the fix

President Song & Dance spoke in slow motion. Even at such a slow rate the ‘ehhs’ and ‘you knows’ were everywhere. Where he at? A half hour earlier, in the Smoking Room, he had his fix. It eased the growing panic. The world disappeared. The dope surrounded him with a wall of warm feeling. It dulled the part of the brain that brought self awareness. He knew that the Kennedys used drugs and everybody loves at least two of them. He needed it like he needed his teleprompter…even more. He got high to dream his life in his books. So high he needed Ayers to shape his incoherent invention and factious autobiography. Even his name was made up and never officially changed from Barry Soetoro. Nodding out he was Barry in his dreams, selling eightballs for Uncle Frank in Hawaii as a young teen. High in the sun he learned the meaning of life from him. The Mainland was far away but he learned it’s history and politics from the Communist Poet, Pedophile and Dope Dealer. No one could touch him now. He was President and he could do the shuffle with the best of them. People knew he was there to fuck them up. Socialized Medicine was the key to the big screwing of the Bourgeoisie. He strengthened the foundation for the revolution that the generation before him envisaged. Or the real dreams of his father: put the fix on The Man. President Get Even was slow and fumbling but he had to take a few questions it’s part of the dance. But when he nodded out in the middle of a rambling answer it didn’t matter. There was snoring throughout the press room. They had nodded out too. Bored to sleep the world disappeared.
Hear the song  Afraid Of What You Know

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