23
Sooner or later, later or sooner, a shitty day dawns. Everywhere at once. And then the human s**t and dog s**t lavishly garnishing the meadows, park paths and pavements starts to stink particularly artistically. And the shitty people get drunk on this smell, they emerge from ice holes and shitty laws are passed, shitty ideology is spread, and sometimes some s**t even surfaces in decent folk. And the country is then called Augean Stables and everybody is waiting for Hercules, the great foreign saviour. Hercules comes and causes a semi-universal flood on a certain part of the earth. But even then, after the flood, when everything is washed away, smashed, swept away by the water, people with the light of s**t sitting deep in their eyes exchange glances: “Well, wasn’t that fun?”
The futur
