Message to a Carbuncle

You are not useless Andrew. You are, at one and the same time, better than, exactly equal to, and worse than useless. Many may wonder what genuinely useful societal function you perform, Andrew. None is overtly or remotely apparent, save one.

A carbuncle is useful only insofar as it indicates infection. Once you know that, the pain is just fucking annoying.

And that is you, Andrew Breibart. You are merely the swollen angry abscess telling society that something is wrong in the American body politic. You are symptomatic of a cynical and hidebound political infection. So, for that you are somewhat useful. But, not really.

We already knew that the country had a deeply-seated racial, politically cynical infection. Big time. Which means that you, Andrew Breitbart, are pretty much useless.

Except, you're not. You're worse than useless. You hurt. In a quite specific place. Curing that underlying infection, which gives rise to painful carbuncles such as yourself, is not on everyone's political agenda. And there you are, throbbing away as the underlying infection senses election season.

Rightly, it is your angry bloated self and your worse than useless, divisive poisonous ilk who foist your, and their, schismatic, race baiting lies upon society, whom society ought to have cast to the dour tent cities of Los Angeles, and Chicago, and St. Louis, or to have doomed to wander shattered, aimless, homeless roads, while unfortunate yahoo mishap abandons you to an anonymous, rat infested, shit strewn ditch, bleeding, fading, ... where until, finally, a blessed Mother Nature and her precious earth judiciously rend asunder your corrupted agglomeration of molecules, and employ them in genuinely useful enterprise.

But no. As we know, and in direct abeyance of the corporeal efficiencies of sweet Mother Nature, this just society has been held back by a connivance, a connivance of power and money. It is that openly growing societal infection by which worse than useless sores like you, Andrew, are not hence rendered into more useful enterprise.

Too often, good people wind up in grim and dire societal straits, people who believed that honest work and doing right was the way to make it. The "system," as they call it. Saps, as you surely see them. These are some of the folks living in cars, and tents, while an infected political calculus churns out racist bile, and raises to high red anger and mild celebrity, you, Andrew Breibart. There you are. Looking fat and angry and sassy. Doing quite well, it would seem. You're on television, and people are talking about you. Well taken care of. No just tent in sight.