Twitch City TV: Super Tuesday

I followed the Super Tuesday results, on CNN XTREME NEWZ 4 TEENS! Every corner an advert. A giggling cartoon baby gets hit by a Ford truck. The baby explodes. The truck turns into a wolf and screams at the moon FORD: BABY KILLIN’ STRONG! THE TRUCK BROUGHT TO YOU BY VIAGRA IN PARTNERSHIP WITH MONSTER ENERGERY DRINKS. (A subdivision of Purdue Entertainments.) The moons explodes. The wolf explodes. Repeat. Repeat. Show it again. This time with more lasers and bigger tits. Also, the tits are hamburgers. The hamburgers explode.

Checking in with the poll results. The vertiginous zooming in and out. A slippery man with box shoulders fingers Houston. “You’re so dynamic, Houston You’ve changed so much. Please take me back, Houston. I love you.” But the charts are so boring. They’re just the same old bar graphs that you can find scrawled across any restroom wall. The exact same sigils drawn in blood and carved in wood below the carpets of every Motel 6. This is 2020!

We need stronger stuff. We’re not only trying to summon some liquid shadow out of Florida. Not only trying to crack open the crystalline joints of meth’s hive mind to sniff the vapor. We must go deeper. We must go harder. Faster. We must repeat. Repeat. We must repeat.

No yellowed Polaroid demon for us. The pictures are moving. We need a graphic that takes proper advantage of this new media environment. Why even a graphic?

How about a noise?

Every candidate has now been assigned a particular sound. Demonic whispering. Howling from the abyss. Fighting raccoons. Gamma waves for focus, memory, concentration.

The volume increases in proportion to the percentage of votes. Somewhere, in locations only visible on maps of air pollution, there, buried deep in bone caves of enriched uranium, hidden below endless landslides of micro SD chips, The Super Delegates hear these noises. They smell these charts. They groan awake.

The have not fed in four years.