Saturday, October 30, 2004
World News Briefs From The Washington Times
WMDs Found in Iraq!
Iraqi witness willing to testify that Saddam Hussein was planning to develop hydrogen bug bomb
The CIA has discovered vast stockpiles of WMD-related activities in Iraq, including Iraqi cockroaches loyal to the US occupation willing to testify that Saddam Hussein was definitely planning at some future date to develop a hydrogen bug bomb capable of destroying millions of mantids at the press of a single button. French and Russian fish scientists have also been found to be no longer in Iraq working on the hydrogen bug bomb, which US intelligence now says offers "strong circumstantial evidence" for Iraqi WMDs.
Catsup Linked to Terrorism
Bin Laden's latest video, shown on Al Jazeera
Interrogation of terrorist detainees in Guantanamo Bay has now established that all of them eat catsup, and are particularly fond of Heinz catsup, "the slowest catsup in the West." After months of torture, including sexual humiliation, rotten fish gut smearings, and extended exposure to Jerry Falwell and Pat Robertson sermons, several detainees have confirmed that Osama bin Laden is a big catsup eater, and will not eat curly fries without large bowls of Heinz catsup to dip them in. Bin Laden also keeps fish in an aquarium, the same torture sessions revealed, and hates bugs.
Vice President Kerry Linked to Kennedy Assassination
Absolutely undoctored image showing a young John Kerry peeking at Lee Harvey Oswald off Oswald's front porch
Michael Paine, cousin of Lincoln VP John Kerry, was a close friend of Lee Harvey Oswald, who in November 1963 killed President John F. Kennedy, acting alone, with no connection whatsoever to mantid conspiracies or ex-President George H. W. Bush, who did not make a phone call to Dallas FBI from Dallas the day of the assassination predicting that a University of Houston student named James Parrott was going to try and kill the president. Paine not only frequently had the lone assassin as a house guest, but stored the rifle Oswald used to shoot Kennedy (with no help from gunmen on any grassy knoll) in his house. Paine's sister-in-law and father-in-law were also closely connected with the CIA, which however played no role in the assassination, which was Oswald's own crazy idea and carried out by him alone, possibly with the foreknowledge and even assistance of Kerry's cousin, who may have told Kerry (then 19) something about it too.
Lincoln Girlfriend Cher Laughed At
President Lincoln and his girlfriend Cher, posing for paparazzi outside Washington's VIP Club
Test audiences laughed so hard at Cher's title song for the remake of "Alfie" that producers have rerecorded it, using British cricket singer Joss Stone. It is speculated in some circles that Cher, who sang the song for the original "Alfie" in 1966, has gratuitously thrown her career to the fishes by shacking up with usurper president Abraham Lincoln, who took over the United States in a bloodless fish-drenched coup two weeks ago.
The Washington Times Found To Be "Independent" and "Objective"
Their Most Holy Deities Father, Mother, and Mantis Moon
A commission appointed by Washington Times owner and publisher the Reverend Sun Myung Moon has unanimously declared the paper to be America's most "independent" and "objective" news source. Fox News Channel, owned by Australian mogul Rupert Murdoch, ran a close second.
Friday, October 29, 2004
Explain It Again!
"Explain it again, Laura," George says, the famous bewilderment coming over his famous face. Laura, of course, has lived with it for close to a quarter century. It isn't famous to her. To her it's a target, a bag that she has to keep telling herself not to punch.
"They're still the same God," she says, forcing a smile onto her face and a note of cheerful patience into her voice. "They're just running on different tickets."
"I still don't get it," George says. "That would be like Dick and me running on different tickets."
"Not exactly," Laura says. "You and Dick aren't the same person." And she can't help it: her eyes stray for just one moment into his lap, where the limp thing lies that hasn't been a part of George's person in well over a decade. Not that she misses it that much--she's a good Christian middle-aged woman, certainly no sex-starved teenager with hormones raging and morals in the gutter--but, you know, sometimes ...
"Oh," George says, "I think I get it. Yahweh and His Son Jesus Christ are on the same team but they're playing in different leagues. Sorta like off-season ball."
"That's one way of thinking about it," Laura says.
"So what you're saying," George says, "is that it don't really matter which one of em I vote for, I'm still voting for my Guy."
"I think that's right, George," Laura says absently, her thoughts wandering. They've been at this absentee ballot for hours now. She has excellent concentration, unlike some people she could name--quick irritable glance over at George, again--but enough is enough.
"Okay," he says. "I think I'm ready to punch it now." And he does, hands it over to Laura triumphantly.
"But George," she says. "Did you really mean to vote for Blattodea?"
"Do what?" he says.
