Google Images... Artist: Ian Joyner
Victor Lockhart is one of the most powerful men in America... The world, for that matter. He's President and CEO of one of the largest media conglomerates, on the board of directors of many of the world's biggest mega-corporations, be it in oil, media, pharmaceuticals...
Lockhart eschews the rough and tumble world of politics, viewing it as beneath him... he much prefers to own politicians. His favorite saying (his own) is that "a politician is only as good as the people who pay to get him elected." That was usually Lockhart and his cronies. Some say that he is owned by the big European banks and Wall St... others say he owns them.
His great-grandfather had been a carnival barker, snake oil salesman, gold miner (although it was said he did more claim-jumping than actual mining) and a jack-of-all trades and master of disreputable behavior that had amassed him a fortune by the time he was 50. The son of poor Scottish immigrants, Angus Lockhart had determined early in life that he would not suffer the same fate as his parents.
Today, Victor Lockhart had a meeting with an upstart presidential candidate who had just won his party's nomination. Lockhart was no fool when it came to politics and invariably supported both candidates, favoring one above the other. He had met with the other candidate a week or so earlier, an unimaginative man that Lockhart found personally distasteful. Today it was Denning...
I'm not going to waste your time or mine," he said, "so I'll come right to the point... How bad do you want to be president?"
"You do get right to the point," Denning answered back, "I like that. But, isn't that up to those people out there?" Denning waved his hand indicating the expanse of New York City outside the window on the top floor of a Manhattan skyscraper.
"No son," Lockhart laughed, "presidents aren't elected, they're chosen. Chosen by people like me and those I represent. I just asked you here to determine if you can do us any good- if you're the type that will play ball. So let's not bullshit each other... we can stand here and blow smoke up each other's ass all day long and get nowhere. Let's just say, I know you a lot better than you think and I got one question... Are you my friend?" He looked at Denning for a reaction- there was none. This guy's pretty good, he thought. He might be useful after all.
"While we're understanding one another... What if I get elected and decide not to play ball?" Denning looked hard at the older man.
"Oh, that's been tried before," Lockhart laughed dryily. "I'm sure you remember John Kennedy... and he was by no means the first. Look Denning, you're a dangerous man. You know it, I know it... But so am I- we. At this point, you're more of a danger to yourself than you are to us." Lockhart was serious... there was none of the joviality left. When he looked at Denning it was as though he was looking straight through him- it was a bit unnerving, but Denning didn't flinch. Another point in his favor.
"What do you mean?" Denning asked.
"You're evil," Lockhart said with a smirk. "You know it- I know it. But your evil is directed inward. It has no purpose other than self-fulfillment- selfishness. It serves no higher purpose... nothing can ever come of it."
"I'm doing alright so far," Denning said. "And who, or what do you serve?"
"I couldn't begin to explain," Lockhart went on, "The Ancient Ones will do if you need a name."
Denning laughed derisively... "You're Satan worshippers?"
"Why do you need a name- there are no names, only causes, sides, if you want. This is about what can be achieved... what is possible... about what ultimate good can come from it all."
"Good?" Denning was genuinely surprised. "You're trying to tell me you're the good guys? Good is evil and evil is good?"
What is evil and what is good? Look at all those people down there." Lockhart said waving his hand inclusively at the people below. "Who do they serve? They all think they're good, worshipping some God they can't see... Some imaginary guy sitting on a throne in the sky that loves them all... Loves them and all their misery."
"Who do you worship?" Lockhart could tell Denning was getting interested.
"We worship what is possible... the ones that have been pulling the strings all along. While all those 'good' people are busy destroying OUR planet with overpopulation, pollution, what have you... At least we're working toward a goal."
"Domination?" Denning asked.
"A better world... One we've been working to build for millennia- building, shaping, moulding," shouted Lockhart. "Look at the out there- niggers, wetbacks, kikes, wops, gooks, a genetic cesspool... all fighting- fighting for scraps from our table and destroying everything we've spent millennia to build. Semi-useful idiots," he went on. "Queers marching around in leather jockstraps demanding 'rights' when all they really want is little kids. Hiseous fat lesbians with purple hair screaming about their vaginas- as if anyone would want them in the first place... They serve a purpose, I suppose- they call the tune, we just provide the music. Sooner or later, they'll all destroy themselves and we'll be there to pick up the pieces."
"With a little help from you," Denning grinned.
"Us, my boy, Us." Lockhart was smiling too. This self-absorbed asshole was beginning to catch on. he might prove useful after all.
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