America no longer feels the Bern, Sanders pulls out

With Bernie Sanders pulling out of the race, it forever proves that the poor don’t matter, and caring is a weakness in America.  



To use an old Soviet aphorism, this is indeed why we can’t have nice things. Last night, the grand old socialist man of American politics, Bernie Sanders, announced that he’s pulling the pin on his presidency push, thereby rolling the eyes and drying the teeth of everyone not in the ranks of the 1%.

So, what happened? The catchphrase was ‘Bernie 2020’, the flavour would be revenge, the digestif would be universal healthcare, and America would wriggle free of the jackboot of the rich and obvious concessions would be won.

It should have been fine, right? We all loved Bernie in 2016, that plucky independent Democrat who was cruelly halted by the nonsense of the super PAC system. It was a near miss, it was a damn shame. But, wind the clock forward to 2020, and he didn’t even make it that far. America loves a redemption tale, and they certainly love meh grade celebrity SNL impersonations of an elected official.

Talking a walk through the hellscape that is Twitter, the news has not gone down well at all. It seems the average American punter no longer feels anything. Now, I grant you, you can find anyone to oppose anything on that stupid page, but I’m reminded of this tweet of yesteryear.



Clearly, all that is left is the establishment. Or, more accurately, a tepid South Park joke come to life. The 2020 election will now be toss-up between a giant douche and a turd sandwich. The Democrats didn’t decide to opt for something new, they opted for their hideous golem to best the Republican version. Biden v Trump is an outcome so bland, so hideous, America must now decide which old rich white dude with an eroding brain and sexual assault allegations would be the right one to lead the country.

Yes, I grant you that as an outsider, this is really none of my business. However, what I’m feeling is the same within the borders of that country, in that hope is fickle, and caring is sign of weakness. I wager that while the worst of our fears are seldom realised, I fear we’re about to face another landslide and four more years of the tangerine terror.




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