"You voted for Blattodea," she says.
"No I didn't," he says. "I voted for Yahweh. The Big Man! My Guy."
"No," she says, "you voted for Blattodea. See? You lined Yahweh up with the wrong hole."
"Hell, that's okay," he grins. "That's how I got elected in 2000! Maybe it'll be lucky for Yahweh this time around too!"
"I don't think so," Laura says. "This time it's going to be lucky for Blattodea. See here? Look how the ballot is set up so the less, um, attentive voters will think they're voting for Jesus or Yahweh but will actually vote for Blattodea."
"That Rove," George chuckles, shaking his head a little. "You gotta hand it to him!"
"What," Laura says, "you think Karl's behind this?"
"Who else?" George says. "He was always telling me what a great god Blattodea would be."
"B-but," Laura says, and to her great surprise, her lip trembles a little, the corners of her eyes feel hot, "Karl is dead. Poor man, what he suffered: first turned into--that thing, then a carnivorous plant ... then cut down in his prime by Jerry Falwell with a machete ..." And now she bursts into tears and runs from the room, face buried in her hands.
What the fuck? George thinks, grinning after her. Oh, well, he thinks: women! Think I'll go have a beer.
And he does.
"I'm sorry, sir," the Marine says, politely but with an edge of menace, "but no one enters the White House without emptying his pockets."
"I'm not no one!" Yahweh shouts. "I'm God! You got that? God!"
"Uh huh," the Marine says. "What, they had the election five days early?"
"Stupid fucking election!" Yahweh bellows at the ceiling. "Look, put it this way. Lemme in before I huff and I puff and--"
"Oh," the Marine says, his eyes going wide, "you're a wolf?"
"Whatever," Yahweh says, "if it'll get me into this stupid house."
Suddenly all four Marines guarding the door draw their guns, train them nervously on Yahweh.
"Down on the floor, scumbag! Now!"
Yahweh is just drawing himself to his full 5'6" to start throwing thunderbolts when President Lincoln himself comes into the entryway.
"What's going on here, boys?"
"Step back, Mr. President!" one of the Marines shouts. "He's a terrorist!"
"At ease, boys," Lincoln chuckles. "That ain't no terrorist. That there's Yahweh. He and I go way back."
"Sir," the Marine says, rather more uncertainly, "I don't think--"
"No need to think, son," Lincoln cuts in smoothly, "I'm here to do the thinking for you. Lower your guns, all of you. That's a direct order."
All four Marines lower their guns. Lincoln claps a lanky arm around Yahweh's shoulders and leads him into the White House. "Long time no see, Yah," he says. "Where've you been keeping yourself? Up in that heaven of yours, I expect? Grilling ribs?"
"Got talked into this stupid election," Yahweh grumbles.
"Oh, right, right," Lincoln says. "The deity election. I see those signs everywhere. What a nuisance!"
"Tell me about it," Yahweh says, rolling his eyes.
"So," Lincoln says, "what brings you to Washington? Can't be the weather. Or the architecture. Or the culture. Hey, you wanna meet my girlfriend?"
"Later," Yahweh says. "I want one of your guys."
"One of my guys?" Lincoln says.
"Yeah. Doug Robinson. He's here, ain't he?"
"Fucking Bill Kaul," Yahweh says, steaming a little out of his ears. "I knew that fucker was lying."
"Lying?" Lincoln says.
"Fucker sent me on some wild goose chase down to Mississippi. Society of Dead Jesus Agency Talent my ass. I'm gonna fucking roast that fucker for my breakfast."
"Doug Robinson's my Literary Critic. Has been since practically the day I took over."
"Yeah well I need him."
"Yeah well you can't have him."
"Look, Lincoln, do you want Me to smite you?"
"Sure," Lincoln smiles. "Remember what happened last time you tried."
Yahweh gives him a sour look. "Shit," he says.
"Hey," Lincoln says, "maybe you should give it a shot. You never know. I could have gotten waterlogged, living down there at the bottom of that lake. Coulda slowed me up some. You might take me this time."
"No, no," Yahweh mumbles, looking down at His feet.
"Hey, come on in for a moment, meet my girlfriend," Lincoln says.
"Naw, I gotta run," Yahweh says. "I need to find me a campaign manager."
"You'll never guess who I'm sleeping with," Lincoln says.
"John Wilkes Booth?" Yahweh guesses.
"Cher," Lincoln says, trying to be cool about it.
Yahweh's eyes go wide. "You have got to be shitting me," he says.
"Come on in," Lincoln says. "I'll introduce you."
