Stiltwalker Junction and the Titanium Mouthpowder Party

AS THE CULTURAL LANDSCAPE SHIFTS, and reasonable people come to terms with changes like ethnic “minorities” (if measured within invisible borderlines)  becoming “majorities” (which we already are on this land mass!), some oldsters will cling to the  past. They will throw down their septic sandbags at the foot of a tidal flow that is fed by the nourishing delta-heart of creation, and thus can never be denied. These Legacy-breathers shuffle forth and begin to appear at the horizon; a pale, flaking flock of white fright, powdered jowls quivering like cognac-plumped jelly slouching down in the heat of a tropical dawn, the Old Guard begins to meltdown in public, tears of hatred, tears of Vicks, tears of frustration, scowls carved to appeal to the Working Middle Class, nails buffed and polished to protect their fine linens and thin skins. They shriek about “skewed” blogs and losing the moat, they fear for their authority, they dare not question the stilts that have vaulted them to their esteemed position. They know not how to bend, and so they will break. And they will break well-paid, and they will break all that has been made, and they will break in public and day after day after day. Until their scabrous, dinosaur empire has finally sifted, sunwise, into dust. Which, by nature’s decree, it must.

And where will they be? Where will the Bunker of Whiteness and the minions of yesterday’s errant ways manifest to bray back the bay of dawn?

FOX news! Home of Imus, Beck, O’Reilly, and soon…Lou?

But it is nice that they’ll be easy to find, all coagulating in one spot. Like a ring of zombie ants surrounding a lollipop of rot!