Fear and Loathing at the VMAs
In this dystopian fever dream we call reality, with everything worsening apace (faster than a forgotten cube of Colby in the back of the fridge) it’s easy to forget that we once had different aspirations, that we once expected a rising gradient of liveability from our world, and not the agonisingly slow decline we all know and loathe. And yet the punch might be in really rubbing our faces in the muck, and NOT in fey delusions of well meaning individuals with authority and resources suddenly remembering they have a conscience and choosing to do things differently. Because if the room’s filling…
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