1. Quo Vadis

A quivering dumb fuck exactly like Donald Trump burns down Rome in the 1951 MGM classic Quo Vadis (lampooned with pointed affection by The Coen Brothers in Hail Caesar, where George Clooney gets kidnapped off the set of a movie exactly like Quo Vadis, and clever ’50s movie-studio intrigue ensues).

If Trump wins, a prominent Republican will commit public suicide while flames engulf our American empire.

Emperor Nero, great monster of human history, is the glorious villain, and you can only think “man-baby,” like what Jon Stewart just called Trump, as doughy, dull-eyed Nero whines and pouts hysterically, not knowing he’s insane. He practically sucks his thumb and diddles his pee-pee as he slaughters innocent, helpless Christians with tigers; crucifies men upside down; and plays a ridiculous harp while singing stupidity as all of Rome burns, by a fire Nero started but publicly pins on Christians.

“THE PEOPLE WON’T BELIEVE SUCH A LIE!” insists the George Clooney guy, Robert Taylor, a Roman general who loves a Christian girl.

“But they are believing it,” says Petronius, Nero’s political adviser. “People will believe any lie, if it is fantastic enough.”

There it is.

Nero mewls bullshit, like “The world is mine, and mine to end,” but the people will believe any lie. He is exactly like Donald Trump. (“We’ll build a big beautiful wall!” “They’re rapists!” “They cheered as the World Trade Center came down.” All that jive.)

Petronius knows it’s cynical, standing by while a mad man-baby massacres his own people. “Out of force of long habit,” he says, “I’ve become content only to be an amused cynic.” Petronius winds up killing himself, slitting his wrists and then ruminating on his complicity as he bleeds out.

Are you listening, House Speaker Paul Ryan? If you stand by, you are complicit. Petronius killed himself, and this is absolutely the fate awaiting Ryan, or sell-out New Jersey Governor Chris Christie, or whichever corrupt cynic is cast as Trump’s VP.

Ride alongside a mad leader and the blood is on your hands too. You’ll kill yourself, Christie, you bitch, if you have a soul.



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