"Do you think she'd give me an autograph?" Yahweh says. "I loved her in Moonstruck! And that voice!" He breaks into a croaky tone-deaf rendition of "Gypsies, Tramps and Thieves."
"My God, Abe, they're singing my song," says Cher as she steps brightly into the room. Yahweh strangles his song mid-tramp, gulps, gulps again, looks at her speechless. "Who's your star-struck friend, hon?"
Thursday, October 28, 2004
Some Advice for the Campaign
Oh, so you’re not the reporter who misquoted me?
No, no. Heavens no. That would have been Kill Ba’al, the reporter for the Flaming Gorge of Death Daily. Folks get us mixed up all the time.
Hum. So where do I find this Kill Ba’al?
If I tell You, will You let go of my uvula? It’s kinda hard to talk like this.
Oh, yeah. Sorry. I’m just a little pissed off right now. I’m not usually like this.
Yeah, sure. It must be tough having your own family running against you. Especially when Your Son is outed like that.
Do I have to slap you down again? You like the taste of ashes? That sackcloth nice and comfy? My Son’s not a fag!
Whoaaa, big Fella. Wouldn’t matter to me if he was queer. Whatever works for Him, You know. You know I’ve always worshipped You. Never took much stock in those others. Not me, nope.
Yeah, right. Word in the book is, you’re a godless socialist. I checked before I came down.
Lies. Lies told by lying liars.
Are you calling my spies—er, I mean, angels, liars?
Listen. You want to win this election?
Then here’s what You do. No, no, listen to me a minute. Calm down. Christ, you’re a bundle of nerves. Look. You’re new at this. You’ve never been in an election before, right?
Well of course not.
So, what You need is an expert. A campaign manager who knows what he’s doing. You want the best, because only the best is good enough for the Holy One, Blessed Be He.
Right. I guess. You mean, someone who can run this campaign.
Riiiigghht. Someone who knows the ropes. Someone who can sway public opinion.
You know someone like that?
Goebbels. Joseph Goebbels.
That’s a familiar name. Where have I heard that? Maybe in some supplications a few years ago?
Maybe. But listen. I hear he’s available.
How do I get him? How much will it cost? This campaign is killing my treasury.
You need to see a guy named Robinson. Doug Robinson. He’s Goebbels’ manager. Manages a lot of famous dead people.
Robinson? That name’s familiar, too. Isn’t he a Franciscan monk? Or is he a Jesuit?
Oh, definitely a Jesuit. Right. Runs the Society of Jesus Dead Talent Agency, out of his home office. Yeah. Here’s his address.
Thanks, I appreciate that. Saves me the trouble of calling my office.
Look, no hard feelings, then. I’m gonna give you back your sheep and your health and, heck—I’ll even throw in a coupla tickets to the Springsteen concert.
You’re the best, man. The best. You can count on my vote.
I'm Hera, and I Approve this Message
VOTE HERA for a BETTER FUTURE!
Hi, everyone. My name is Hera, and I'm running for God. Here you see me relaxing on Olympus in my skin and bones. This is just a taste of what's to come if you vote for me. Wait until you see me in shimmering robes, with a 24-inch vibrator in my hands!
Don't you think it's time to elect a God who can look good in ANYTHING, instead of some dried-up, bearded old man with no sense of humor? Or a skinny effeminate kid with acne and family problems? Or a bitter old Lesbian? Think about it!
Vote for Hera--cockroaches for everybody!
A VOTE FOR BA'AL IS A VOTE FOR YOUR PARTY!
(Damascus, Syria) (MBS) Ba'al, the candidate for God of the Heathen Party, today announced His new campaign slogan, "PARTY ON, DUDES!" A crowd here in Damascus was not receptive, noting that Ba'al had not been in the god business for over 2,500 years and the largely Muslim audience could not trust him.
"What's He got that Allah doesn't have?" a street vendor told this reporter. "A lot of smoke, if you ask me," said another.
"If Ba'al was going to be God, He should have been more active than He has. It's way too late for a comeback. Even that old fart, Yahweh, has more experience lately, and a lot more followers. Although Allah is making strides, too," said a spokesperson for the Syrian government, who asked not to be named.
Ba'al Himself declined comment, simply saying after his announcement, "Let's blow this town. I hear there are some good-looking women and some fresh pear brandy over in Jaffa."
From the Campaign Trail
The dangerous liberals over at =CoffeeHouseStudio= have posted this sketch by Rainbow Demon of Ba'al recovering from a hard night campaigning early this week. Be forewarned, though: Rainbow Demon does seem to be quite demonic in his support for Lincoln-loving Rainbow Coalition faggots, dykes, and tunas. I'm guessing, in fact, that Rainbow Demon took his name from this demonic pagan Canaanite god, for whose worship the Israelites (under Aaron's misguided leadership) made the Golden Calf in the Exodus. From the looks of the sketch, Ba'al has just had violent anal sex with the artist, whose inner rainbows are looking a bit kaleidoscopic in the drawing.
