Everybody can smell blood now. Everybody is rushing to get a piece of the Falling Cow, as we say in Syria. Good old, very old, Syria – our long Infested Womb.
Is it any wonder then that the Cleric and the Charlatan should be forming a pact? But then, politics make strange fuck-fellows and all that.
So be it. I would have been surprised had things turned out any different. The scenario in my head needs not be revised. Things are going as planned by some collective universal madness that we like to misrepresent, if not disparage, by calling it fate. Continue reading “The Scheming!”