Coming Soon, 'Mr. Prezident', the reality show of shows
Forget political parties, movements of various stripes and any amalgamated form of action heretofore known to early 21st century visual media--this will represent the headwaters of a thereafter increasing admixture of swirling contaminants to the former mainstream of discourse worldwide: seemingly defeated candidates, never truly having been included within the arcane constructs formerly known as Parties. And, regardless of their polymorphous platforms or ideologies, they will have one common thematic, and that is countercultural angst.
Let 2016 be known as the watershed of this endlessly polluted streaming of blather which will, whether intended or not, serve to entertain the otherwise increasingly isolated (by what we'll term the Plasmadrome), angry and addicted to their propaganda-pulsing 'smartphones' for instructions concerning what to do/think/buy/love/hate, and when to breathe. The imagery is stunning enough to elicit gratitude from the lingering spirit of Eric Blair/George Orwell for the lung disease that spared him from his literary reclassification from fiction to its opposite.
And the flagship network which will launch this open sewer of cacaphonic rage will be Mr. Trump's own, financed, as usual by licensing his brand--proudly fashioned from some rancher's still-smoldering iron cattle tattooing--to a large and stalwart mass of subscribers whose numbers will exceed those of all other 'streaming' services combined. Indeed, it'll be global, the first offshore (note the tax implications) spinoff being in Germany, home to the human donkeys upon whose hides this brand will seek to pin the tale of necessary branding as pawns of the New World HOrderves as angering appetizers for the madding crowd of subscribers happy to mutter the mantra 'told ya so'.
So, stay tuned, as every word, every move, every twitch of Mrs. Clinton, President Elect, finds its broad-cast (yep, their likely pun) counterpoints pointedly aimed at her beating heart.
Oh, yes, the sponsors are already lined up to fund the launch: Trump Stakes (c)/tm, available in finest plywood, and sharpened for application to that same beating (as in Phyrric victory) heart.
Here's a preview obtained from the show's ghost writer, a Mr. Jack Torrance:
"All twerk and noseplay makes Jerk a dual boy
All snark and cosplay makes Girl a dual toy
All dark and replay makes Don a tool's ploy
All fair and lovesay makes Trump a sump pump
All muck and no mire makes a cause base, meant for TV ratings' jump..."
We interrupt this broadcast due to technical difficulties, stay tuned.