Creative Control

Miscellaneous Mental Musings of an Emerging Artist

Like a tornado hit this place.


You’re babysitting for a wealthy guy with three kids. When you arrive, you find the house is in shambles and that the walls are covered in crude crayon drawings.

“I don’t get it,” the man says. “I was trying this parenting technique I read about, where I tell my kids how excellent they are at all times and then give them everything they want.”

“Um…” you begin. The kids have just knocked an aquarium to the floor. The water spreads across the marble tiles; the saltwater fish flop around and gasp for breath.

“Anyway. I gave each of them a Hershey bar for dinner.” He presses a button on the wall intercom and asks his valet to come in. The valet is there within moments. “Do the thing, will you?” the man says to his valet. The valet walks into the center of the room and yells over the screaming hellions: “Your father would like you all in bed within the next hour! Is that clear?”

The man then turns to you and says “There. They shouldn’t give you a problem. Have a good time!” And he walks out the door with his valet behind him.

That’s what Donald Trump’s “disavowal” of his supportive American Nazis looks like.

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This entry was posted on November 23, 2016 by in Fiction, Politics, Society.
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