MR. GRIM’S MORALE SPEECH FOR SOCIOPATHIC RECRUITS

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Welcome to a Special Top-Top Secret  Evening with

cropped-AUNT-SAMAMTHA-2.jpgThe Unsightly Mr. Grim!

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Western Alliance Community Watch Torture Detail!

Well, hello again! Here we are again! And I see some familiar faces in our distinguished audience tonight. Hello, boys and girls! Let’s give a hand for my newly recruited faithful bumbling hooligans in the front row, ladies and gents! That’s right, give yourselves a hand. Yes, that means you. Oh please, you’re not going to feign humility at this point in your godforsaken lives!

Oh, don’t beat yourselves up over it. My, but aren’t we gluttons for punishment! That is, as long as WE are the ones administering the punishment, right? You might say that we’re addicted to being on top, huh! Wouldn’t want to be on the receiving end of it! Nuh-uh! There’s really no use in trying to side-skirt that particular quirky indulgence of ours, is there?

You know, any honest psychiatrist could predict that about us. That’s the thing about screwballs, psychos, duplicitous sociopaths, and the like: for the most part, we just can’t take what we just love to dish out.

But seriously, when was the last time you ran into an honest psychiatrist? Pffft, I mean, one who isn’t a monomaniacal, self-serving tool of the state like the rest of us here tonight, dead-set on nay-saying whatever isn’t in the administered rulebook for which he’s been bought and sold to advance our propaganda?

Oh . . . For those of you in the back who have up till now never met me, so sorry, but I’m the Unsightly Mr. Grim, and I’m running this show. The last time we gathered here, I’m sorry to say that I inveigled you, slightly, by unabashedly presenting myself as . . . a sergeant, I think it was, or some other pseudo-military connotation. I really can’t keep track of the last insignia I shined my boots with for one of you boot-lickers. We behind-the-scenes kind of guys tend to do that a lot in our little troupe. Lots of flash for the minions.

Actually, I’m a manipulative, treasonous, sadistic, underhanded, cowardly bully—-just like you! A self-deceived bumbling narcissist with delusions of grandeur swirling around in my head about being some kind of Secret-Agent Wannabe! A brainwashed lackey of the power-hungry powers-that-be . . . and damn proud of it!

Just like you.

And whether or not I am or ever was a military man is entirely beside the point when we’re talking about my being a murderous deviant. For the record—-well, until we redact the record—-any of our attendant psychiatrists will tell you that we of the pathologically insane persuasion make the finest soldiers . . . uh, you know, when we’re on the clock; when we’re not torturing and murdering innocent civilians on the side, for extracurricular fun. Our agency veritably teems with cunning wretches who simply adore screwing with the lives of helpless and vulnerable people, from the shadows, like the despicable human cockroaches we are.

Now don’t be disheartened. Some of the more timid newcomers among you tonight have the potential to be just like us, given the proper push in our fun direction, even though you may think you really haven’t got it in you. Why, before you know it, we’ll have you growing feelers of your own, yes, so that you too can slink around on the fringe of society in a grisly facade of personable humanity, as you torture and maim to your heart’s content with the rest of us!

Even if you might have to occasionally eat your own shit, in a crunch. Not to worry, though; when you do eat your own shit from time to time (and we’ll be sure that you do), we’ll have conditioned you to do it with a big, dumb grin pasted on your face. You see, it’s not that we think you may have a hard time loosening up to the malevolent life of a two-faced treasonous assassin. Oh, no, not at all! All you need is a little subliminal conditioning! Seriously, we’ll do everything in our power to bring you around to our big-wide-grinning, shit-eating method of conditioned reflex. We spare no expense. We’re funny that way. Besides, it ain’t our money.

But let’s not start imagining, dog forbid, that you’d lose your precious dignity, or individuality, if you signed your soul—-er, um, devoted some of your time—-over to us. There are plenty in our gang of self-appointed judge-jury-&-executioners who aren’t exactly like you and me. Some of them have a distinctive edge on the mayhem market, and some don’t. We’ll find a place for you, I guarantee it. The esteemed members of our subliminally brainwashed Community Watch Torture Squad come from virtually all walks of life! Allow me to give you a description of the many classifications of personality we’re excited to recruit. Post-haste!

For starters, we have more than our fair share of uneducated, disinformed, self-indulging lazy phonies who are always looking for a ready-made pity-party in which to bask; irretrievable codependents, if you will, who never get tired of pawning off their responsibility for any mistake they’ve ever made to someone else; preferably, to an unwitting scapegoat; but alternately, to an attention-craving puppeteer—-er, um, supervisor—-who is more than willing to supply, due to the proper inducement of his slightly higher pay scale, a well-timed patronizing pat on the back for the more malleable and submissive phonies in the pity-party.

