The gigantic Mussolini inspired kaleidoscopic nightmare, Maduro can’t seem to shake off, is the real prospect of an armed Coup D Eta.
The man recognizing that under that particular limelight he isn’t a background player but the main attraction. His sleep addled brain worming ways of avoiding that kooky cataclysm; the foregone conclusion cementing into existence and taking a hatchet to his flights of non-extradition fantasies. The world closing, like his seized assets and multimillion-dollar bank-accounts, into an un-penetrable oyster. The man looking like a bedraggled fool whose mind has disengaged from reality and is now not only taking advise from his avian spirit guide but from a multicolored pantheon of equally ridiculous sprites.
“God will provide,” his head-scratching response to the chilling question of “what the fuck are we going to do?”
The Vice President and ministers clapping like trained seals at a circus that’s slowly burning and filling up with funky CO2. Yet, inwardly, a growing faction of flunkies, look on perplexed and troubled at the hysterical and epic level of nonsense the President’s rants have turned into.
“From now on,” goes a levelheaded lickspittle, “he can’t deviate from the script…”
“And what would that snappy script be?” Asks a sober, sensible, sycophantic stooge.
“Nothing more complex than ‘I am Groot.’” Responds the third of the artful abstruse assemble alliance of avid ass-kissers.
But, despite all the obvious signs of unavoidable mutiny, the revolution simply doesn’t churn into existence. Famine, oppression, ignominy, and false representation, coupled and highlighted by pronounced and transparent acts of electoral manipulation, have become the bread and butter of the Venezuelan people… detectable acts of a government racing toward a dictatorship, and still the spark of insurgency always manages to fissile out.
Nicolas Maduro’s noggin either hiding a Lex Luthor like intelligence or a couple of dung beetles that stumble luckily and blind into fortune.
Years of harrowing obfuscation and, no doubt, Luciferian pacts somehow, if not strengthening, at the very least gluing the madhouse calvacade of reprobates into power. The man, and his prolapsing asshole entourage, doing a preternatural tango with the ever-present possibility of armed revolt and rebellion, and always taking “rapy” like lead.
In 2017, Maduro’s superlative and I’d dare say other-worldly handle of a 5 month peaceful yet continued insurrection, once more saved this government’s bacon from the famed fire. Nonetheless, despite the massive exodus, the eternal onslaught of sanctions and a ruinous international policy, can Maduro pull the same Houdini escape again this year?
Well, sadly, the answer is…
Why no Civil Explosion?