On America – Silas Earthworm

November 20, 2025

Observations on Hitler

 
I.
The Clown is forbidden from wearing a beard and will have to hide his weak chin and thin lips under layers of grease paint.
II.
Every man has a pillow flattened by time and yellowed with money nightmares and castration anxiety.
III.
The cuckold is new, having only reached his realization in the most recent century. He reigns now as king of the rookie season.
IV.
Are you comforted by the world? This same world that claims to offer you comfort?
V.
The Joker is Hitler.
VI.
Dr. No is Hitler.
VII.
You are correct to see a Hitler in every shadow, the cosmos is soaked with hundreds of millions of blood thirsty Hitlers.

 
A Century of Growth for American Industry 

“I do unto others what they do to me, only worse.”
-Jimmy Hoffa

 
From behind this windshield you can’t even tell that I can see you.
You can’t feel the eyes of something ancient and incredible cutting you
and your shitty little car into bone white ribbons dancing like ash along the millions and
millions of miles of pointless and searingly hot asphalt. We raped this continent because we loved her and we couldn’t find a way to show her that we loved her besides committing an unthinkably evil act, mile after
Mile after mile, after
it was all said and done we told her;
“Don’t get ahead of yourself thinking about things, one can suffer from thinking too deeply about the bad things that have happened.”
and we shot off into the cool of mid morning must have been about 7 am
and the day, where we drove at least, was undefiled by the commute, by the endless theft of inches around the circumference of a perfectly bought and paid for tire.
What do I make in a week?
Well, I get paid a dollar a mile, It’s a pretty decent rate for an owner operator to make.
How far do I drive?
Well, One week I drove from Snohomish County to Seminole State Park and that week I ate my fill and I drank the waters desperately and I think I had a lot left over but
as you may have guessed
the upkeep on a vehicle
like this one can get very
expensive and while you
may only have to replace
the transmission one time
over the life of the block
even on replacement
could cost you
everything.
Who knows what those bleeding things up ahead are, It could be
As simple as a headlight caught in a shard of glass or it
Could be that something more valuable than light is trapped in the many shards of broken glass forever resting on the side of this country road.
If it got to you it came to you on a truck.
I’m sorry to say it but our fates are forever tied together with the black veins of Demeter herself.

 
Mater Americani

 
I only ever knew the ghost of lovely America.
Kneeling by where she posed, vain as a spectre is, ashen upon the linens of a deathbed,
I wept a river of EBT cards and hummed dirges, aware of being watched and desiring
to be washed with grief’s own purity.

Taking up the shriveled little hand (and don’t trust anyone’s lies; she was always a little thing outsized by her humour and her cruelty) and holding it gently I made oaths.

I swore to the International Monetary Fund and to those few freemasons that were still milling about that I could change. That I would give up impressionism and being macho and I would mortgage my old world estates and finance luxury autocars and I would do whatever they wanted if they would bring her back for a moment, if she would open her milky cataracts and smile at me with her mouth of pitchforks.

But as the bargaining of grieving men often is, my offer hung in the air for a moment and sank to the depths of no reception.

Piss they tell me is sterile and potable and can cure lyme disease and reduce inflammation in the lymphatic system. My son lived in this cycle of pissing and drinking and he is the joy of the whole world.

All that is required for evil to prevail is for men of good conscience to do nothing and in seeking the moderate path should I allow lovely America’s passage into the blackness of death?

“Everyone must die at some station along this relay” hissed the voice of Satan.

Expend the unintelligible!
I am like an upended car in the 21st century snow storm.
My processes are static upon the screen!
My processes are all filled up with tattoos of Spiderman!
My pilgrim’s journey is that my assailant’s murder weapon would collapse into the truth of the life-giver.
My reviver sheepish from the figure of deception.
I unclench and unleash a torrent of piss onto the tikibar shrunken head of Mother America.
I soak her nightgown and I soak her bedsheets
and her sneering attorney catches a stray, and someone cleaning up from where mourners had been catches a stray and he is struck dead by one droplet of piss.

It’s a good thing that white oak has a naturally tight grain and is thus hydrophobic because that too is covered in piss and the committee of cowards beg for reprieve and move to lay brigands’ hands upon me that this wretched ordeal would be undone and that the humiliation would conclude and die into awkward silence and I’m sweating from excursion, nailed to that spot like Samson, chained by fortune to the headboard of lovely America where her cheeks and eyelids and matted and crunchy hair is soaked and smelling of my piss and in stillness, like fragments of tar black pottery, death is ostracized from her.

Where her skin was death, her skin became supple and golden.

Where her skinny lips were hardened into the scowl of disapproval they became plump and dewy and parted into the secret whisper.

Where her hands, even her little hands which were balled into the fists of regret, became open and soft and embracing and rejecting evil with youthful vindication and pulled me into the piss soaked bed and held me and held me to where she could kiss me.

“I love you,” she said.

“You don’t even know me,” Said I.

“Many strangers have I loved.”

And from out of the window I saw a mixed multitude departing for Illinois or Nevada.