Democracy’s a Drag Show, and We’re All Clapping Seals

This is Spider Thompson, your truth-slinging, chain-smoking prophet of the Country, here to rip the sequins off the quadrennial circus you call democracy. Every four years, you dolts dress up in your patriotic best, waddle to the polls, and pick from a lineup of shiny, ad-funded puppets—each one a corporate handjob with a better haircut. You call it freedom. I call it a rigged slot machine, spitting out the same old jackpots for the suits while you cheer for the flashing lights. The other 1,460 days? You’re just seals, flapping your flippers while lobbyists and insiders jerk the levers behind the curtain.

They’ll tell you real democracy means your voice matters 24/7, like some ancient veche bell ringing every time the big shots want to start a war, hike your taxes, or decide if pineapple on pizza is a crime against humanity (it is). Sounds righteous, doesn’t it? A grand table where every slob gets a say. But let’s cut the crap—do you even want that? Most of you can’t be bothered to read the fine print on a cereal box, let alone vote on drone strikes or infrastructure bonds. You’re too busy doomscrolling X, mainlining outrage porn, and arguing with bots that have better grammar than you.

Maybe deep down, you don’t want democracy’s sweaty, chaotic orgy. Maybe you’re jonesing for a slick overlord—some benevolent tyrant with a sharp suit and sharper PR team to keep the trains running and the riffraff in line. If that’s your kink, fine. Just stop calling it democracy. It’s a protection racket with ballots, and you’re paying for the privilege of being screwed.

But if you’re drunk on the idea of true democracy—every citizen weighing in, no middleman, no bullshit—good luck. Politicians can’t handle that kind of heat; they’d choke on their own ties if the rabble got a daily vote. And you? You’re not exactly itching to debate tax codes between your third energy drink and your second vape hit. Humans are lazy, distracted, and half of ‘em are offline anyway, muttering about 5G conspiracies while the other half’s arguing over which influencer’s ass deserves a Pulitzer.

So here comes the tech fairy tale, swooping in with promises of a digital veche bell. Blockchain to tally your votes? Cute, till it crashes harder than a crypto bro’s ego. AI to parse your X rants into policy? Sure, if you trust it not to rewrite your “eat the rich” screed as “more tax breaks for billionaires.” Tech’s a shiny toy, but it’s only as good as the meatbags using it—and most of you can’t even spot a phishing scam, let alone govern a nation.

So what’s it gonna be, you glorious idiots? A real democratic circus, with tech as the ringmaster and every one of you screaming your half-baked takes into the void? Or a cozy dictatorship with better branding, where you trade your voice for a Netflix subscription and a pat on the head? The choice is yours, but don’t kid yourself—you’re not choosing freedom unless you’re ready to bleed for it. Speak up, or shut up.

I’m Spider Thompson and I’m done here.