Holy Family Campaign Tactics Turn Vicious
Jesus Christ in the waiting room at Elizabeth Arden
The Vatican, Rome (UPI) -- The Holy Family's tempers flared publicly today as the media seized hold of Israeli desert God Yahweh's alleged "outing" of His Son Jesus Christ yesterday.
Mary, Yahweh's ex-girlfriend and the Holy (though unmarried) Mother of Jesus, confessed tearfully to reporters today that she never would have thought the God of ancient Israel would go and do something as--in her words--"cheap and tawdry" as this.
"How could He make a wild, hurtful, and totally untrue accusation like that, in front of the media and everybody? How can He call my sweet little Boy a fairy? How can He suggest that our Love Child, now a 2004-year-old grown Godling in His own right, would prefer to put His thing in the vile smelly hairy buttocks of another man instead of the warm soft honeypot of a nice Jewish girl?
"The only thing I can conclude," Mary added sadly, "is that the God I knew--in the Biblical sense--back in Palestine is not a good man."
The young Son of God himself, Jesus Christ, whom some identify as the Messiah prophesied in the Hebrew Bible--an identification that will, of course, be decided once and for all in next Tuesday's election--denied His Father in Heaven's charges indignantly.
"I most certainly am not gay," he said, "and it is simply beyond belief to me that Dad could lay this kind of heavy rap on me now, of all times. Clearly he is a God who will say and do anything in order to get elected. And I am not speaking just as a Son here, though a pretty angry Son, but as a citizen."
Jesus added that Yahweh had never considered Him "man" enough to be God anyway. "He was always ragging on me about My message of love and forgiveness," Jesus explained. "And He just plain hated the fact that I used facial conditioners and toners, and slept in moisturizing gloves. Apparently a desert God of His generation wasn't supposed to take care of His skin. But bubble baths and aromatherapy soy votives do not make a God gay! I mean, come on, wasn't He the One Who said cleanliness is next to godliness?"
When asked to comment on the media furore over his remarks, Yahweh snorted irritably. "I never said the Kid was gay," he said. "That media puke Bill Kaul misquoted Me. My Word was taken out of context. I never uttered a faggy Word in my life, and my Son ain't no fudge-packer neither, even if he is a big liberal pussy that would rather help a blind crippled cockroach across the road than smite a sinner."
"If anybody's gay in My Family," Yahweh added, "it isn't my pantywaist milquetoast of a Son, the shmendrick, but His radical lesbo Mother, Mary herself. Why do you think all those nuns love her so much? Okay, okay, I know, she's being who she is, she's being who she was born as, sure. I'm just sayin."
Yahweh left with one final parting shot at the reporter who broke the story: "Bill Kaul better watch his ass, is all's I'm saying. That f**ker blew chunks on my cookout up in heaven last week and I didn't say nothin. But a long-haired sheep-farmin hippie who goes around putting faggy Words in My mouth about my Son being a poofter better lock his door at night, if you know what I mean, not that a locked door is going to stop the Creator of the Universe. You hear Me, Kaul? I know where you live, you f**ker."
Yahweh did not retract his surprising flipflop support for gay civil unions, revealed in yesterday morning's interview with Charlie Gibson on ABC's Good Morning America.
Wednesday, October 27, 2004
Mud is Slung and Reslung
(Columbus, OH) (MNS) Seeking to turn His conservative base back to His camp, now reported to be defecting heavily in favor of Jesus, Yahweh today made some startling allegations against His Son during a rally at the First Church of the Smoking Hell today here in Columbus. Ohio is widely regarded as an important state for Yahweh to win in the global elections for Ruler of Heaven and Earth.
“Jesus says He remains firmly against gay marriage, but I ask you to consider this. Has He ever been married? Has He ever had a girlfriend? Does He even hang out with girls? No, no and no. His only companions have been twelve guys in robes. Sound hetero to you? I didn’t think so!” Yahweh thundered to the crowd, who sat in stunned silence. “By coming out in favor of gay marriage, I am merely trying to make it possible for the poor kid to finally settle down with a partner He can really love, if you know what I mean.”
Yahweh travels this afternoon to Paris and Madrid for campaign stops.
With France and Spain in a state of uproar over the disintegration of the Holy Trinity, these nations are also now regarded widely as up for grabs. Visiting Lourdes, France, last week, Mary lashed out at allegations against her by Allah, made during His visit to the Alhambra last Monday.
