The age of intellectual liberalism is dead. Inevitable, I suppose. The self-designated intelligent, unable to admit wrong, even in the sphere of factual conclusions. The actual factual conclusions.
The story, the deal, the truth. What occurred, what happened, what went down. The thinness of the skins. The lameness of the fits.
Convinced of their elevation. A superiority complex. Pre-modern. Pre-historic, pretending.
Like deniers, delusional and dumb. Name callers, like the fools did, like the insecure do, like the bitter will. They will talk to each other, the stupid inspiring more stupidity. And the righteousness involved is staggering, some probably believe they don't sin.
Like, a big sin. Like, you know. Like, not a major one. Not in awhile anyway.
The oily still lube about, making it all slick. Greasing, taking bribes. Doing favors, turning tricks. Crying.