Land of the Free, Chapter One
Back in 2021, when the clouds were still white and the sky was still blue, I had sold my home and taken to the road. The life of a vagabond was much more appealing than dodging explosions and bullets in the streets of the city. Pipe bombs and C4 had replaced skateboards and iPods. All this senseless violence was a response to the death delivered by the policemen. Open war was waged in the streets, a civil war without a clear distinction or uniforms, no North and South, no Union and Confederacy. There were the Believers and the Free and you didn't know who was which until they died for their cause.
Constantly at war, our leaders went out conquering and to conquer. First, the Middle East so long ago. We turned our attention to the African nations that had been tossing around their leadership like a game of hot potato. Now, we're ignoring the war within our own borders and bombing the shit out of that Asian country - I'll be damned if I know the name. War was our goal and our objective. It's only inevitable that we fuck ourselves over. This nation was born of blood, and so would it die.
Once this civil war was too big for Washington to ignore, no one wanted to be president. Half the population forced him into things he didn't want to do and the other half blamed him enough to attempt assassinations twice a week. Now, presidents don't leave a secret bunker they set up somewhere. (Couldn't recognize Hainsley in a line-up if you paid me.) The president has all but given up and handed everything over to Congress. Washington's a cesspool of one-sided, closed-minded bigots with big, throbbing boners for war. Where is our hero, to call us into revolution, our savior, to call our names and welcome us to Paradise?
So, I left.
(C) 2008 John J. Shilpetski IV