Much like the proverbial falcon no longer hearing the call of the falconer, Venezuela has ceased to be able to hear the call of sanity and rationality. In other words, in Venezuela, things are falling apart, the center does not hold, and merest anarchy has loosed upon Venezuelans’ world.
Socialist death squads have loosed a blood-dimmed tide against which innocent protesters, in that cherished ceremony non-violent protest in all its democratic innocence, are drowned by an orgy of state-sanctions violence, where the only safety is to abandon any conviction of a better life in order to merely survive, as the passionate intensity of the well armed—and fed—storm troopers of a rather new nationalist socialism rages in the streets.
The second coming of promised prosperity—now long forgotten—arising from the nationalization of other people’s property by the proletarian Spiritus Mundi gazing blankly and pitilessly as the darkness of poverty—now that they have run out of other people’s money—drops down while the indignant reel of what few brave protesters remain behind their barricades cast their shadow.
Venezuela has become a socialist hell—a promised new Bethlehem thither slouches the rough beast of Maduro, vexed to nightmare in socialism’s rocking cradle by now Earth-rotting Hugo Chavez, his hour come round at last.
Venezuela—a second coming… but of what?
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