Steve Bannon loves kittens, sunsets over the sea, white-supremacists, and fascism.

Oh sigh – to bring this lowly slime mold into my once pristine blog-o-space.  I apologize to the slime mold.  The slime mold has an important, critical place in the ebb and flow of time and decay.  The slime mold does a nice job for nice reasons.

Steve Bannon, as far as I can tell, is a big ball of excrement.  I imagine his presence similar to the ball of feces rolled around by the dung beetle, but large.  Much, much larger.  For example, if you took Veruca Salt when she blew up into a big purple ball, but then transferred that big purple ball of Veruca Salt as a big ball of poo right smack into the middle of my living room, stinking like all hell, and doing nothing worth anything other than mucking up the place, making a godawful mess and attracting diseases, that’d be Steve Bannon.  In my opinion.  Sorry Veruca, but I needed something for scale.

Steve Bannon snuggles up to the alt-right, which means that he empowers white supremacists and pseudo-fascists, justifies their atavistic ideologies and provides an outlet to hate speech and vile dispositions.  That’s enough for me.  I think he also devours kittens.  I mean, why not?  I’ve done enough research on him that I can’t find any reason to think otherwise.

What will emerge from this vile, stinking ball of poo that is being ushered into the White House by the pucker faced tangerine that we’ve (who us?!? not me!) elected to run this big constipated mass of dysfunction, only time will tell.  Only time will tell, but if we’re going to hire racists and fascists to tear down the Washington elite that we, apparently, so abhor, I can only imagine the festering larva that will emerge from this shit show.