Tuesday, October 02, 2007

Uran and the Terrible Times

This message which some, despite its obvious prescience, would call paranoid, was found circulating disturbingly widely in fact, on what we would call an internet, a few months before the beginning of those Terrible Times in the Third Galaxy. (The author was apparently never found by Hopeless Security -- and jolly good for him!):

One thing I'm sure of, it will come all on a sudden.

First, it will appear as if a reconciliation will be possible, then, out of the blue, will come an unfortunate incident or two coupled with Secret Intelligence so Sensitive that no one can know anything about it except that it poses a Grave and Imminent Threat to the Security of Arrogance.

Rexona will then, sadly, reluctantly and with heavy heart announce that he has been forced to send the bombers to protect our Arrogance from harm from the Evil Uranians!

Therefore, without warning, one dark, moon-less night in the early Spring, a couple thousand sorties will be sent and the Uranian air defense and air force will be taken out with surgical strikes and the terror of shock and awe destruction.

Special units of Synchronized Soldiers will take out selected sites of Uranian Evil!

Within a few days, bobble heads on television will spew phrases like, "The Spud was with us!", "Freedom Prevails!", "Spud bless our Arrogance!" and "Mission accomplished!".

Meanwhile, the mud lines above and below the smiling talking heads will distract any viewer who might be on the verge of thinking an independent thought. Commercial breaks will take care of the rest.

It is in such manner that Rexona will finally ascend to Supreme Hole.

The upside, of course, is that the color shots of explosions, tracer fire from the automatic weapons of gun ships and -- yeah! -- the mushroom clouds on television will be beautiful as Rexona jerks off behind his podium.

Should the citizens of Arrogance go to the streets, which they probably won't, the media will scream "traitors!" at the few who do. They will be met by crowd control units who will pacify them. The seriously disastified will, for their own safety, be sent to refuge in the relocation camps prepared earlier.

In such manner, in presidential decree and martial law, in secret subtrefuge and in public view, in silence as well as violence, the Lady of Liberty and Light will make her final transition to that of Fortress of Arrogance, to the Madam Who Rides a Fat Car.

Be thankful that you live in a world not only more peaceful, but far saner than that of the Third Galaxy!

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