‘President-elect Trump, if you seek greatness, if you seek prosperity for the United States of America and the Western Hemisphere, if you seek restoration: Think big, not small! Mr. Trump, build a bridge, not a wall! Mr. Trump, fuck the wall. Build a bridge and charge for it, if you want to. But build a goddamn bridge.
‘Then again, that’s how Walder Frey started off, with two towers and a bridge, so fuck the bridge and the wall. Buy yourself some dragon eggs and set your tent on fire, pillows and all. It won’t hurt, I promise. You’ll come out of the flames like Daenerys Targ-aryen, with your clothes gone but your hair intact, and you’ll show all those nasty Dothraki what it means to be Storm Born and the Ruler of Fuck-all. It’s not just a TV show, I swear, it happens in real life. Just step into the flames, please, quit stalling. Your tan needs it.
‘Or maybe you can create amazing technologies that will make life cool and fascinating and beautiful, the most beautiful, the best beautiful ever. So beautiful. Create amazing technologies and taunt the entire world while everyone you know tries to steal them and go rogue, and then you are free to lose your mind and mouth off at everyone, if you haven’t been doing so already, which you have, and suddenly there’s a civil war on, or a general war, or a food fight in the hall, and you’re looking for the person who punched you in the chest with a big blue iridescent fist leaving a bright blue mark on your midriff. And your name ain’t Stark — Tony, not Arya, though you could pass for Arya Stark, you’re mad like that, looking for the Freyed-in-the-brain Walders behind the two towers for all the shit they’ve done to you — your name ain’t Stark until you find the fuckers, and when you find the fuckers you’ll mince the shit out of them, sizzle them to kingdom come.
‘Or, maybe you could do a little Walter White thing, but I haven’t watched the show, only heard about it, so I can’t make good analogies. But you get the picture.
‘This is all very confusing, of course. When the fiction characters we love begin to resemble real-life characters we despise, it messes both with our realities as well as our entertainment. They won’t leave us alone, the experts of brinkmanship, not even in our escapisms, on our time off.
It gets even worse when the real-life characters we despise talk a few good points that no one in the establishment dares broach, yeah, but then they yap the ante by mixing these few good points with a hundred total shit points prepared somewhere between smut-for-brains and go-fuck-yourself, tainting those very few good points faster than Aaron Sorkin tainted the notion of a few good men with his equally OTP and misconceived story of naval justice, his oh so simplistic version of greatness that sounded good until you sat down and thought about it — claptrap from the opposite side of the argument — when all this happens, we’re left standing there, confused, wondering what the fuckety-fuck happened to good old common sense — a quality not to be confused with leftist manifestos, right-wing demagoguery, black or white divisions and polka-dot bikini paintball parties, or anything that has ‘seen the light’ — I’m talking something far stronger and truly great: good old functional common sense that makes actual fucking tripping amazeballs no-shit sense!
I guess we’ll have to reimagine it because we’ve been too dark lately, all darkness and no sense. We’re going to have to make up some darn sense and tell it like we see it.
‘Mr. Trump, say hello to fiction: the Fifth Estate! Mr. Trump, beware of the Fifth Estate! Mr. Trump, the Fifth Estate raised you, and the Fifth Estate will drain your swamp!
“And then we’ll say thank you, fuck you, and move on!’
From your shamelessly foulmouthed and ever-imaginative Spin Doctor,
Eyes open, mind sharp.