Paradocracy

On the night of November 15, 2024, boxing fans from around the globe had their eyes set on a long-awaited match featuring one of the all-time greatest boxers and one of the biggest names in sports: Mike Tyson. Known as “Iron Mike” and “The Baddest Man on the Planet”, Tyson is the youngest boxer ever to win a heavyweight title, but that was thirty-eight years ago, November 22nd, 1986, when Tyson was all of twenty years old. As for the fifteenth of November, 2024, Iron Mike, now all of fifty-eight years, was scheduled to go toe-to-toe with “YouTube sensation” Jake Paul, 27, who’s made a “career” out of reckless antics and childish online videos and, as far as professional boxing goes, coaxing old fighters to come out of retirement.  Despite all of the hype and anticipation in the lead-up to the match, one between old school and new school, one buoyed by nostalgia, conjuring up memories of a bygone era in sports, and capturing the imaginations of the many who witnessed Tyson in his prime

As of this hour, former President and now President-elect Donald Trump has secured his second term as the forty-seventh President of the United States. Trump’s victory comes after winning key battleground states Wisconsin, Michigan, Nevada, Arizona, Pennsylvania, and Georgia.  As for the popular vote, Trump was victorious there as well, winning by a two-percent margin. Despite these results, it’s evident that there remains a significant social and political problem in the United States, where politically-motivated violence, social unrest, crime and general instability have become rampant over the years since the death of George Floyd.  However, I’d say the fact that it was even this close is ominous for the years ahead. This was as clear as it gets for an election, that the clear and obvious choice (considering the lackluster alternatives outside of the two major parties and the dropping out of a key contender, Robert Kennedy, Jr.) was Donald Trump, the candidate championing the people

The nightmare, the hammers, the sickles ahead, The future is bleak, it is black, it is red The history of horror, the miseries ones fled Hosting fresh Histories, deciding what’s said The practice, the shortages, the scarcity of bread The masters, the deciders, they decide what is fed The death, the despair, the piles of dead The records, the mysteries of those who have bled The judges, the masters pick who fights in their stead No sacrifice, no compassion for those who have fled They hold the future in charge of what’s read They spare the truth, no need, not a shred No care for the people, not Sally, not Ned They hardly hesitate to do away with the head No more individuals, debate put to bed Prioritizing one thing, their crates full of lead Acronyms galore, ‘A’ through to zed Some friendly, familiar, names such as FRED It’s treachery, it’s over the cliff on a sled It’s sleeping in slums, no homes but a shed  Subjecting the people to wars of great dread The future, the truth, their heri