You’d be surprised at how many of this type of loser there are all around you. Why, we’re hoping you might be one yourself! Are you the type of loser who instantly cheers up as soon as he’s surrounded by a big gang of losers just like him? Well, we’ve got piles and piles of this type of bonehead who is so easily swayed—-incited!—-fomented!—-by the domineering crowd. And that’s fortunate for us, because all of this type of vile and recidivistic codependent are absolute cowards, and will invariably jump at the chance to be part of our ghastly gang. They’re scared to death of being all alone and blamed when something goes wrong with any decision they’ve personally made; so it warms their cockles, so to speak, to have a convenient local infestation of lazy cowards to custom-tailor them with a form-fitting artificial spine. We give them a home befitting the perfect cockroach: a place where skittering, scuttling, skittish little primitive bugs, twitching and writhing all over one another at the behest of big old Grandma Cockroach behind the scenes, can go scampering off to that handy-dandy, perfect little hidey-hole, whenever inconvenienced by Truth’s light of day.

Another type of personality we love to recruit is found among those labeled the “damaged goods” of society. Misery loves company! You’ll never hear the end of it from these vicious, supercilious pricks. These are our scorned; our fat, ugly bullies; our adulterous sucker-punching whores; our recently released brutalizing and misogynistic bull-queer ex-convicts; our murderous baby-raping drug dealers, and so forth. Stick a knife in one of their hands, and look! The world is a pincushion! Lots of ex-cons in this conglomeration of ours. Prompt responders to a spontaneous Pavlovian retaliation. And guess who’d ringing the dinner bell?

Our esteemed organization also loathsomely embraces so many of the half-baked and half-assed of the world: those who are always seeking unending, unearned reciprocation from “all those other people” whom God has so unfairly granted slightly more proficient artistic capabilities and learning skills than our common slobs have seen fit to accumulate. These half-assed losers comprise our largest pool of bloodthirsty, bloodsucking participants: those whom we affectionately call “your basic mom & pop hacks.” These menial, unimaginative tripe would sell their very souls, along with their respective mothers-in-law, to the Devil Himself for a newly shuffled, freshly marked deck of life’s cards; for a “new world order” that wouldn’t hold such a “one-sided bias” towards honest excellence in individual achievement. To put it plainly, they seek a more accommodating rearrangement of life’s rewards that instead caters to that half-assed “sound of one cheek scratching” lifestyle of lazy, moaning and groaning idlers who have been so unreasonably denied the undeserved fruits of their disappointing output.

And finally, our evil eye is set upon recruiting the bitter; the misguided; the self-destructing; those with a certain obsessive compulsion for that perpetual fix to sedate their perpetual addictions; all of our poor, unmotivated, untalented ragamuffins so helplessly beset with sleeping late, or swilling themselves blind, or stuffing their distended gullets to the point of diabetic stupor, or passing any buck that they’re unable to slide into their pockets unobserved, because “Now it’s payback time! Now someone else is gonna pay! Now it’s my turn on top! Finally! TGIF!”

Oh wait a minute . . . all those personality descriptions . . . I’m sorry, I’ve just described all of us again!

Truth to tell, all of our spite-spitting, finger-pointing “sad-face” clowns—-our recruited, undistinguished misfits of society—-have always been the easiest to brainwash into committing unspeakable, unmitigated evil, and are quick studies to become the most merciless animals on earth, once we get the ball rolling for them and unleash them upon one of our chosen human targets.

We’re the smiley-faced Evil Clowns! And we’re on top now. Take a bow, children.

Allow me to explain how and why we’re in the motions of resetting the entire social structure in order to screw up the lives of our human targets—-who might first appear to be random targets, until you look a bit more closely and discover how delightfully petty and obsessed we really are with a) destroying the lives of innocent people who unknowingly cause us to soil our skivvies, and b) trying to cover our retarded, fixated, superstitious, self-righteous half-asses while we’re doing it.

First the why: We like looking good, especially to ourselves. And believe you me, nothing makes us look good, unless we’re making somebody else look worse than we are. Trust me, we’ve struggled our goddamnedest—-tried every which way!—-to make ourselves look good under our own steam, but absolutely nothing works for us. That’s why we have to cling together in a sadistic gang of covert mass-murdering terrorists like this: it’s to prop us up with the false image of social worth. The “pacifier” for Junior to suck on. This is what helps us evade the fact that we’re really nothing more than a bunch of morally bereft social leeches who are profiting on the abject misery of others.