“He says that a female can’t run Heaven and Earth. That’s what He says. Well, I got news for You, camel bait, this girl is ready to go the distance! And it’s odd, isn’t it, that You, Mr. Allah, seem so afraid of women. What have you got to hide? Could it be that the rumors about your Mother are true?”
A spokesperson for Allah replied shortly after, noting that “The All-Merciful, in His Infinite Grace, has no Mother, and is certainly not afraid of women. He is merely concerned that certain decisions could be made by Mary during Her menses, that might, well, be ill-informed. Such things are not unheard of in history.”
Yahweh Flipflops on Gay Civil Unions
Yahweh's latest campaign poster, found on a River Oaks front lawn, Houston
Washington, DC (AP) -- Judeo-Christian deity Yahweh, once the proud supporter of His Son Jesus Christ, His Girlfriend Mary Mother of God, and His Strong Leader George W. Bush, has come out in favor of gay civil unions.
The surprising flipflop from this Tireless Gay-Basher and Scourge of Deviant Lifestyles came Tuesday morning on the popular morning television show Good Morning America, where Yahweh told host Charles Gibson that the federal government has no business interfering with states' rights on this issue.
Gibson, for a moment speechless at this revelation, asked whether this meant Yahweh was withdrawing support from the Million Mantid March, currently converging on Washington in a bug-infested attempt to retake the White House from our great president Abraham Lincoln. The Judeo-Christian deity nodded enthusiastically: "Absolutely," He said. "Those f**king bugs can swarm without Me. Just call Me the Raid candidate."
Yahweh's desperate last-minute flipflop, an unlikely bid to capture the gay and lesbian vote that is much more likely to alienate the deity's heartlands base among swarming Christian voters, is all the more surprising given His appearance Monday evening at a rally for anti-gay crusader Rep. Marilyn Musgrave, author of the so-called Musgrave amendment that would block states' rights to legalize gay marriages or civil unions and herself an American cockroach (periplaneta americana).
At that rally, with the roaches and crickets swarming over His ancient leathery head and body, Yahweh firmly declared His support for Musgrave and "good decent mantids everywhere," vowing to "protect marriage and family, which are the foundations of our society."
Analysts suspect Yahweh is no longer in control of the host body--that, some time Monday night or early Tuesday morning, the Yahweh host was taken over by liberal minnows or guppies supporting President Lincoln. But of course all such speculations are premature; we will be posting hourly updates on this remarkable new development in the deity election. Check back often!
Blattodea Campaign Sign
Tuesday, October 26, 2004
New Plague Spread by Glowing Bugs
Atlanta (AP) -- Newly appointed scientists at the Center for Disease Control here have isolated a new disease currently being spread epidemically by insects. They believe there are similarities between the emergence of the infection and the appearance of bubonic plague. In both cases, bacteria that caused disease in insects mutated into a new form that threatened humans, raising pustulant sores on parts of the victims' bodies.
The new bacterium, photorhabdus asymbiotica, is believed to have evolved very recently--over the last two or three weeks--from photorhabdus luminescens. The photorhabdus family of bacteria (the name comes from the Greek roots for "glowing rods") is bioluminescent, and typically kills the host insect and leaves its body glowing.
CDC scientists have identified Epidemic Ground Zero as the city of Houston, Texas, specifically a small grouping of inner-city tenements in Houston's infamous Second Ward. Patients have checked into area hospitals complaining of headaches, tinnitus (ringing ears), and a sudden inexplicable intolerance for liberal campaign rhetoric. Sufferers from "glowing bugitis," as triage staff have taken to calling it, typically present with a faint greenish glow emanating from their skin.
Contagious diseases spread by insects are quite common, U.S. Surgeon-General Skipjack LaWrasse explained: "As well as passing microbes directly into our bloodstream when they bite us, insects can also act as a reservoir to 'cook up' future human diseases. The species of bacteria may have been around for centuries, but it is just that a new strain evolves that is suddenly able to infect humans as well as other animals."
Recent mysterious weather patterns may also have affected insect evolution. "The picture is further complicated by climate change," Dr. LaWrasse noted, "which seems to be altering the range of places insects can survive and breed, bringing new insects which can carry devastating diseases such as malaria into the Northern hemisphere."
Dr. LaWrasse is also interested in historical connections.
"There are reports from the American Civil War of soldiers with glowing wounds," he says. "It’s thought that this relates to the insect infection, which somehow affected these wounded men. It may well be that this current epidemic is some sort of mutant recurrence of a plague that went undiagnosed during President Lincoln's first term of office in the 1860s."
