I had a kind of insight, recently, thinking about the Democratic primaries that are now playing out. Contrary to most of the pundits I’ve seen writing about it, I believe that Bernie Sanders has a very good chance of winning both the nomination and beating our current Space Emperor. Why? For the same reason The Oleaginous One himself was able to win in 2016.
People voted for Orange Julius Caesar not because of any of his policy proposals (which were both largely incoherent and have since been mostly ignored), but because it was a “poke in the eye” at the status quo. And in fact I think there are just as many people – if not more – on the left who think this same way, as compared to those on the right. They’re just fed up with the status quo and would like nothing more than to give the powers-that-be a good kick in the pants. Bernie can win because he’s a kind of “Drumpf of the left.” This is not true of any of the other Democrats running – not Bloombie, not Buttigieg, not even Warren.
You see, Sanders is basically a grumpy old socialist. He’s wholly authentic, and if his election wouldn’t be a good poke in the eye at the status quo, from the left… well, then nobody’s election would be.
What I’m listening to right now.
King Crimson, “The Court of the Crimson King.”
Lyrics
The rusted chains of prison moons
Are shattered by the sun
I walk a road horizons change
The tournament’s begun
The purple piper plays his tune
The choir softly sing
Three lullabies in an ancient tongue
For the court of the crimson king
The keeper of the city keys
Puts shutters on the dreams
I wait outside the pilgrim’s door
With insufficient schemes
The black queen chants the funeral march
The cracked brass bells will ring
To summon back the fire witch
To the court of the crimson king
The gardener plants an evergreen
Whilst trampling on a flower
I chase the wind of a prism ship
To taste the sweet and sour
The pattern juggler lifts his hand
The orchestra begin
As slowly turns the grinding wheel
In the court of the crimson king
On soft grey mornings widows cry
The wise men share a joke
I run to grasp divining signs
To satisfy the hoax
The yellow jester does not play
But gently pulls the strings
And smiles as the puppets dance
In the court of the crimson king