Nothing else works for us. We have to make somebody else look really bad.

Surprise! That’s the Devil’s best-kept secret on how to look good: doing it at someone else’s expense! Stick out your big foot! Trip them up, knock them down, and then point down at them and say, “Look at the clumsy idiot!” Then prompt all the other assholes in the gang to rally ’round the flag with a “Got that right!” exclamation, and a hardy guffaw; and top it all off with that trademark celebratory pat on the back that we always share, religiously, all around the Fool’s Circle.

And just between you and me, we perform these follow-up theatrics strictly for the ratcheting up of all our newly recruited leeches—-those who need that special introductory urge of encouragement toward Spiritual Doom’s congregational point of no return.

We take great pride in utterly destroying the reputation of our target, and we always follow it up with a big finger-pointing session of “Will you look at that horrible reputation! My goodness! How could anybody do that to themselves?”

I ask you: What makes you look better than pointing the finger of accusation at someone else? I’ll tell you what does: Pointing that finger in such a way that ensures your never having to prove your accusation. It must be an accusation that is careful to disallow any opportunity for the accused to refute the accusation. There is no way to explain to you just how important this factor is to all the cowardly demons in our mighty organization. You see, we’re not all that accomplished in the art of debate.

And the best place to accomplish this preeminent, unchallengeable subterfuge? Why, behind the back of the accused, of course.

You see? Child’s play! Right up our urine-soaked alley.

And we’re always on the march down that alley, let me tell you. If we didn’t consistently medicate ourselves with our daily dose of sadistic covert torture and organized blackballing against our chosen targets, we’d just be moping around scratching our retarded half-asses all day long. And I’m telling you, it can get pretty darn aggravating not having a social outlet to vent one’s self-destructive psychoses. Hey, you try spending all your useless time trying to switch ass-cheeks in mid-scratch, and relentlessly having to remind yourself that you’ve only got the one! Baby needs an outlet!

We really are a pack of petty, mediocre, self-important assholes when it comes right down to it. Anyone with actual honest-to-goodness talent blows us clean out of the water, makes us cringe and froth and act out amongst one another. That’s no fun. Gotta keep the gang’s minds off things like that! You know what they say about idle hands! Keep those hands moving! Prestidigitation! Abra cadabra! Only one cheek, remember? Can’t drop the juggled balls in the middle of our little game of Hide the Hotdog! Gotta keep diverting attention, and that’s that.

Gotta make sure our victims—-recruits and targets alike—-never get a chance to really put two and two together. That’s why, with our time-tested subliminal indoctrinating techniques, we’ve fabricated a brilliant mathematical breakthrough for our crew: Two half-asses equals one complete ass!

Am I wrong? It’s right here on paper. Look, see, right here, right below the Presidential Seal of Approval for the Unjustified Torture of Surreptitiously Blacklisted Possible Enemy Combatants. Official UTSBPEC! Now, you know it’s on the official up-&-up when it’s been acronymized. Please, accept my welcome to you, feel free to include this abbreviated paternoster on our buffet-table of cosmetically irrefutable, dutifully enigmatic acronyms: NSA, DHS, CIA, FBI, ATF, DoD, etcetera, you get the point.

Pardon my flowery elaborations and seemingly extemporaneous name-dropping, but once we’ve dappled your sensibilities with allusions to implied “official government business,” our indoctrinating techniques merely boil down to a simple rule: Negate the possibility of leaving one of our retarded half-asses to his own inferior intellectual devices! Don’t leave a half-ass unsupervised! He might piss in the stew! Provide round-the-clock support for all half-asses! Provide constant half-assed networking and compulsory team-ups! Provide the illusion of appreciable, badge-waving, supervisory legitimacy for all recruited half-asses!

You can’t get more administratively supportive than that!

Well, now that we’ve diluted it all down to the point of being reasonably comfortable with the term, “officially sanctioned treasonous terrorism,” just think of the all possibilities we’ll have now, with our big pile of staunch half-asses to command and shuffle around town in our stately scheme of pick-and-choose torture and slow-kill assassination. We’re big business now! Just multiply it by two, and—-oh, carry the half-ass. All the way to the bank. Mush, doggies!

 

And that explains the why of it. Right?

“GOT THAT  RIGHT!” (Guffaw, pat-pat)

 

Which brings us to the how of it.

Here now is our top-secret mission. Oh, we just love saying that, don’t we! Makes us feel all cunning, all tingly, all not-quite-so intrinsically useless. Here is our top-secret mission in a nutshell—-which is about the size of it, in that area where we get all tingly!

