There’s Too Much Confusion

What you think this is: a dark satire that speaks to our disgust with commissars and oligarchs.

What this actually is: a confession of bloodlust, felt everywhere, but neither understood nor (openly) admitted to.

See, the thing is, people, keep it up like you have been — the rage and the fervent belief, unsupported by serious arguments — and in retrospect this kind of thing is going to look quaintly optimistic. Bloodlust isn’t nearly so sensible as the sensible hope.

Don’t say I didn’t warn you.

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