by Andy Nowicki
The alienated soul, of whom I have felt compelled to write of much lately, is one who recognizes the contemporary modern liberal Zeitgeist for the trussed-up sham that it is, yet at the same time can’t seem to will himself to believe in anything beyond this monstrous Moloch which looms so ubiquitously in his midst and bestrides him like a Colossus everywhere he goes.
That he despises this dreadful buggering beast is a given; he’ll be God-damned if he’ll ever be bullied into “loving Big Brother,” like that pussy Winston Smith in 1984 (or so he thinks to himself, bucking his spirit up temporarily with sheer self-generated buoyant bravado).