It is not yet known how the disease is transmitted. Some speculate that it is air-borne, carried on microscopic droplets of water in the speaking voice. Others are arguing that it is transmitted by skin mites.
What is known, however, is that it is spreading. One week ago, there were twelve cases. Yesterday, there were 412. Today, 2457.
Reacting swiftly to the threat, President Lincoln has quarantined the entire city of Houston. Unfortunately, he may not have acted quickly enough: isolated cases have been found in parts of Virginia near the nation's capital and parts of rural Texas, including Crawford, the location of ex-president George W. Bush's ranch.
Dirty Business, Holy Politics Is
Signs defaced all over the world--one example from St. Paul
is especially egregious. (Mullah BD Times photo by Gilles dePerche)
(DWS, New York, October 26, 2004) The upcoming election of a new world deity has turned even uglier in recent weeks, with signs being defaced and blown up all over the world. Many of the signs have been scrawled with graffiti pertaining to fish, which has fueled speculation that the Elect Jesus movement is responsible, a charge Jesus campaign spokesperson Jerry Falwell denies.
"Outrageous! Simply outrageous!" he exclaims. "Many fringe groups use the fish as a symbol, and I can assure you that Our Lord and Savior would never allow His countenance to shine on such a sinful endeavor, especially pertaining to His Mom, even in a close race."
Critics, however, point out that Falwell himself has been charged with murder in the machete death of Karl Rove during the Million Mantid March, and that the Holy Prepuce is still missing from the campaign.
"I assure you, Jesus does not have the Holy Prepuce," Falwell asserts, "and even if He did, He would never use it for evil. The wages of sin is death. And that machete incident was an accident for which I have fully atoned."
"Falwell can't be trusted any farther than I can spit a punkin seed," says Wodin and Valhallan campaign director Johanney "Thor" Inqvist. "I've had Valhallans 4-evah stickers torn off my chariot while parked at a campaign rally, and I clearly saw a horde of tiny men in dark blue suits running away from the scene. Tracts saying 'Where will YOU spend eternity?' were found behind them. Piles of reeking wolf offal were left on the doorstoop of our headquarters. Zeus couldn't assume the form of a wolf if his life depended on it. With the Olympians in disarray, running against each other, you can bet it wasn't them. And 'the wages of sin is death'? Hah! Not in Valhalla, where the means of production of sin are in the hands of the workers."
Allah '04 spokesperson Mullah Ronnie al-Burkett concurs, noting that "the snot-nosed brat will do anything to win. Just last week someone threw a tuna casserole at The Holy One's motorcade as it passed through the streets of Hong Kong. The culprit was later identified as a Christian Coalition canvasser dressed as a Falun Gong supporter. And he's not alone--after the Holy One's shoes were found to be filled with salmon cream and wolf excrement, the perpetrator was found to be a close friend of Ba'al for God '04 campaign director Ann Coulter, recently returned from a campaign trip to heaven. The wolves? Under the control of Anubis, I think, who, since he knows he doesn't stand a chance in the election, is only too willing to throw his support to Ba'al."
Jesus Himself remains unavailable for comment, rising above the fray as He takes a couple of days off to clear some brush from around his ranch near Jerusalem.
Reason Rules in '04 campaign spokesperson Baruch "Jim" Spinoza released a statement noting that, while their party doesn't actually have a actual personal god running for the position of worldwide deity, reason dictates that a clean campaign is essential to a reliable outcome. "The last thing the party of Reason wants is a lengthy recount, thunderbolts being slung about, smitings and apocalyptic rumblings."
Meanwhile, in related news, the Million Mantid March continues with its new theme, "Satanists for Zeus in '04," as their march continues toward Washington, D.C. The March, originally designed to oust from office beloved president Abraham Lincoln, recently elected by acclaim, has been bogged down lately, as shortages of Raid vaccine have increased deaths among the ranks, and packs of ravenous wolves have eaten huge gaps in the columns, as the Iraqi lambs and sheep ran away from their assigned anti-wolf guard duties. Yesterday, near the Dismal Swamp, a phalanx of walking catfish created panic as they flopped into the midst of the mantids with packets of C-4 strapped to their bodies and detonated them. Fortunately, students from the Mystic, CT, W.A.V.E. program were on hand to collect the body parts to good use. The W.A.V.E. program has recently endorsed Poseidon for Worldwide Deity in '04.
Fish Guts Give Troubled Students a Second Chance
MYSTIC, Conn. (AP) -- Instead of a traditional classroom setting, high school students participating in an alternative program at Mystic Aquarium and Institute for Exploration are getting a hands-on learning experience alongside dead beluga whales, rotting seal corpses and other erstwhile marine life.
