Oblation and Obloquy

Strictly speaking I’m not saying what you think I’m talking about. You’ve got your facts correct but your theme is enjambed with my leitmotif. I’m schooling you with malevolence, and secretions waiting, in sketchy, skittery, and toothsome fashion. I’m chomping and slavering, and you seem to be missing that fact. I’m a bad mood guy. Drop your Sharpie. Don’t bring that reductive redaction act my way. I will smite you, askance of oblation, in obloquy. It won’t cost you more than a thorough humiliation in front of Carmelite nuns. But as you’ve run short of Thirteenth Century crusades, and your words dissipate before they form in the back of your throat, and you claim to need more encouragement … here, come here, step closer to this open window I have something I’d like to show you.

“They’ll declare America a carnage. They’ll call immigrants ‘animals’ and other countries ‘shitholes.’ They call themselves ‘nationalists.’ They’ll say they can make America great again. Their history will be a fiction. They will say that they alone love this country. They will be wrong.”

— Jill Lepore / This America: The Case for the Nation