Sparkle while you can, die trying

800px-Pieter_Bruegel_the_Elder-_The_Seven_Deadly_Sins_or_the_Seven_Vices_-_Pride.JPG

Superbia (Pride) by Pieter Bruegel The Elder. 1577.

Marco Richards was slated for bigger and greater things. He had it going on. There’s no denying it; he was full of moxie and chutzpah. What Einstein was for modern physics (The science, not the latest sex manual from Ikea™), Marco was for humanity. He was the last sparkle of a can of Coca-Cola® rapidly going flat. Sadly, like so many protagonists, he had one major flaw that would deny him from his destiny.


It really depends on which side of the fence you’re on. Was it all about his inability to conform? Or was it a greater thorn stemming from pride? Of the seven deadly sins, pride seems to be the most problematic in that it should be easily prevented. Here’s the rub: pride is blind to itself, and refuses to recognize itself.

Take, in case, Trump, the current president of the United States. He is the living embodiment of pride built on a tower of lies, from his corrective orthopedic shoes to the top of his whatever the hell that is. Honestly, is that supposed to be hair or a clever hat? The other day, I swear I saw three obese guinea pigs suckling from a teat on the top of his head. What is that thing supposed to be?

It’s hard enough listening to that stupid lying man blather on and on about how rich people, his friends, are going to be mad at him for this new tax proposal. Yet, that thing, that monstrosity sits on his head, lurking. It’s like sitting through a horrible movie waiting for that cool mystic martial arts guy from the beginning to return. Some bad-ass stuff is going to happen, and the wait will be worthwhile. What I’m saying is: that thing is going to be the death of us all. Yes, I’m implying that thing on the head is the true living organism, while the rest is just bulbous wrinkled ass flab. I have heard that Taft is rolling over in his grave in fear that his record for being the fattest president is about to be broken.

They say the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, but the converse is also true; the tree doesn’t fall far from the apple. Michael Flynn just admitted guilt to lying to the FBI™. Don’t be surprised when the wig sings a high-pitched tone, hypnotizing and transforming all the NRA supporters into tiki-wielding zombies. Chaos will surely ensue. The most frightening aspect here, this is just the apple.

Sparkle

One thought on “Sparkle while you can, die trying

  1. Pingback: Sparkle while you can, die trying Part 2 | The Home Of DJ Sung Mo Koo

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