It is our self-appointed duty to corral, ostracize, humiliate, and ultimately destroy our chosen human targets: namely, those more talented and intellectually promising in our community than we ourselves are; those stubborn, hardcore die-hards; those inflexible, dedicated individualists in our society. You know, those so-called “free thinkers,” whoop-de-doo, who are just so damn full of themselves—-as opposed to being full of the self-satisfied herd mentality comprising the rest of us—-that we have no choice but to categorize them into the “Tough luck” “It is what it is” “See you in Hell, sucker” placement on our top-secret Hit List.

You see, the only way we can cause these inordinately talented individuals to look really bad—-and I’m talking really sick and crazy and downright BA-A-AD—-is by totally sabotaging and obliterating their lives; psychologically, physically, financially, socially, scrupulously . . . well, Satanically, if you must know—-in a strategically systematic government-sponsored covert fashion.

In short, we need to bring them down to our level, and more, and cover our own self-serving half-asses in the meantime.

Trust me, you’d cover your half-ass too, if you were secretly misappropriating government funding and services in order to commit murderous treason behind society’s back. Why, punishment for what we’re doing is death by hanging if the truth ever got out. True that!

Now you can see how important it is for us to tippy-toe around behind the scenes as an indiscernible infestation of inconspicuous cockeyed vermin. This is why we strive like the Devil Himself (our hero!) to keep our true motives top-top secret from the world at large.

And to be perfectly frank, if we don’t target our chosen scapegoats for destruction, they’ll make us feel bad by simply being around. Don’t you see? Then the rest of the world will inevitably start comparing them to us!

Won’t they? Oh, hey, let’s not start over-analyzing our defective self-esteem issues, it’s a little too late for that. Because hoo-boy! Wouldn’t that be the end of our aggrandizing “Cheater’s Presumptuous and Premature End Zone Spike and Victory Jig!”

That daily victory dance is a must, by the way.

For us, the really great thing about getting to dance and swagger behind the scenes, and push our weight around in this society—-where 90% of the gullible fools out there have no idea of the damage we’ve already done with billions of dollars in perniciously reallocated tax-dollar funding—-is that it’s so easy to go on systematically destroying our chosen targets right under the average citizen’s very nose.

You see, the average citizen is pathetically ignorant concerning the predictable direction of the inertia of unfettered self-serving criminal depravity running rampant in the forgotten cracks and crevasses and caches of his own government’s corrupted, fractious, and unrestrained law enforcement and intelligence agencies; not to mention the recently deregulated recruitment and sponsorship of obscure private contractors who perform these covert treasonous activities for them at an astronomical going rate.

Whew! That was a mouthful! But we’re used to that. We bite off a piece here, abscond a piece there, and once in a while we just up and rip off a really big chunk right out in the open, then shrug a couple of times for the camera while we’re chewing, just to flaunt that official and patriotic up-&-up with the lowdown on the shakedown. After all, what do you know?

Looking good!

We’re a bunch of sneaky, conniving, murdering sons of bitches, and if you left your liberty and freedom in “safe keeping” with us, then you can kiss that very last complete ass you’ve ever known goodbye, Charley.

“HEY MR. GRIM! SHOULDN’T WE BE WORRIED ABOUT TRAITORS AMONG US? OR BACKSLIDERS?”

Oh sure, we do get the occasional rift and backlash among our own. What do you expect? Our rank and file are nothing if not the lowest filthy scum on the planet. Some of our tattooed neo-Nazi psychos here, for instance—-our “Aryan Brothers,” as they prefer to huff and puff up their chests about it—-will stab you in the back for an extra slice of apple pie.

Which is, incidentally, the very reward we promise some of our retards for their help; so you can understand why they might be a trite touchy about it! I’m afraid that’s just one of the minor drawbacks of our vaunted conditioning techniques among the savages. Oh well.

And, as with any recruited subversive group of depraved sociopaths, we have to assume a grudging reluctant acceptance for some of our “associates” in these covert endeavors, who are constantly trying to prove they’re as deceitfully manipulative and power-starved as every other demonic asshole in the gang. We do run the chance of being as dreadfully deceitful to one another as to our victims on occasion. Some things just can’t be helped. “Nature of the Beast,” to coin a phrase.

But you can bet your bottom tax-dollar that we will not tolerate lowering our standards—-as a whole, as a congregation—-by doing something defeatist and divisive, such as allowing to submit ourselves to the same legal restrictions that cripple those “law abiding” gullible sheep of society; nor do we place ourselves on the same faulty footing as the aforementioned unlucky shafted who are handpicked for our Hit List.

