MAGA: Maul Americans' Government Assembly.

The Mob's attack was always part of the Plan: this post is largely reprinted from My Inaugural Post from 2017. 

Many were surprised by the Rout at Das Capital, but cummon, we always knew it was the one promise that Trumpelstiltskin would keep:, to Maul America's Government Assembly.

Flag of the Furor

Where does Trump come from? Stocks. Where is he going? Into Stocks. What are his tastes? Stocks. Has he any principles? Stocks. What gives him a voice in Congress? Stocks. Although he never of himself achieved success in anything (beyond ushering one company after the other into bankruptcy court), never originated anything, never produced anything, let it suffice to know he has Stocks. O mighty Stocks.

To manipulate those blaring instruments of finance up so high as to cause us smaller vermin, as though under the influence of crack cocaine or crystal meth, to cry out night and day, "Relieve us of our money, scatter it for us to the winds of chance, buy us and sell us, ruin us to enrich yourself, only, we beseech you, sit on the Peecock Throne among the other powers of the earth and fatten yourself, even to the state of repugnancy, on us.

And then spin spin spin those Stocks into gold, lest King Midas Muffle her, changing her golden fleets back to straw dogs nipping at her too-high heels. MedUSA, MedUSA, MedUSA, which turned his heart to stone, his skin to flint and drained power from his tower.  As the crowds below yelled Rapunzel Rapunzel, his daughter/advisor, Ivanka the Terrible, let down her long hair and into the sanctuary, the mystery, the hallowed ground, climbed, following Trumpelstiltskin's bidding, a riotous mass of faces, bent on creating a wild weekend with Bernie as they tumbled into the sanctum sanctorum, intent on breaking the chapel windows, juggling the sacred vessels and performing step-dances round the tabernacle.

Up, up, up they climbed, and in a flash Das Capital was crammed with maniacs wielding clubs, sticks, rifles, flagpoles; filled with deafening tumult, oaths, shouts, screams, hootings; changed suddenly into a beer-garden, a madhouse, an infernal temple: men darting in and out, by door and by window, smashing glass, raiding the bar, flying down long halls, smashing through doorways, tearing down barriers; dragging guards down the stairs into the fray who were then thrashed to a pulp on the marble floors, soon followed by the sound of a gun's blast; some were sitting astride the Villa Valencia settees puffing on atomizers stuffed with weed, as others were cutting down the curtains, and still more were hacking and hewing at an early 18th century painting, its frame veneered with gilt copper, stuffing their pockets with trinkets without even glancing at what they might be, invading lawmakers' offices and trashing them right in front of our eyes, wantonly wasting, pulling down and tearing up: nothing left unscratched, nothing private: men everywhere - above, below, overhead, in the meeting rooms, in the offices, in the atrium - carousing into the House chamber where a horde of them were tearing through the rostrums, ripping up the Assembly hall, jumbling up the guards and stomping on those attempting to stop their mad onrush; all the while more men were pouring in - some  yelling some singing, some fighting, some breaking heads and shouting calumny, some pouring in, some ringing the bells till they pulled them from the walls, others beating guards' heads with fire-extinguishers till they were pulverized: more men still - more more more - swarming in like insects: noise, smoke, light, darkness, frolic, anger, laughter, groans, plunder, fear, and ruin whirled through the air like a raid of locusts on a defenseless crop, a Luftwaffe air raid strafing a terrified village.

At length the band began to reassemble inside the suites, and to call to those remaining without to  join them, so, as one phalanx streamed in through the window, the leaders of the mob streamed through the hallways and down the stairs, out the front doors and into the street, bent on spreading more mayhem until their irresistible onslaught bumped up against the immovable security forces, at which point they flowed like so many rats down ripped up sewers grates and popped manhole covers, through underground parking garages, streaming screaming into subway entrances leaving behind a flaming ruin and a pall of terror.

Thus have the forces unleashed by the mocking muppet, this Killer Klown from the Empire State, stunned and castigated the electoral victors by inciting the rabble to revel in a feverish orgy of anarchy, displaying the destruction and nihilism he fostered within them until it cried to be unleashed in a paroxysm of enkindled fire as the unexpressed rage he has bellowed to a white hot heat explodes in our face.