Anyone else plagued by a persistent, deep foreboding... the sense that the fix is in?
This sensation's become the occasional, droning companion to my thoughts, a mosquito I can hear but somehow not quite swat. It is not yet an epic tale, but it feels like we're getting there, we're getting there.
Closest I can come to explaining the goose-bumped phenomenon: It's akin to The Feeling That Descended Like a Cloud of Ice Fog in 2000, when SCOTUS suspended the Constitution, and Our Democracy, and installed its own choice of president to power.
We yawned, shrugged, scratched, stretched, and embraced that decision -- which should have been cause for another round of hair-raising alerts. It was suddenly clear that we would accept anything.
That mosquito whine continues -- distantly heard, as in half-awake sleep, triggering the willingness and readiness to slap oneself black and blue, all over, trying to get it, trying to make it stop...