Neither Huxleyed, nor Orwelled: living in the Phildickian dystopia

boing
8

I think we’re in a Brunnerian dystopia, myself.

The hungry Sheep look up, and are not fed,
But swoln with wind, and the rank mist they draw,
Rot inwardly, and foul contagion spread.

The next Prexy will fix everything, you betcha.

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