Message to a Carbuncle

by anderson

You are not useless Andrew. You are, at one and the same time, better
than, exactly equal to, and worse than useless. Many may wonder what
genuinely useful societal function you perform, Andrew. None is overtly
or remotely apparent, save one.

A carbuncle is useful only insofar as it indicates infection. Once you know that, the pain is just fucking annoying.

And
that is you, Andrew Breibart. You are merely the swollen angry abscess
telling society that something is wrong in the American body politic.
You are symptomatic of a cynical and hidebound political infection. So,
for that you are somewhat useful. But, not really.

We already
knew that the country had a deeply-seated racial, politically cynical
infection. Big time. Which means that you, Andrew Breitbart, are pretty
much useless.

Except, you're not. You're worse than useless.
You hurt. In a quite specific place. Curing that underlying infection,
which gives rise to painful carbuncles such as yourself, is not on
everyone's political agenda. And there you are, throbbing away as the
underlying infection senses election season.

Rightly, it is your
angry bloated self and your worse than useless, divisive poisonous ilk
who foist your, and their, schismatic, race baiting lies upon society,
whom society ought to have cast to the dour tent cities of Los Angeles,
and Chicago, and St. Louis, or to have doomed to wander shattered,
aimless, homeless roads, while unfortunate yahoo mishap abandons you to
an anonymous, rat infested, shit strewn ditch, bleeding, fading, ...
where until, finally, a blessed Mother Nature and her precious earth
judiciously rend asunder your corrupted agglomeration of molecules and
employ them in genuinely useful enterprise.

But no. As we know,
and in direct abeyance of the corporeal efficiencies of sweet Mother
Nature, this just society has been held back by a connivance, a
connivance of power and money. It is that openly growing societal
infection by which worse than useless sores like you, Andrew, are not
hence rendered into more useful enterprise.

Too often, good
people wind up in grim and dire societal straits, people who believed
that honest work and doing right was the way to make it. The "system,"
as they call it. Saps, as you surely see them. These are some of the
folks living in cars, and tents, while an infected political calculus
churns out racist bile, and raises to high red anger and mild celebrity,
you, Andrew Breibart. There you are. Looking fat and angry and sassy.
Doing quite well, it would seem. You're on television, and people are
talking about you. Well taken care of. No just tent in sight.