Because oh come on, that would make us shafted shafters! Shaftees! And while that may be just what would happen to an exposed backsliding “traitor to treason” in our midst, for the rest of us that sort of miscalculation would just plain hurt our pride. We definitely don’t want to get our pride hurt. No Sirree!

Sure, the penalty for dissent or betrayal among our recruits is harsh to say the least. As specified, weRATS‘re a big, stinky pile of nutless cowards. This unique cohort, which can only thrive and profit from the continuing clandestine destruction of its victims, quite naturally breeds ruthlessness, reproach, and contempt for our “fellow man”—-a description which still somewhat loosely applies to us. We still look human, anyway. And the only thing we hate more than not being part of a crowd is when someone wants to leave our crowd once we’ve finally found a goddamned crowd that’s
depraved enough to have opened its tentacles to us.

And I must confess that the occasional sappy “free thinker” does slip through the cracks of our initial psychological screening process. Oh, the botheration of it all! And it’s usually a boy. Strange, huh? He’ll tend to wax all wiggle-waggly and wishy-washy on us out of the blue, and may likely cause all kinds of “critical thinking” anguish to some of our more unpolished acolytes if we don’t manage to give it a quick nip in the bud.

But you’ve got to understand: Martyrdom is the last thing on the mind of someone who was willing to be seduced into torturing another human being in the first place. Hell, we ain’t talking about psycho Muslim suicide bombers here. We’re talking about subtle, evil, treasonous disinformation, and hypnotic propaganda. And if those who ponder desertion are not duly intimidated into submission by our promise to kill them in immediate retribution, we know that they will definitely reconsider once they realize that their loved ones will also be targeted for destruction, should they choose to persist down that vacillating maw of dissent.

We apply a timely influence to the baser instinct for survival among our recruits. You can’t be a traitor to treason and survive here. You can’t mosey up and schmooze with the Devil and expect to just walk away, easy as you please.

Hell, isn’t it obvious? We don’t even have to say a damn thing to them, usually. Once they’ve seen how we roll, it’s either join us in damnation or become targets yourselves. Or, we may simply choose to execute them on the spot, and mix up their remains with shark bait and throw it all in the ocean, and share some droll one-liner about what a great “chum” the schmoe was while he lasted. Whatever. The great thing about our being a great big pile of evil scum is that no one ever misses the throwaways.

These deterrents I mentioned work phenomenally well with our booming enlistment of Cousin Alices and Uncle Neds, and our “Jaime the corner grocer” types, and all the rest of our bamboozled shit-for-brains “Average Joe” assholes—-who, by some happy chance, were practically born wearing those “ignorant dupe” masks of deception that make them such ardent and effective surveillance operatives for the team.

Incidentally, the only thing that these intellectually and economically stunted “Average Joes” need to hear from our lips, to get them all riled up, is a trigger word: “terrorist,” or “pedophile,” or “prostitute,” or another word from our top-ten. And bam, you wouldn’t believe how quickly they all start foaming at the mouth and screaming bloody murder—-through their hats, of course, as is wont for your average led-astray cowardly sheep—-as soon as we point our finger at a target.

And we don’t even have to prove a goddamned thing we’re saying. Honest! Try it sometime! Just say “Pedophile!” and point at somebody. “Irreversible Wrongful Maligning of Reputation” is the name of the game.

Now that’s entertainment!

I tell you what, just check out this strategy:

I go to the local “black brother” gangbangers; you know, your neighborhood’s black bully-thugs—-the kind of black people who call intelligent, hard-working, aspiring black people “house niggers.” I go to these particular social retards, and I start talking about this target of mine, let’s say this certain white dude over here. Yeah, that’s who I’m pointing at. He’s a racist! Oh yeah, you bet, brothers! Boy, you should’ve just heard him ten minutes ago, going on and on about niggers and shit, I’m telling you! Hey Bozo, come over here a minute! Didn’t we just hear him say all that? C’mere, Bozo, swear on this handy stack of Bibles for me, thanks, pahdnah, and there you have it! Black racist rage at the drop of a lie.

Because you know what natural racists gangbangers are. Not just the black ones. All gangbangers. They’re social morons; arrogant, sadistic, grinning dick-heads ready to kill for a dollar or a lie, whichever comes first, to the bitter end. They’ll stab their own mothers after motherfucking them.

