rife with dark comedy and poignant social commentary. Lohrey is a writer’s writer. His time has come. This poem is brilliant.