Likabehandlingsplan: A Toast to Sweden’s Future with Cyanide - sample
The zombie state
Terrifying and compulsive, this most fascinating phenomenon which empties the box of hyperboles; a nation state utterly surrenders itself and abandons a blessed future for hubris masquerading as social justice.
This collection considers (with lighter scenes as a pause for hyperventilation) what happens when the desire to be good, to be seen as compassionate, to do the right thing for all the unfortunate others in the world becomes a self-destroying orthodoxy.
Farewell, Du gamla, Du fria. I’ll see you on the other side, cleaning out Valhalla’s pigsties!
The Night Watch
Wearing the uniform, or whatever...
Neither bold nor wary
public guardians going in threes
the better to take good
care of themselves
chewing gum, texting, chatting
foot up against the door
lout-style, the esprit de corps
of our night watch officers
making the infamous
Bold Gendarmes almost
seem like bold gendarmes
these neds with dirty boots
pepper spray, stab-proof vests
on public money doing
nothing but representing
the principle far in excess
of public safety, their purported
and pretended purpose, when
spotting some real louts
(MENA, surprised?) getting on
they suddenly collectively
needed a mocha and pastry
and made a dash for the
platform the doors closing on
so staggeringly a bold display
of cowardice that it becomes
an incentive to behave bad
for those in two minds about it,
which our new fellow travellers
instantly confirm never were
anyway, taking stylistic cues
from the degenerate template
provided at commune expense.
What public purpose is served
by this perfect expression of less
than useless you might think;
but then the realisation
of the diabolical genius in
the social vision built of
self-hatred and anomie contained
in the tableau viewed as the train
pulled away, one at the booth
ordering the coffees the other
busy texting and the last
stretched out on a bench, no doubt
exhausted from various forms
of loafing, already ear-phoned and
all utterly invisible to the public
except as a too visible
manifestation of the surrender
of public space to those who would
want it for sport and mischief
but policing in full measure
the guilt found in the quotas
and ticking all the boxes back
at the station at shift’s end
in harmony to the internal hysteria
of the country as it gives itself away
in a kind of collective suicide
but being Sweden, ever so quietly.
Meanwhile, for us incarcerated
for another stop, the louts
upped the ante in the game
of ‘stop me if you dare’ and for
protection I imagined another watch
and see Captain Cocq stepping
out of the painting:
I‘ll show the Zweeds how it’s done.
Arquebusiers, prepare your pieces.
Pikemen, follow me,...
Gentlemen, let us restore our good name.
Fellow Citizens, be not alarmed!