the chron. mother's day night.

this is the preterite age of propaganda. this is the age of bogus artifice, of abysmal empire, the age of the people of the lie and the capricious rule of law. the end of the inchoate human adventure expressed in the hideous construction of another hopelessly dominant narrative. it's the end of a scam we failed and fail to understand.

this is the chron of obama, lord of the captive park, puppeteer of captured bodies and deluded minds. this is a redoubt in a late phase of the endless war called the capitalocene. this is his fiefdom in a stolen public park.

this is (we live and hope) the penultimate verse of the same old sad song.