art, blog, blogger, blogging, Cecily Strong, CIA, Colin Jost, diary, Fiction, IS, ISIL, isis, journal, Liam Neeson, Lorne Michaels, Michael Che, non-fiction, Obama, SNL, stream of consciousness, Ted Cruz, writer, writing
He wakes up. President Obama has gone Liam Neeson on IS or ISIL or ISIS or whatever the gang of desert ne’er do wells are called. He is not sure that President Obama believes anything he says publicly anymore but he’s saying it he saying it again and again. He watches as the fear of ISIS grows and grows and grows and the news stories talk about the growing fears even as the CIA says again and again that there are no credible threats and when the CIA say there are no credible threats there are probably no credible threats because the CIA love having credible threats to get their black ops money for and are always willing to talk about threats so even if they don’t think that they are a threat then are they a threat. He does not know. Then he gets angry because Cecily Strong is being kicked off Weekend Update because no one wants to kick the White coiffed head writer off Weekend Update because the white man always wins even though her replacement is the excellent Michael Che but why not have Michael Che and Cecily Strong is it because Lorne Michaels thinks that America is not ready for a black man and a white woman to appear together on live television doing comedy together week in and week out is america still terrified of a black man and a white woman making comedy together is this where we are have we not moved on he thinks to himself. Then he plans his lunch. Then he goes to the gym. Then he showers. Then he wonders if Ted Cruz’s strange argument that Lorne Michaels could be in prison for satire if a law limiting Citizens United comes into affect is a real argument or if Senator Ted Cruz is actually an apolitical performance artist who managed to get elected with grant money from a billionaires art foundation. It is a hot muggy night. He sits in Wholefoods and joins the other hairy homeless men in the pot plants and the dirty tables. He holds hands. He goes to sleep.