December 7th, 2010

incipience

woke up, fell out of bed, wrote the Prez what was in my head

Mister President,

Are you being blackmailed? I don't want to come to grips with you as a sleeker, more rhetorically adept shill for the rich than the last guy, just playing the other side in a phony debate, and throwing occasional bones to the people to illustrate your role.

But the whole reasonable-guy compromising-like-you-knew-he-would construct doesn't work on this tax thing. It's too much. I can't make it fit.

Maybe, instead of blackmail, you know something the people don't, or can't, without revolution erupting?

Look at the wild theories I'm driven to, trying to keep you in my mind as a friend to (increasingly underclassed) working Americans.

Sometimes I do think I see something like that in your eyes.

-- fflo

(I didn't sign the actual thing "fflo".)