America is the queen bee, bloated and pregnant,

laying eggs in the shape of dollars. When the honeycomb is full, then it’s time to expand the line and found new colonies. Bred on royal jelly and raised on traffic jams, she only leaves the hives in swarms, for maximum protection. America thinks she rules the world, but in fact the world rules her. When she’s outlived her usefulness, the worker bees of the world will abandon her like a sinking ship, and find another frisky cow with big tits and big attitude and big hair. The workers win by default, but only as a historical group. Individually they live and die with the frequency of sunrise, constantly occurring at all times somewhere in the world. America is a concept, a role model, playing the role of empire for the sake of history. It’s nasty work, but somebody’s got to do it. If America did not exist, it would be necessary to create it, a bloated self-assured queen bee kept fed and fucked for common benefit, laying the eggs that the rest of the world needs to pay their bills. When the rest of the world doesn’t need her any more, then they’ll start investing elsewhere. They’ll stuff a new lowly commoner with royal jelly until she lets it go to her head and starts acting like a queen, throwing her weight around and printing money that the rest of us can speculate on.