The Fat Boy, The Bully

The Fat Boy, the Bully, sits alone in the control room.  He sits in front of a microphone and speaks for a few hours, 5 days a week, and his words are carried on the radio-waves and the radio-waves irradiate the country with his words.  He broadcasts his words from shore to shore.


He is a fat boy, a big, over-fed baby.  His fatness is important.  The world revolves around him, he has created his own little universe, and everything is swallowed by him and regurgitated out into the world.  His is infantile.  He is weak, he is a bully, but he only picks on those who can't touch him, can't confront him, can't speak back.


He singles out the weak: the poor, the minorities, the women, the gays, and he attacks his one great false Straw Man, the Liberal.  These are all figments of his imagination, and he really isn't all that imaginative.  They are stereotypes, cartoons, and he rails against these false pictures of real people.


His words are poison.  They corrupt the air that he breathes and spews back out into the land.  His words pollute the conversation, they wash over the land like a fat and stupid-making plague.  He conjures a plague of words that dumb down everything in it's path.

And there are those craven souls out in the heartland.  They live vicariously through the words of the Bully.  They are aspiring, or secret bullies too, and they are heartened by the words of hate and stupidity.  They cheer the Bully on and laugh at his vile words of ridicule.  They are the Afraid Ones.  They are afraid of change.  Afraid of the new face of the land.  And there's nothing they can do about it, except trade on the fear and hate that resides in their breasts. 


And he has positioned himself as some kind of hovering spiritual leader of a political party, the Republican Party.  And they bow down to him, they are afraid of him.  They fear that he could turn his plague upon them if they cross the Bully.  But then one day the Bully takes a step too far. He conducts a vicious campaign of hate against a young woman.  And it's just too much, too vile for too many ears.  And many people see him as the little craven, pathetic bully he really is, and they call him out.


And the Bully quivers.  He teeters.  He is afraid.  And he claims to be a victim.  And the country laughs.  They laugh at his utterly pitiful plague of words.  And the little Fat Boy, the Bully sits in his darkened studio, all alone, choking on his own bile.