Friday, 19 December 2025

engine, engine forty-nine (13. 014)

Finding some needed solace in the writings of Thomas Pynchon during the rise of MAGAists’ conspiracy theories in the figure of Oepida Maas, a sort of anti-John GaltBetter Living through Beowulf, now has to question like the protagonist of their own sanity whilst weaving together a plot that beggars belief, which seems a bit rudimentary in comparison to Trump’s own arc of narrative. The paranoia of The Crying of Lot 49 has a veneer of truth (see above) and so does the career-trajectory of Trump, framed as agent Krasnov, promulgated as a successful businessman now beholden to organised crime with a litany of knock-on events that lead to our present conundrum, whose nomenclature matches with Genghis Coen, Mike Falloopian, Mucho Maas (the heroine’s DJ husband) and Dr Hilarius with corresponding real-life characters unmatched nearly six decades on with corresponding Dickensian-named figures like heroes Reality Winner and villains Laura Loomer, Elon Musk or Reince Priebus and the White House lawn used as a venue for a wrestling match plus a list of dozens of other things not on ones bingo card for 2025.