I know Halloween has passed, but the Ghastly Ossuary of a Party still stalks the living world, seeking whom they may devour.
One by one since 2016, its members have bent the knee and bared their throats, and the Vampire of Mar-a-Lago has drained their moral life-blood until they became a horde of mindless walking dread.
Now, from their legislative anti-life fangs drips the blood of women in Texas and who knows where else who were denied medical care because of the fear the party’s policies have engendered, women whose lives have been sacrificed on the altar of their heartlessness.
Now, if your skin is not the pallid whiteness of the undead, beware. They might come for you, growling with racial anger, hungry for an ethnic cleansing, beating on your doors, mindless of your humanity, shackles in their hands, bright lust for some dark national purity in their eyes, the smell of tiki torches on their clothes, a black unmarked van on the street, its ominous doors already open.
Now, if you hold up the cross and try to drive them back into their grave dirt, nine rifles will be pointed at your face.
Now, if a hurricane kills you in the hundreds and destroys your beautiful island, they will throw at you rolls of paper towels laced with their malice, negligence, and contempt, and call you garbage. Here, clean yourselves up.
Now, they invite into the castle the wolfman from Russia, muzzle dripping with Ukrainian blood, and give him the keys to our nation and the addresses of their enemies. It’s always a full wolf moon in the mind of the Vampire.
Now, from the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier one can hear the muffled screams of grief for all the fallen brothers and sisters considered losers and suckers by the blood-sucking Vampire of Mar-a-Lago.
Now that the undead rule the Gory Ordure Party, the seven deadly sins rule as well: Who has more pride, more greed, more wrath, more envy, more lust, more gluttony, and more sloth than the Vampire of Mar-a-Lago?
The upcoming election is one national trick or treat. Give the Vampire and his undead minions what they want, or it’s tricks: fires in drop boxes, and guns in women’s faces, and fangs on women’s wombs, and fingers in their vaginas, and lawyers in your doctors’ brains, and jack-boot raids, and concentration camps, and shuttered media outlets and journalists in their gulags, and attorney generals monitoring your pregnancies, and Vengeance apotheosized, and grave dirt covering the great American experiment.