And right after that I’ll go down to the other end of town and rile up the Mexican gangbangers with the same lying bullshit. Or I can get one of the black or hispanic or white-faced asshole gangbangers who’s already working for me, and get him to lie through his teeth for me to his “brothers,” have him indulge the specified cultural leanings of whichever gang of assholes suits my devious purpose at the time. It’s whatever works for whatever moment. Just size up the situation and deliver that special brand of hell-on-earth fear-tactics deception to the masses. You know how many mentally debilitated thugs are running around loose in every city, just waiting to be reprogrammed to practice organized evil for us. Well, they’re already swimming downstream! What could be more childishly simple?

So there it is. Our roll call continues to thrive, all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. Still, we need to be careful whom we hire. Or tell, for that matter. But please, due to sheer numbers at this point in time, we don’t need to fret over the possibility of being outed, oh my demonic brethren.

We cover our abounding half-asses.

You see, all of these petty gangbanging assholes we recruit are just being used as one more group of patsies to blame when the shit finally hits the fan. Consider what a social upheaval it would be if Average Joe and Company—-our actual base of taxpayers, with the 9-to-5 jobs and the mortgages—-are finally identified as members of this hideous, treasonous, covert torture cartel without having had some other scapegoat in the wings to bear the brunt of their guilt in a pinch. And so we pit the Average Joes against the gangbangers, and vice versa. That’s another reason we have cops and shrinks on the take: in the occasional event that somebody gets a little out of hand and causes unwanted visibility for us, and needs to be neutralized. We have a ready shut-off valve. “Pass the blame.” Insulation from prosecution.

And if an outsider—-some lone-wolf social worker or officer of the “peace”—-comes along? One who won’t conform to our preferred psychological mold? One who’s had the unpleasant opportunity to observe, firsthand, the effects of what a mere few months of covert torture have wrought upon one of our victims, and seeks answers that aren’t immediately forthcoming? One who hasn’t had the opportunity to accept a sizable “donation” and promise of “protection” from us to keep the ball rolling in our favor? Well, that’s the outsider who’s kept completely out of the loop. We’re already too big for a lone wolf. Let them get suspicious and sniff around and attempt to level the playing field by investigating the inconsistencies in our system. Who cares, really?

And anyway, that’s when we shrug and scratch our nuts and grin, and “pass the blame” if it comes down to that. We’ve done it already; we’ll do it again.

And dare I say it? Why not! A busybody outsider who can just as easily get targeted next? We have our tried and true methods for identifying and investigating those who will or will not see things our way, well ahead of time. You literally would not believe the size and weight of this scumbag pile of ours.

Let’s be serious, folks. We’ve been doing this behind society’s back for several decades. We can seduce some gullible fool right off the street to assist us in poisoning a total stranger, just because we showed the fool a badge. We’ll tell him, “Look, you’ve got to help us take down this terrorist, look, here’s his picture, look, there he is now, here, drop this pill in his coffee, here you go, God bless you.” The three out of four fools who help us poison a total stranger are ours. The fool who won’t bite is a throwaway. We enlist the patriotic duty of the big, gullible fool who will believe what we say without our having to drudge up some silly old antiquated “burden of proof” notion. Proof just gets in the way, slows us down, slows down our fool.

Don’t you trust us to lead you in the right direction? Sure you do! Look at all we’ve done for you so far in this great and prosperous land of the free! How’s that piece of pie, Whitey?

For even the very elect shall be deceived, if that were possible. Now there’s a cute little Bible verse! And I’m telling you, it sure is possible. We’re extremely thorough. We’ll sell you your own freedom, if you’d only grant us the honor of stealing it back so we can sell it to you again. We already have, and we’ll do it again. Yeah, the same useless bill of rights. Really! Wanna buy it? Cheap!

Do you truly need another example of just how far we’ve gone? No, really, I don’t mind. I’m getting paid by the hour.

I’m sure you notice times when it looks like somebody’s caught us slipping up, you know, some loudmouth kook with this conspiracy theory or that, and the old kook is so convincing that he starts you wondering, “What the hell’s going on?” and you find yourself talking to your TV like a loon, asking it, “Why aren’t the all the dots connecting? Why is this new information seemingly condemning the actions of the military or the administration or the intelligence agency that’s supposed to be overseeing national security and protecting my rights?”

Well, that’s just us behind the scenes again, tacitly telling the soon-to-be-deceived-again, “Yes, we know that you know that we’re a bunch of filthy murdering sneaky little devils. And I admit, we’re unconscionably sloppy, because we’re assholes. But so what? Our employers own the owners of the news media! Besides, we know that the most any of you statistically and inevitably conscripted losers out there will ever do—-in your typical, shortsighted, reactionary fashion—-is mouth off, from the worthless urbanity of your impoverished predicament, about things you can never prove because we intentionally placed them out of your reach decades ago. And I’m sure you realize that all of this unsubstantiated blathering of yours still sounds like a broken record and always makes you look like one of those kooky conspiracy-theory nuts. Right?”

