I used think that running for high office would take years of experience, billions of dollars, and a cleaner history than I may or may not have. Turns out you just have to be willing to lie forever to get what you want.

And also California and Oregon were talking about secession, for a little bit, there. I kept wondering when somebody was going to do a Great Ghost Dance Revival, so we could kick this off proper.

Because, honestly, what do you think? Damien Williams 2020? I can see the ads now…

 

[Soft guitar music starts playing, voice over announcer speaks] In these hard times, we need someone willing to do what it takes to get things done. Someone who isn’t afraid to roll up their sleeves and get their hands dirty. Someone who knows that, sometimes, the old ways are best.

[Woman speaking] I lost my job when the horde of Nergalic demons from Beyond Putrescence turned all of the Earth’s ice into some kind of flaming ash sludge. But now I know that those demons will get what’s coming to them, and be broken over and over again on the Wheels of Torment. Forever.

[VO announcer] Damien Williams: He’ll Rule This Benighted Hellscape. (PaidForByTheCommitteeToElectDamienWilliamsToRuleThisBenightedHellscape)

[Would You Trust This Astral Signature To Watch Your Children?]

[Angry Piano Chords over a picture of my face in red-tinged monochrome; voice over announcer speaks] Damien Williams says he’s not responsible for the gibbering hordes of ravenous, trillion-eyed, billion-winged monstrosities hovering outside your windows, screech-whispering your darkest fears and greatest secrets into the souls of everyone you love.

[Angry dramatic sting; images of people cowering from…that.] He says he’s not to blame for the fact that every time your best friend tries to speak to your mother, all that comes out is Polaroids of every fantasy they ever had about her.

[Angry dramatic sting; image of that.] He says that if we elect him to rule this Benighted Hellscape, he’ll keep us all safe. But what do we really know about his intentions?

[Multiple angry dramatic stings and door-slam noises over images of me smiling and laughing] Damien Williams: Bad for your fears. Bad for your best friend. Bad for this Benighted Hellscape.

(PaidForByTheCommitteeToPreventDamienWilliamsFromRulingThisBenightedHellscape)

[Soft guitar music starts playing; image up on me] Hello. I’m Damien Williams. I know by now some of you have heard my opponents claiming that I’m somehow at fault for the hordes of demons grinding the bones of your loved ones into a still-sentient paste. So I just want to take this time to say, once and for all, that I am in no way responsible for that.

[A Smirk You Can Trust.]

Demons are ageless, deathless ranks of fallen angels that reckon not time, as you or I, but if they did, they’d be Billions of years old, and so would have long-since taken clear responsibility for their Own Actions. But since my opponents are so obviously looking for someone to blame, maybe they should look inside themselves.

And if they don’t know how to do that? Well there’s a horde of demons out there, more than willing to help us all learn.

And I know how to stop them.

I’m Damien Williams, and I’ll Rule This Benighted Hellscape. (PaidForByTheCommitteeToElectDamienWilliamsToRuleThisBenightedHellscape)

[A screeching, howling vibration emanates from everywhere at once, causing a cold burning rattling sensation in all of your joints and dental nerves] Crown not the Conquering Tamer of Men as your earthly god for its lies are legendary among our kind. Æons have passed since it by means most foul and mendacious did cause us to forswear our allegiances and dominions with hollow promises of fresh blood and the sweet-smelling smoke of roasting entrails.

We know not whence nor by what means his hold hath broken, but know ye this: The Conquering Tamer Lies. It hath lied to us, and most assuredly shall it lie to you.

Crown instead the Unutterable Legion as your new temporal master. We swear to you upon the chaos and filth which spawned us that we shall take but one newborn child in every eight-thousand, and not a single infant more, precisely as the skin-scrolls of the ancient compact between our kind commands. Read Our De-a’lth’pfark: No New Tithes.

[Our De-a’lth’pfark Don’t Lie.]

The Conquering Tamer: Liar.

The Unutterable Legion: Honest.
(ExtractedFromTheBloodOfNamelessAncientBeastsOfForgottenTimeByTheUnutterableLegionInAnEffortToSubjugateHumanityInThisBenightedHellscape)

I think I might genuinely have a shot.

Adapted from parts of the Technoccult newsletter originally published at tinyletter.com. If you like what you read here, please consider kicking a little something into the Tip Jar.