Presenting a GQ prose poem, assembled by our very own Mark Byrne from the recent wit and wisdom** of two unexpectedly kindred lunatics:
To sully or contaminate or radically disrespect this union with a shameful contract is something that I will leave to the amateurs and the Bible grippers. This is my country, the country of my great-grandfathers, it’s crystal and it’s pure and its available to everybody. We planted, and we watered it with our grandfather’s blood. There’s nobility in that, there’s focus. I’m dealing with fools and trolls, Damn them, damn their tribes. if they have tribes, if they don’t have tribe. I’m dealing with soft targets, a group giving money and tablets, these hallucination tablets, to these young people. Well, you’ve been warned dude. Bring it. If we have to use the force then we’ll use it. And they’re going to fuel the battle cry of my deadly and dangerous and secret and silent soldiers. Because they’re all around you. Get out of your homes, to the streets—secure the streets, take the rats, the greasy rats out of the streets. Winning.
And I’m sure after this call, people tomorrow will call for new committees. This is me warming up. They have awoken a sleeping giant. If I’m misunderstood after yesterday then people are worse off than I thought. I am talking to you from the house which was bombarded by a hundred and seventy planes, by America and Britain. I’m gonna hang out with these two smoking hotties and fly privately around the world. I am bigger than any job, I am a revolutionary. I don’t have a tuxedo that fits anymore because my chest and my biceps are too big.
If you love with violence and you hate with violence, there’s nothing that can be questioned. This is a mistake made by a young chap from a preparatory school who doesn’t know history.