Sheep Vote for Wolves

“A nation of sheep will soon beget a government of wolves.”

--- Edward R. Murrow, 1962

Wolves lose no sleep over the opinions of sheep. The lot of sheep is boredom. The lot of the wolf is loneliness. The former must vote for the later out of necessity. If guilt is the interest paid on a debt you never owed, then a lot of 2016 voters should find a better loan shark. Whatever their party, ideology or psychosis, the woods are full of lonely wolves ready to devour just for the sake of devouring. Wolves are known to do that you know. They seem to be the only other mammal that kills for sport. Even lions need a motive. Wolves and humans need none at all. Where does this come from? At the deepest level it arises out of disgust, revulsion, fear of being lost, trembling in loneliness, and sickness unto death. By comparison, Søren Kierkegaard would be a gay blade in a San Francisco bath house.

These wolf packs go by strange names having little to do with their motives. The ‘Democratic’ Wolfe pack is led by a thimble-witted lunatic firmly living in a 1930’s Soviet Union. He’s alone, of course, since all his ilk are dead. Only pups follow him since they never learned about the old Soviet Union. They think it’s a good deal; free shit for everyone, no rich, no poor, just sex. They hump cold trees dreaming of this lonely wolf’s paradise. He makes them wear condoms of his own design. They are lost and lonely themselves because they refuse to propagate. They can’t afford it. So, most males hump cold trees. The females and some of the males just frottage each other. They find this liberating and fulfilling for some reason.

Some chase the Ice Princess. She’s the wife of the former King Corruptus I. He tried to lead the pack to Europe but they refused to go after he was caught lying about his deep forest tryst with Caitlyn, the legendary transsexual wolf of myth and lore. Except for the creep factor no one cared about the sex. But he lied about it. “I never had sex with that transsexual, Ms. Caitlyn…not once.” he told the world. Technically, this was true since he raped her several times and “not once”. Since then, he only appears publicly with his uncomely and confused daughter. He thinks she can lead wolves someday. He is wrong. His daughter is lonely and stupid with a PhD from Oxford to prove it. Wolves circle her with invitations to cocaine parties hoping they can change her stupidity about everything in general.

The Ice Princess wears indecorous pants suits. She thinks only the bitch wolves are worth saving. The pants suits are supposed to attract the bitches. So far no luck. She thinks they will forget about her husband King Corruptus, The Debauched, and their cloddish offspring. They are wrong. These are lonely wolves. They have nowhere to go except chasing the Ice Princess running out onto thin ice in a sequined, purple pants suit. Jackals and hyenas pursue her. They snip at her heels. She bleeds while the old lunatic laughs from the woods. His pups hump cold trees without issue. So they turn on each other. That’s another reason they are lonely. Their parts don’t work properly for humping trees or each other.

The ‘Republican’ wolf pack surrounds the forest noses sniffing the air for blood and wasted sperm on tree trunks. They find plenty. They are sexually aroused by the lamentations of the Ice Princess bitten repeatedly by hyenas and jackals. But first they had to eat their own children. Their children grew spindly, and rickets-ridden. They made promises they never intended to keep. Their mouths could not move without lying again to cover previous lies. They bribed each other into silence and neglect. They grew old those days they were so young. They thought compliance was power. That’s why they became lonely in their popularity. Soon they were eaten. For who is silent is seen to consent until they don’t.

And then a trumpet was sound. And the lonely were raised, raised corruptible and they were changed, and these wolves put on invincibility. First they ate the rickets-ridden and then the lying lame. Soon the senile lunatic and his pups were devoured as well. Easy pickings as they never stopped humping cold trees while gnawing at the rancid bark. The Ice Princess drowned in her own melt. She sank to the bottom of the lake still smiling for photos that would never be taken. She was lonely too. But we knew that.

Then came the bear. A great beast with no fear of irksome wolves. It was the abundance of blood that summoned him. It was the Trumpeter who led him to his prey. The wolves had almost wiped each other out. Only a few brave ones remained. They were alone against the bear. But the bear was glad of the Trumpeter and his trumpet wolves. He could take his time savoring them one by one as they tried to hide in the Bushes. They bared their fangs dripping with blood and spit. They angled for an attack circling on three sides. For a moment it seemed they would kill the bear. Wild screams from the trees gave them pause. Yet another pack of wolves lived in the trees with the birds and monkeys. They were just as amusing as their arboreal mates. They had decided they did not actually want to be wolves and hunt in a pack. They were free of all that. They were righteous wolves. And so they called themselves, ‘libertarians’. All of them were albino. None of them was quite normal even for a righteous wolf. Each has a slightly annoying flaw, a facial tick, a drool, a touch of halitosis, poor fashion choices, personal hygiene issues, a licentious leer, or a curiously silly smile that cameras disdained. Some stuck out their tongues at reporters. They liked being odd…together. Besides it protected them from the other wolves who refused to eat them lest they be contaminated by these oddities.

The bear silenced them with a laughing roar, snubbing all of them, he farted and strolled away. Alone. Squirrels chuckled after him. Birds dove to investigate his dung. The great bear laughed as he mused. All the wolves were together eating each other, he thought. It was the pack itself that made them lonely. They could not get to that place where they hurt no one. They could not be alone. Poor wolves, he sighed. They needed each other to be miserable. They needed each other to kill their loneliness. In the end all they killed was each other.

And that’s how a nation of sheep begat

a government of wolves. They deserved it.

They're sheep.

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