Beyond the pretty leaves, there they are. Greatness. Success. Money. Fame.

Of course, all of this presupposes that you accept the herd's definitions of greatness, success, money, and fame.

The same herd that voted Donald Trump into the highest office in the land.

The same herd that rewards conformity and crushes the rebellious and the outliers who choose to live life differently, who choose not to be cattle.

The same herd that perpetuates the overarching values of suburbanism: consumerism, nihilism, solipsism, materialism, fundamentalism, and corporatism.

What is greatness? It seems to me that Suburbans couldn't possibly know. Those they call great are only those who are most visible, either on the playing field, on the stage, on the screen, and other high-profile venues.

Greatness = high visibility. Only it doesn't.

What is success? To suburbans, this equates to a big house, fancy car, wearing the newest fashions, traveling to exotic destinations, regular and positive media exposure, having a job with lots of power, and so on. In essence, and speaking generally, for suburbans lots of power = success. Only it doesn't.

What is money? To suburbans this is obvious, and I'm sure any of them reading this are snickering derisively at this point.

Let them.

But in more considered terms, money is nothing more than an exchange of energy, one that takes place between two or more interested parties concerning goods or services. That's it. Those with lots of money have more potential to participate in those exchanges. Suburbans, of course, have equated the pursuit and acquisition of money to everything important in life.

Money therefore = everything important in life, including greatness, success, and fame.

Except it doesn't.

Finally, what is fame?

Fame is what every suburban dreams of. To be idolized, glorified, sought-after, and envied. Suburbans decide who is going to be famous. Perversely, once they make that decision, they go out of their way to destroy those who have achieved it. Fame, it turns, out, is quite hazardous to your health.

Fame = a dream come true; what everyone seeks; the magical salve that makes a meaningless suburban life fruitful and worthwhile.

Except it doesn't.

In Trump's America, the Four Horsemen of Suburbanism are going to be fed steroids and unchained and lauded as the end-all be-all of human existence. There is a Fifth Horseman, as you might have guessed, and that is security. This is what drove white soccer moms to vote for Trump (over half of them did, as it turns out). They believe he will bring them security. They believe that nonsense precisely because Trump worships the Four Horsemen of greatness, money, success, and fame.

 Soccer moms, and their emasculated husbands, believe suburbia = security.

Except it doesn't.

A rude, rude awakening waits for them. For all of us.

So to you, Todd, and you, Stephanie, and to that Sarah Palin-masturbating excuse of a human being you call a husband, to you, Julie, and to you, Chris, and to you, Joe, and to you, Ann, and to you, Liz, and to you, Jennifer, and to you, Ruth, and to you—all of you who condemned me throughout my life for not drinking the Kool-Aid and giving up and giving in to the disease of suburbanism, as you wholeheartedly did, every single one of you, I can say this: your boy won. Suburbia won. Suburbanism won.

Too bad that in the process the United States didn't. Too bad that in the process the earth didn't, either. Because in the end, greatness, success, money, and fame either aren't in truth what you conceive them to be, and in fact tend to be poisonous and deadly.

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Thank you for reading!