This "mystical" chemistry lesson takes a strong stomach: It starts with grinding up fish in a big blender.
At first, 15-year-old Sarah Lenney was nervous. Her partner, 17-year-old Stephen Furlong, admits it's something he never thought he would do in school. But they break into devilish grins as they explain their work.
"It was kind of gross yesterday, because we had to touch it with our hands," Furlong laughs, pointing to containers filled with chloroform-scented fish parts.
The fish are being ground up to allow mantid scientists to analyze their caloric, fat, ash and moisture content to help the aquarium establish the most effective techniques for eliminating marine life from the planet.
"They may think they're doing this just for their own benefit to learn, but I'm actually using them to get the method up and running," said Lisa Mazzaro, a researcher who oversees the lab. Mazzaro is happily married to a 10,000-year-old praying mantis from ancient Atlantis, and voted for George W. Bush in the 2000 election. She and her husband are both quite upset at the travesty of democratic process by which Abraham Lincoln and his fishy minions stole the presidency scant weeks before the scheduled election.
Though other alternative programs exist in Connecticut, many are aimed at students with behavioral problems or are already full.
Not so at Mystic. The WAVES program - which stands for Wheeler's Aquarium Vocational Experience for Students - tailors its coursework to give students a second chance at success.
Costing $120,000 for the first year, district officials hope to eventually expand the program. Consideration is also being given to hiring district officials that cost considerably less than $120,000 a year, and to hiring grammar tutors who will help reporters avoid dangling modifiers and split infinitives.
Back in the lab, Lenney and Furlong carefully weigh samples of lipids and record the numbers in a log. There's a lot of work to do before tomorrow.
The next task: analyzing penguin blood.
Monday, October 25, 2004
The President Goes for a Swim
An hour later Kerry can't find the president anywhere. None of the Secret Service suits know, or they aren't saying, or they don't speak human. And Kerry can't understand their electric organ discharges.
Finally he tries the bedroom. There is no guard outside the door--Bessie doesn't count. She looks a bit lost herself, munching on the carpet forlornly.
Kerry lets himself in.
Behind the observation glass, the water is murky, but he can see two whitish shapes floating around. The underbellies of the tunas? He squints into the murk for a few minutes, but sees nothing that makes any sense to him. He is about to give up when the forms come up to the glass, see him, wave gaily, and swim back into the gloom.
He has found Lincoln. The president is cavorting in the nude with Cher, whom Kerry recognizes instantly, despite the mask on her face. He and Teresa are big fans.
Called to the Orifice
It is possible that they have gotten some explosives, yes.
Possible, yeah. I would say so. Since just this morning several hundred scarab beetles wired with C-4 scurried into the offices of NOAA and blew themselves up. Weather forecasts are on hold for the next few weeks or months. Not long after that, it rained frogs on Mary Mother of God’s election headquarters.
Frogs. What harm in that? A little squishy underfoot, but…
Explosive frogs. One of the hallmarks of a Bushco operation—he just loves exploding frogs. Seven campaign volunteers were killed, twenty maimed. Rosary beads were all over the place. It was sickening. Hardly a laughing matter. And here—a report just in that flies with C-4 strapped to their bellies are crashing into campaign posters and blowing them up. Allah campaign posters. That isn't good. His campaign is already pissed at us.
I don’t see how any of this affects my—
Explain how almost 400 tons of high explosives just go missing then, sir. On your watch.
Well, it wasn’t exactly MY watch. I had assigned people to secure these explosives, and ...
I guess they didn’t do it very well.
I guess not. Witnesses report that a pack of wolves, maybe ten at the most, stole the explosives.
Well, wolves. Wolves are pretty scary, so you can understand that the guards might ...
These same witnesses say that your guards—who, by the way, were not people at all, but really calves and lambs wearing blue uniforms and hats—ran away at the first sign of the wolves.
Guards are expensive, so we used cheaper barnyard contract labor. You said we had to stop spending so much on—
Shut up. Let me put it this way. The Big Guy is really pissed. He says you better find this stuff and bring it back, along with the wolves or whoever they sold the stuff to. And not tomorrow, either. Today. Or phftttttt! Your throat.
The Big Guy? Lincoln?
No, stupid. The BIG GUY.
The—oh. The Big Guy.
Rigggghhhhht. Now get busy. And send in Barthwart on your way out.
Barthwart, what’s going on with this Million Mantid March? Any news?
It’s very interesting, sir.
The sunglasses are keeping them out of the zappers. But the Raid seems to be working on about half of them.
You’re kidding. I thought they were immune.
