Kalashnikov’s Umbrella

I have been summoned by the President-elect, Mr. Crusher. He wishes to speak to me of peace. Not only of peace, but of war. And not only of peace and of war, but of the Middle East. You see, Mr. Crusher believes that he can bring peace to the Middle East.

A Bigly Christmas

Gather around, children, gather around. That’s right, at my feet, like good patriotic Americans. Kids, don’t sit on the Louis XIV chairs, made of the best 24k gold, okay? Sit here on the marble floor, which my servants will have an easier time sanitizing after you’re gone, which hopefully will be soon.

The Party

– “Look at her,” shouts the Orange Menace. “Look at the loser! So SAD!”
They look. They attack. Now that the party has been given a common theme, a shared purpose, they co-ordinate, like a master switch turning everything on simultaneously. They focus their hate on the young lady and set to the work of tearing her down.

Kalashnikov is On the Case

I was hired to investigate the election. There, I have said it. It is out in the open now. There are suspicions that the Russians have hacked the computers that tally the votes. Whose suspicions? I have no idea, they are suspicions. Anyone may have them. Russians, for example.

Introducing Mr. Leed

Geld Times journalist Barry Leed is an unacknowledged hero. Although he failed to anticipate the triumphal rise of the orange menace, he retrospectively writes of its inevitability. There’s nothing about this shocking election victory that Mr. Leed cannot explain. “It’s obvious… Read More ›


The monstrous sun rises over the tableau, another da capo round of the daily quotidian’s diurnal recurrence. Hilari pauses her work of harvesting to savour a morsel of the dawn. Amor fati, she grumbles, of the eternal recurrence. She returns… Read More ›