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Friday 12th October
The world looks to us to see if we're ready for war, disbelieving in the possibility.
We are a nation known for fruity-tasting martinis, Chunky Monkey, cigar magazines,
Jesse Jackson, twanging hemlines, and also for being a population intent upon gagging
down pound after pound of arteriosclerosis-inducing buttered beef. They think we're
soft. I have some news for the world, such as it is: we wore cargo pants from '97
to '00 and learned a great deal from the experience. We all own hiking boots,
whether sueded or fringed or both. Rare is the American man who does not own some
kind of multi-purpose pocket tool, and rarer still is the American man who does not
own "Gladiator" on DVD. We are as ready as we'll ever be!
As an aside, I never was able to drink all my Y2K whisky in the aftermath of the
ugly riots, being too busy picking off trespassers and organizing air defenses, so,
come what may, morale and Dutch courage can be expected to be good-to-excellent by
a vigilante citizenry. I tried out one of the old stashed banana Power Bars the
other day and it wasn't bad at all. Just a bit like eating lemur shit, shitting
it out and then eating it again. The iodine and sea-air tang of Lagavulin washes
everything away. Everything... everything.
Saturday 13th October
I have had it up to the eyebrows with the desecration of Our Beautiful Religion.
We have done everything we can to make the world a little more palatable for
less-than-exalted intellects, or people who refuse to put in the time, which
I suppose in a way is a good thing, but in the process we have ruined everything,
which is bad. Oy. If I were the Pope, I would make the following announcement:
"If you are the type of person who is unwilling to attend movies with subtitles,
this religion ain't for you. Begone!"
I attended a memorial service this morning, wherein one of the most sublime and
moving of the King James Bible's passages, Psalm 23, was reduced to rubble by
The New Daydreaming American Low-S.A.T. Gaiaist translation, and subsequently
left me white with rage. I had never before contemplated angrily storming out
of a religious service, but this was close. It changed the Valley of the Shadow
of Death to a "dark valley" and changed "I shall not want" to "there is nothing
I lack," "paths of righteousness" to "the right path," "I will fear no evil" to
"I fear no harm." People who cotton to this kind of mealy-mouthed de-beautifying
should tell God when they meet him that he is merely a "presence" and that they
themselves are merely "a form of energy." An exasperated God, who has surely
heard it all before and probably has had a neckful himself, will likely smite
them on the spot. I, of course, will stand a little to the right of the right
hand and let out a delighted Arsenio woof.
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