Douglas Brayton II
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American Poet and Writer
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Stories (4)
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In UnAmerica
As I sit here and read a New York Times article about President Donald Trump, I can't help but imagine an old lady propped up at a dark smokey lounge near an airport somewhere slurping her third gin and tonic blaspheming about her ex husband. A shadow of her former self, precisely deploying the most spiteful insults and sentiment all the while knowing she had a much different opinion of said "bastard" at a different point in time and despite her level of intoxication the articulation and mutilation of said reputation of the ex was flawless and concise with the intent to destroy satisfied for now.
By Douglas Brayton II6 years ago in The Swamp
ScAMerica
I smell a rat festering today in our American media - it's a sickly sweet, pungent funk with a reek that jolts the gut. The air of the media ether is thick like caramel-not fluid; like the good ol'days when spin was sly emphasis versus blatant propaganda. Our media viscosity no longer clear and viscous, but dark and cloudy like day old coffee.
By Douglas Brayton II6 years ago in The Swamp
