Pip: gdill52 is back, and this week the site goes from national economic policy to the neuroscience of intimacy — which, honestly, is a wider range than most cable news networks manage in a full quarter.
Mara: That's the territory we're covering today — a sharp critique of trickle-down economics, and a dense, playful meditation on polyamory and peer therapy. Let's start with the money — or more precisely, who's keeping it.
Trickle-Down Economics Critique
Pip: The central argument here is that trickle-down theory was always a promise, and the poem What Trickles Down is interested in what happens when the people promising it say the quiet part loud.
Mara: The poem sets up the contradiction directly — here's the line: "he paid so very little income taxes because it is his sacred duty to himself his family his stockholders, corporately invested infesters, to pay as little tax and operating fees as legally possible so there is more to hoard, and less and less to trickle out."
Pip: So the upshot is that the ideology and the behavior are openly in conflict — the man advocating for wealth flowing downward is describing, in his own words, a system designed to stop that flow entirely.
Mara: The poem names this directly — what was sold as economic generosity becomes, in the poem's phrase, "The Upper Caste Constipated minimal trickling out of capital hoarding." That's not a policy critique dressed up as poetry; that's the policy critique stated as plainly as it gets.
Pip: And the ending earns its disgust — the "humble caregivers opening your golden ballroom doors for tips and cleaning your several stressed toilets, where yellow and brown too slowly trickle down." The metaphor completes itself, and it does not flatter anyone.
Mara: What the poem is really doing is holding the stated theory against the revealed preference — and finding that the theory was always cover for the preference.
Pip: From tax policy to something considerably harder to summarize — the next piece asks what therapy looks like when the framework is entirely its own.
Polyamory And Peer Support
Mara: Polyamorous Peer Therapy arrives as a dialogue — one voice offering an elaborate, systems-theory-inflected vision of healing, the other gently noting they are not, in fact, into talk therapy.
Pip: The offering voice goes deep fast: "PolyAmorous Squared/Fractal cobinary remembering ontological neural landscapes reproducing therapeutic design with glial-indigenous peak communication climates of bilateral egoCrown/ecoRoot polyamorous therapy."
Mara: What this means in practice is that one speaker is building a complete cosmology — Yang, Yin, glial networks, fractal patterns, win-win game theory — and the other speaker's response is essentially: we prefer the sound of the ocean.
Pip: The gap between those two positions is where the poem lives, and it is a genuinely funny gap.
Mara: The piece ends with the elaborate-theory speaker losing their audience entirely — "Oops, I think I lost them" — and the closing exchange, "Don't talk dirty, dear. Unless you mean it," lands as the warmest possible punctuation on the whole construction.
Pip: It's a poem about connection that enacts the difficulty of connection — which is either very clever or exactly what you'd expect from something titled Polyamorous Peer Therapy.
Mara: Two very different registers — political anger and intimate comedy — but both are interested in the same question: what actually gets shared between people, and what gets held back.
Pip: Next time, we find out what else is on the site. Hopefully something about infrastructure, just for the range.
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