Death of the Stag

The air is calm and thick. Moss is growing on everything. The sunlight trickles down through the forest’s canopy in columns.

The sharp crack of a twig comes from the left of you and a stag sprints by chased by something, but you can’t quite see what it is.

When I think about the current political climate, this is what I imagine. The stag represents the GOP and the millennials are the undefined thing chasing it.

Low approval ratings, no trust in congress and with reps giving the ok to things like ISPs selling your data it’s no surprise.

The stag comes to a cliff reaching up into the grey, looks left and right, it’s shaped like a bowl. He’s trapped.

The force inches closer, and the stag stands on it’s hind legs in defense. A loud snort and deep breath is heard.

Many of my friends hate Dirty Trump. A surprising amount love him.

But when I think about the climate and his succession as POTUS, the whole situation with the GOP I can’t help but equate it to the breath of the stag.

It’s the breath before death, the breath before the end and rebirth.

Right before economies fail they have sharp upticks. It’s a sign of a bubble popping, of confidence reaching it’s peak.

The current climate is equivalent. This hard swing right, it’s the generation before us grabbing the reigns for one last pull, one last breath before…

The force comes within inches of the stag, it finally sees the face of it’s pursuer.