My ferocious competitor in instant fiction, master of the flies and master of cognitive chaos, has changed the rules of the game.
It is not to our advantage. We used to be able to make up stories, tongue in cheek, creating an alternative world to illuminate the real one in which we wake up every day.
Not so anymore. We wake up every morning to find ever-changing pronouncements of doom. We wake up into an alternative world, cheek tightly tied around our tongue. We try to recover the real world, which is no longer recognizable to the naked eye.
We yearn for a return to decency, which has been abolished by decree.
Satan couldn’t do better if he existed.
But who knows?