But usually it never even gets that far. We always try to appeal to society’s dark side first, the side that always wants to be right, the side that craves the spotlight, that wants a villain cast as a foil to society’s role as hero. You know how much you love discrediting that villain, the one who’s had enough time flying high at your expense. You want to knock him right off his high horse. Knock them all out of the spotlight one by one, so you can do your little victory jig in your underwear in front of the TV. Yeah, that’s right, goddamn it, it’s your turn now, isn’t it! How dare they in the first place?

Here, let us help you out with that. We’ll pit the liberals against the conservatives and the conservatives against the liberals, and the whites against the blacks and the blacks against the Mexicans, and get them all against the fuckin’ Asians ’cause they think they’re so smart, those dog-eating savages, and don’t forget the goddamned queers, all you stalwart Christians out there, and the fuckin’ Muslims and the fuckin’ Jews and the fuckin’ blah blah blah, and round and round it goes, and all you have to do, Society, is sit back and bask in the spotlight whenever it’s your appointed time to point your finger and shine! And you can be entertained and feel like Big Dog with the Pointing Finger of God any old time you want to tune in just to see how we’re handling your account. And do we ask for thanks? Nah, don’t mention it!

We’ve so totally corrupted and consumed the lines of communication in society that we can march right in front of the TV camera and tell everyone, “Look! We’re a bunch of filthy murdering devils! Everybody cheer!” And you’ll all cheer as we take your children from you and go marching over to one of our own surreptitiously incited bonfires out there in some godforsaken part of the world and murder a few thousand people, blow ’em all up and mow ’em all down, theirs and ours, who cares, right in front of the world’s undying eye. And then we’ll stand around and shrug and tell all those conspiracy nuts, “Oh come on! You don’t really believe that we would incite such a thing, and even if we did, that it wasn’t incited for your own best interests! Anyhow, look, see? Nobody saw our hands moving when it all started; you only saw our hands move when you saw us pointing our collective Finger of God at that tyrant-puppet we propped up a long time ago and no longer support, and you’re all as tired of him as we are now, right? Besides, he’s a terrorist, and a pedophile and a drug dealer too! Hey-hey, what do you say? Aren’t we ripe for another primetime skirmish?”

You’ve got to understand something: we’re not crazy. We’re EVIL. And we’re damned good at being evil. I mean, forget about a few decades. We’ve been perfecting the art of scumminess since Eden. At least, that’s what our deranged, self-righteous belief system has convinced us to claim. That’s a long time to prepare and get things just right! And “Evil” is a word that’s getting more popular, more attractive, more sexy, every day. It’s a multibillion-dollar industry, Evil is. Evil is “in.” Evil is the new Good! You think Evil was big yesterday? Shit, all we had for you yesterday was some baby-raping fag performing “futuristic pop” white-face minstrel shows just to razzle and dazzle you and seduce you into a primer’s course on how to overlook Satanic Dubiousness. But today . . .

Ah, today we have real-life online interactive torture games! Games that any retarded gangbanger worth his worthless cajones can tie into with the press of a button, which conveniently is just about his level of tech expertise. We have games that are equipped to override and alter your thinking patterns with extremely sophisticated subliminal inducements toward our way of thinking. We’re transforming your children into robotized, bloodthirsty Manchurian Candidates. With your help!

Why tell you this? We give you this knowledge merely for the purpose of flaunting our invincibility among our emotionally retarded colleagues. Corporate morale! We do so love to flex. Our minions complain less when we let them preen and posture among themselves. We’re tribal, like chimpanzees. And we do so love flinging our feces at an audience! My, just think how many evil retards out there will be standing in line to sign up, after a display like that!

We’ve developed much more than a mere considerable following of supporters. As of this morning, according to this sign-up sheet, we’ve recruited your sister, your nephew, your grandmother, your beat cop, that landscaping crew you hired last month—-all of them!—-and the supermarket geek who got you that half-pound of potato salad two days ago.

. . . Let’s see, we’ve got your 3rd grader’s teacher, those two new Mexican construction workers over on Main Street who are always catcalling the passing women . . .

. . . Those three Filipino social workers, down at the welfare office—-those three are all related, by the way. We have the occasional pleasure of recruiting multiple family members in one shot. We take special pride in hiring immigrants who hail from countries that were pretty heavy into human rights violations. These are the folks who are ripe and ready for the old “our turn on top” programming.