Well, they would have been sir, except that about half of them didn’t get a shot.
An immunization against Raid. The Raid vaccine.
Really? Why not? I thought they bought more than enough for the whole mantid population. Didn’t they contract with that company, Bill’s Handy Insecticide Vaccines, Inc. In Mexico somewhere?
Turns out the vaccine they got from him was no good, contaminated.
Really? With what?
Trout roe. Completely useless. Bill’s taken off with the money, nobody knows where. So now all they got is some vaccine from a French company—Jean-Claude’s Discount Raid-Stop. Not enough for all of them and they’re killing and eating each other to get what there is. Total panic.
My, my. Where is the march, now?
Passing through Virginia. Near the Dismal Swamp.
Hm. Lots of catfish around there, right?
"Mr. President," Cher says. "It's an honor. I'm looking at a picture of you right now."
"Yeah?" Lincoln says. "Good likeness?"
"You tell me," Cher says. "It's a nickel."
"I need to talk to you about something," Lincoln says. "Any chance you could stop by?"
"What something?" Cher says.
"How you think I'm as ugly as John Kerry," Lincoln says. "I wanna prove you wrong."
"That's easy," Cher says. "I'll just admit it right here on the phone. You're right, I'm wrong."
"Ever had sex with a president?" Lincoln says.
"Yep," Cher says.
"Ever had sex with a Republican president?" Lincoln says.
"Nope," Cher says, "and I ain't about to start."
"I'm pretty liberal for a Republican," Lincoln says.
"I'm pretty old for fairy tales," Cher says.
"I hear you're three hundred years old," Lincoln says. "Any truth in that?"
"None," Cher says. "I'm well under a hundred."
"I'd still like to make the blowfish with two spines with you," Lincoln says.
"I wouldn't mind doing it with one of your tunas," Cher confesses. "I think Charlie is smokin."
"That can be arranged," Lincoln says. "How about a threesome?"
"What, you, me, and Charlie?" Cher says.
"For instance," Lincoln says.
"That's just disgusting," Cher says, and hangs up the phone.
Lincoln turns to Kerry.
"That went well, I think," he says.
"I've got Cher on hold," Kerry says.
"Put her on speakerphone," Lincoln says.
"With all due respect, Abe," Kerry says, "I think you should reconsider. Sexual politics are different now. You could get in big trouble--"
"Don't give me that shit," Lincoln says. "Look at Clinton. He fucked everything with a pussy."
"Yes," Kerry says, "and look what the Republicans did to him."
"That's because to conservatives sex is the only sin that counts," Lincoln says, "because they ain't doing it themselves. Look at Bush, too busy fucking the world to fuck his wife. Fuck the environment, fuck the poor, fuck the economy, fuck the Enron shareholders, fuck the Afghans and the Iraqis, fuck reality, fuck everything but his wife."
"Well--" Kerry says.
"To the mantids," Lincoln expostulates, "everything is allowed, so long as you do it in God's name--except sex. Most of them bugs are parthenogenetic anyway, that's probably why."
"I don't think that's strictly true--" Kerry starts.
"Me," Lincoln says, "I was married, first time around. Now I'm single. Now I'm gonna get me a little. Put her on speakerphone."
"You're the boss, boss," Kerry says, and puts Cher on speakerphone.
Get Me Cher
"Just who the fuck," Lincoln splutters, "does this Cher person think she is?"
"She's, uh," Kerry says, "she's a singer. And an actress. Beloved by millions."
"A blind singer, maybe? Another Homer, maybe?"
"Well," Kerry says, "there's actually no evidence that anyone named Homer ever even existed, let alone was blind ..."
"Don't give me your fucking intellectual quibbles!" Lincoln yells. "I want to know where this no-last-name Cher bimbo gets off saying I look like you on a crappy day!"
"Maybe," Kerry says, "she means on your crappy day ..."
"Let's break it down," Kerry says. "If it's my crappy day, then I'm ugly and you're uglier. But if it's your crappy day, you're basically a good-looking guy who sometimes, on a crappy day, is as ugly as me. See? It all comes down to--"
"I don't give one goddamn fish poop what it comes down to!" Lincoln yells. "What I want to know is, has this Cher ever seen me in person? Up close?"
"Probably not," Kerry admits. "You want me to get the Navy Seals to--"
"How old is she?" Lincoln muses. "Would I be too old for her?"
"Oh, heavens, no," Kerry says. "I mean, she keeps herself up, but I think she's actually several hundred years old."
"Call her in," Lincoln says. "Tell her I've got a job for her. Tell her," he adds with a grim smile, pointing at his groin area, "that her country needs her."
"Will do, Abe," Kerry says.