A vast sea of dead and dying creatures presided over by the fat, repulsive Angel of Death Cheney. His ratlike minions scuttle around clutching their Blackberries and chittering corporate code.
Gloating, he hovers over the Gulf of Mexico, his oil-grimed black wings sinuously flapping... eldest daughter gleefully yapping at his ankles.
For the moment they are strangely silent, after months of constant presence on accommodating American television, showboating on Fox, one hopes that they might at last be experiencing guilt and shame -- but no.
They are momentarily stunned by the awesomeness of their success, silently savoring the sight of their spoils, dying pelicans dripping crude oil on the beaches, whitening and fouling corpses of fish, sea mammals, all manner of dead creatures brought to life by the seas and felled by the U.S. Supreme Court-strengthened arm of the Almighty Corporation.
Could it be so glorious? This great victory?
The total victory of corporate will over mere, feeble, mortal humanity.
Immortal corporatism shall live on and on and on, decimating all living creatures, even humanity...
Cheney bows down to his Superior Being, the Anti Christ, the Corporation British Petroleum PLC and receives for his labors a crude oil begrimed halo. A black-robed Greek chorus of five furiously claps, Cheney's loyal claque, Scalia, Roberts, Alito, Thomas and Kennedy.
All those secret meeting poring over a table-wide map of Iraq, who could have known that the territorial take would also include a vast body of water, the Gulf of Mexico.
This kind of article really should have come in comic-book form with this cartoonish vision.
(Hat tip: Big Mo '76)
