Once upon a time, Bob Talbot wanted to change the world.
I was a tryhard. A seriousposter. Life decisions and circumstances choked it out of me. It has you in its grasp as well. I see you very well, former anarchists. I’ve noticed how you slide so comfortably from, “Fuck you I won’t do what you tell me,” to subservient gratitude for what you will have to endure.
Some of you have dug your filthy nicotine-coated fingernails into the pavement and started yelling for real. There was a time, not too long ago, when everyone wanted the curtain pulled back on Oz the Great and Powerful. Now the curtain has vanished, and still the people’s eyes are transfixed on the giant floating head before them, bookended by horrid flames. The booming voice echoes our instructions. I see the few, the undefeated, screaming, “Turn your heads.” Toto runs in and pulls on the Wizard’s pant leg, a situation that would have tickled everyone to their core even six months ago. Now some of them only mutter, “Euthanize that mongrel.” They all continue staring forward, unmoving.
When the time comes for you to believe in a lie, I implore you, believe in the lie of Bob Talbot 2016: FULL COMMUNISM, BABY. Believe in star empires, robot bodies, post-scarcity and the Hyperloop. Dream of Tomorrow-morrow Land, for it dreams of you.
If you have to cast a vote not worth casting, don’t cast it well. Cast it for Bob Talbot 20X6: FULL COMMUNISM, NOW AND FOREVER.
When you hold your grandchildren on your knee and they ask, “What did you do in the great election of 2016,” you won’t have to say, “Well, I fear-voted for a millionaire backed by billionaires because I was afraid of a lousy, foul-mouthed clown.”
You’ll say, “I voted for Little Bobby Talbot,” and gesture out at the Martian plains.
Never stop fighting. They’ll stomp it out of you soon enough. Make them do the dirty work.