From Warren Ellis' weblog: Spider Jerusalem comments on politics. (No, not me. But reading this might give you an idea of why I chose the name. Heh.)
When they're not around, I put the TV on. Purely out of curiosity, you understand. Up here, we can snatch some forty thousand channels out of the air. Most of them, of course, are still showing CSI and LAW AND ORDER. There are twelve different channels showing LAW AND ORDER 24 hours a day. In some countries, Jerry Orbach has become a cargo-cult figure. They don't understand the language or much of the situations. They comprehend only that Jerry Orbach is immortal. They watch and divine from the show that he outlives the young gods who are selected to be his assistants. Criminals fall. DAs change. Assistants fade away. Jerry Orbach is forever. Jerry Orbach is, in fact, some kind of avenging God-King who will hunt and incarcerate Scum until the end of time.
Speaking of which, here's the President.
Not the real President, you understand. The actual elected President is elsewhere, no longer the President, hiding in some remote residence with a Federally-mandated Secret Service team who make no secret of their loathing for him and shit on his breakfast every morning. No, he's long gone. I'm talking about the Acting President. The one who wasn't elected.
The one who looks like one of those fucking experimental Chimp-Things we used to stick electrodes in and fire into space.
The worst thing is that I used to know the bastard.
Back then, he was simply Junior, living large in Texan sinbins at night while his crazed Daddy ran naked among his cattle herds, his awful ululating howl echoing across the plains as he brought down another cow with his garotte. I met him once. He showed me the garotte and told me it was made "from the guts of Sand Gooks." Daddy was obsessed with the Sand Gooks. He saw them everywhere. His handlers shivered nervously as Daddy got down on his hands and knees and sniffed my crotch like a dog. "You," he snarled, "have known the dusky terrorist pleasure of a Sand Gook woman." He asked me what it was like and stuck his gnarled hand into his pants. His handlers rammed a sedative spike into the top of his head and dragged him off, brownish urine spraying from within his twitching fist.
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http://www.diepunyhumans.com/archives/006554.html
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