Ontological Absences: Deconstructing the Aphasia of Dilatory, Coprophagic Recidivism in Post-Ellipsoidal Democracy

It is, of course, common knowledge that, as expressive aphasia manifests exponential bicameral bifurcation, this absence of absences must necessarily propagate entropy with parallel exponentiality in all post-ellipsoidal political venues and contexts. What is less obvious is the near occasion of such vacuums, their underlying support systems, or ontologically speaking, their foundational intra-organic vacuity. Fortunately, a recent study commissioned by the National Academy of Discursive Disorders and conducted in synapses-controlled hypnotic environments in an underground, and hence solipsism-neutral laboratory, has yielded unambiguously recondite data in this matter.

Hence, we can now state with absolute socio-spatial, diachronic certainty that individuals possessing severalized and compendious authoritarian proclivities respond neo-necrologically to any meta-geographical structuration of pneumatic liquidity. Indeed, the aforementioned study demonstrates sine dubito that all those of political persuasion, even individuals relatively uncontaminated by derivational fiduciary symbiosis, manifest a perspicuous nexus to and with strangulated or mutated glossolalia as well as a concomitant predisposition to coprophagia. Corroborating, albeit anecdotal and occasionally otiose evidence of this recidivistic etiology can be assayed daily in the pages of the New York Times. 








  

Lucky Americans: We'll Always Have Paris...and Canada

As the unthinkable becomes increasingly thinkable--the actual possibility of a Donald Trump or Ted Cruz presidency--I am taking stock, while nonetheless attempting to avoid panic. After all, if recent history is any indication, America's basically dysfunctional system of checks, balances and redundancy would probably prevent either of them from implementing the maddest and most inhumane of their vile schemes, in which case I might be able to just slog along, pissing and moaning, without feeling an absolute moral imperative to renounce--and leave--the US itself. 

But if a worst-case scenario were to develop, if either of these despicable creatures managed to enact the malignant (and yes, un-American) fundamentals of his platform, I suppose I would have to take steps--try to sell my house, cash in the remainder of my IRA, and attempt to live out my remaining years in Canada or France. The bell will eventually toll, of course--for me as for all--and I am already an old man. Yet, this certainty of death only heightens the irony of my grief--as I reflect that now, at the end of my life, the only place where I might be able to die with a measure of self-respect (faithful to what I have always considered decent American values) is on the soil of a foreign land.

Well, I must lift up my heart anyway, I suppose. After all, this peculiar reverse "home-sickness" is not a new phenomenon, nor is my experience unique. From the Revolutionary War loyalists to the Underground Railroad runaways to the Jazz Age expatriates, dissenting and disheartened Americans have always looked North and Abroad for refuge, perhaps, renewal.

Lucky Americans: we'll always have Paris...and Canada.