Policrook

Yesterday’s Fear Is Boring.
Today's Fear Must Be Fresh and Mutated.

Welcome to the grim, grotesque theater of political fearmongering, where the script is ever-changing, but the plot remains the same: keep the audience scared, keep them compliant.
This is a twisted art form perfected by career politicians, designed not to enlighten but to manipulate, paralyze, and, ultimately, control the very populace that walks the thin line between naïveté and awareness.
Here’s the unvarnished truth: fear is the lifeblood of their campaigns, an infinite well from which they draw fresh, mutated horrors to serve a tremulous public.
Fearmongering is now a culinary art, akin to a Michelin-starred restaurant where the dish of the day is a hedonistic sampling of panic.
Gone are the days when a simple mention of crime rates or the economy sufficed.
Now, each politician must don the chef’s hat and concoct the freshest fear to douse the public’s appetite for anxiety like rich gravy on sad, dry turkey.
Remember the pandemic?
Last year’s “viral threat” was all the rage, but that fizzle won’t fill your vote bucket this time.
Enter the “Super Dread Variant”—a term dripping with menace, propagated like sap from a tree of lies.
Facts?
Who needs them when you can serve up a pining horror that keeps viewers glued to their screens and hearts racing?
As laughable as it sounds, yesterday's nightmares are dull and faded, and the sad truth is many politicians are all too willing to bring them back with a touch of creativity.
When the world is quiet, it doesn’t take much to stir the pot.
Just unearth old, vague insurgencies and dust off their cobwebs.
Cue the “new insurgencies,” shadowy figures lurking behind the curtain, ready to pounce at the slightest inkling of weakness.
Who really cares if the latest threat is as fictional as an old wives’ tale?
Just toss in buzzwords like "chaos" and "anarchy," transforming them into a frenetic backdrop for our latest political thriller—the kind that’s certain to leave the electorate breathless and dazed.
And let’s not kid ourselves: repackaging older crises as new threats is where the true genius—or madness—lies.
With the right spin, one can easily turn a past pandemic into the “Rage-what’s-their-name” nightmare, complete with dramatic music and ominous graphics.
We’ve entered the age of glitzy horror, where the truth is a stale piece of bread, and the narrative is an opulent feast.
Politicians are not merely participants; they are the architects of a psychological maze where every twist and turn is designed to lead back to their glittering solutions.
Facts are mundane; reality is boring.
Instead, they serve seductive lies garnished with just enough truth to make them seem credible.
Who wants to go for the plain when you can dine on the grotesque?
But behold, the pièce de résistance: each concoction of fear is not just a standalone dish but part of a greater buffet where the menu is refreshed weekly.
Who wouldn’t want to sample “seasonal fears”?
The political chef knows humanity thrives on novelty.
Give them Easter bunnies with sinister motives during Halloween and watch as they devour every minute morsel with rapt attention.
Humanity becomes a captive audience, addicted to the cycle of panic, their minds clouded with dread.
And here’s the kicker: after spinning a tale so deliciously dark, these political chefs bravely step forward as knights in peeling armor, ready to serve the antidote—policies dressed up in flashy PR spins that promise relief.
But let’s be real; those policies often have as many holes as Swiss cheese, with the hope they sell being nothing more than a placebo to numb the anxiety they manufactured in the first place.
Now, voter, here’s the lesson—all these tricks are not just cruel jokes.
They’re the playbook your chosen leader has already studied or will soon, as the system laces increasingly corrupt cycles into every level of governance.
Consider this your wake-up call: politicians craft fears not just for your attention but to keep you beholden to them, disguising their quest for power as your salvation.
All the while, they’ve infiltrated sacred institutions, replacing integrity with loyalty, systematically ensuring that the honest becomes irrelevant.
So the next time a new, intoxicating fear sprouts from your television screen, don’t simply gulp it down.
Question it.
Demand evidence.
The only thing you should fear is the insidious thrill of already falling for another round of political exploitation.