And remember, all we had to do in order to deceive all of these witless cads into helping us is tell them one simple lie about our chosen targets. This one’s a drug addict prostitute, that one is a child molester, this one over here is an atheist-communist . . . Yeah, that last trigger still works in this floundering society! And look, that other one over there is a “fill in the blank with any combination of the above behind-the-back unproven accusations.”

Ta-da!

Face it. Our influence is everywhere in society. If you’re reading this and saying to yourself, “Oh, please, how far are we going with this psychotic tumble into paranoid delusion? Into this Orwellian sci-fi flight of fancy?” then we’ve definitely succeeded in deceiving you into thinking that it’s all a figment of someone else’s imbalanced imagination. So, basically, for sure, we’re definitely getting away with murder. Among other trivialities.

Observe how we rearrange the initially healthy critical thinking patterns of a naive, oblivious general public:

“Well gosh, ladies and gents! We’re no angels! But who is? We do what we have to do in order to secure your freedoms and pleasures for you, our cherished tax-paying citizens! Actually, we’re only doing what you’ve hired us to do! Peace out!”

There, you see, in a way, that’s kind of true. Sort of true . . . Well, so what if it’s a nasty half-truth . . . Or maybe a bald-faced lie. We’re really only in it to gain complete control over your wussy society of complacent has-beens.

Or we can twist it another way. What, you think we weren’t prepared to twist it?

“Now folks, with us in charge, every one of you wonderful, noble, tax-paying citizens won’t ever have to worry about somebody else  trying to disrupt the system we’ve assembled to ensure our success in controlling your perception of freedom!”

Hey, I know for a fact that a large percentage of you sidled up to Jack Nicholson’s character in “A Few Good Men.” Give us a salute, stiff-necks! Is that murderous treason in your pocket, or are you just happy to see another treasonous murderer?

Allow me to twist the knife ever more precisely, sans quotation:

Any society that is so gutless, spineless, and mindless as to allow a more intellectually cunning and power-hungry entity to manipulate and control its thinking—-to the point of minimizing its thinking to a state of bland conformity to a fork-tongued media installed and utilized to divide and conquer it with compartmentalizing doubletalk—-deserves to be manipulated and controlled by that entity.

So you see, we’re not exactly intellectually superior; we just have the inside track on evil. And although one might argue that it takes a superior kind of manipulative cunning to be a successful psychopath, we do try to avoid your basic argumentative challenge, because we would be pitifully trounced in an honest debate.

That’s why we do our dirty work in the shadows. Hell-Oo!

Not to mention the fact that we really do have some retarded motherfuckers on our crew; hence the nearly desperate desire to avoid any and all scrutiny. The less analysis the better.

And we sure as hell are malevolently superior. And if you read your Good Book like a good little angel, like you’re supposed to—-that’s right, stick your Pinocchio nose all the way down into the book—-it’ll tell you that these “end times” were meant to be manipulated and controlled by us. So you’d best keep your dainty little hands off the dirty work, kids. Leave that to the professionals!

That’s it, keep your head down, there’s a darling. Keep reading the Good Book. Repeat after me: “That’s life, darling.” “You can’t fight City Hall.” “Father Knows Best.” Cliché it to death, I always say. “Think of the children!”

In our last little meeting of the mindless, I explained to you all about the manner in which my colleagues and I have installed—-under society’s oblivious nose—-the means by which we can and do torture and destroy any and all opposition to our Demonic takeover with sundry forms of electronic tech weaponry and incessant surveillance. Just to remind you, one of our favorite and most effective “tools of the trade” has been the toxic microwave irradiation of carefully selected and isolated targeted citizens. And the reason we have been so successful with this form of slow and silent assassination is that we have combined its use with our age-old tactical strategy of organized stalking. You see, the idea is to drive our selected target absolutely insane—-or at the very least, to make it seem to others that the target is insane—-with covert psychological terrorism. This is what organized stalking accomplishes. And by then we will already be in perfect position to commence the electronic torture part of the scheme with no difficulty at all.

Or we can zap ‘em first and drive ‘em nuts later. Whatever. It’s our ballgame. Our rules. We get to decide who’s on the menu, and how best to play with our food. Child’s play! We keep it simple, for the convenience of all our knuckleheads. Hey, nobody’s ever going to accuse us of being rocket scientists. That’s an entirely separate department.

But that’s enough of trying to describe ourselves to you. Hell, it almost feels like I’m trying to justify what we’re doing to a feckless hunk of bought-and-sold salted pork like you. I’ve suddenly tired of you all. Sign up now. Or die.

 

 

2015 Paul Sylvester Stayton