I got a letter from the government, like last week. I opened and read it; it said they were suckers. That's actually all it said. "Dear Chuck, This letter is for you. We are suckers. --The Government" I don't speak legalese, but I read through the violence and doubletalk. It's obvious what they wanted. They wanted me in their army.
Now, I want to frame this correctly, so you understand. I am getting this letter in a mail system that seems to deliver 40 pieces of corporate junk for every legitimate letter. So picture me opening this single, shining hope of mine, in this letter, and it is a cryptic allusion to joining the army. Or whatever. I'm not even really sure. I want you to picture me caring about their army, to picture me as a Marine, because I had received this letter. Visualize me caring.
Because this is false. Rather, I denied, and I said "Never." Actually I didn't say anything. It was an empty room. What was the point of saying anything in a room that is empty? But I was amazed at this development. Here is a land that never gave a damn, about a black male like myself and, frankly, never has, and they
are asking me to kill and die for them?
Oh readers, the shock and amusement of this situation gave way to befuddlement, just as the order of society may give way to chaos at mere hints of the unexpected. As I denied the governmental request more formally in writing, just as I placed it into the bedreaded Mail Slot, it occurred to me, that this was not just a request, but a demand, backed by authority. I was confused. How could a government have authority? I sure couldn't! Several weeks later, and only then, did I realize the full import of my denouncement of the aforementioned request, as I began to sweat, but in cold. You see, I was now being held in the cell at the state penitentiary. I do not know how long it has been, but as I write this letter I am beseiged by hallucinations, and thoughts of escape. But like many thoughts, that thought had been thought enough times as to make futile even the small effort of this thought. I, as the Prince Siddhartha did so many eons ago, begin a rebirth beneath the lotus tree of a looming electric chair. I'm not a fugitive, nor a criminal, for you see, my friends, the law is of the holistic reality as it presents itself, not of the prejudices of tiny men, tiny bureaucrats in tiny cages that they call civilizations, that they dare to call society. Is it so hard to understand why, from this hellscape of imprisonment, a black man would not desire to serve militarily for the wardens of this prison-complex country? Is that such a radical notion?
In this world of bargains and charlatans, a single raw deal is worth a lifetime of steel against the fraudulent shopkeeper. Justice is realized only through legalism, and only when theft is punishable by murder can we talk about justice. I have been thieved from by being sent into this gaol. Let me now pursue murder. But first escape.
Today I found a key, but unfortunately it was attached to a beautiful CO. Luckily, her neck, asleep, became attached to my hands in her neglect, and eventually her gun was attached to her head. Hence was my release from this cell. She did what I said so, and I began a journey which infuriated government snipers, the warden, and the CO who tried to escape. Yes, I shot her 2 times, reader. Unfortunately, there were only five COs available to kill now. There had been six; now there were five. One less than before, which saw six. Just five.
She was dead. She was very dead, and that meant where there had been a sixth CO when we counted the number of COs in the room, because of my two bullets, there were now only five. I can't stress this enough. Now for some reason there were eight. Eight COs. She was still dead, but now there were three more. I'm not exactly sure. Anyway, this is the revolutionary energy necessary for peace. Wait, where did you go? Now there are seven. Seven COs. Alright, open the closet, I think there is a revolving door of wardens playing games to confuse us. Maybe would I shot them all.
I shot them all, except for exactly five COs. First putting me in prison for refusing to go along with your insane draft, and now confusing me with an endless door of COs? Anyway, to allay my confusion, I shot another CO. Now the government was here. I was in physical danger, along with the others joining me whom I hadn't yet mentioned. We had enough force to instigate a prison riot, but we were basically stuck in this prison. Fortunately, the sky started to turn into steel. Wait, that is terrifying! Anyway, it is not just steel, but a number of militants who agree with my ideals. It is a helicopter being driven by them.
This helicopter in the sky, this S1W, this sexual sky-climber in the prison walls, comes to my rescue.
The first CO that I have slain in the course of my escape beckons with her ho-calls which I hear from hell in my dreams. Now the S1W turns into a woman and I feel endless guilt. Now the woman is a zeppelin, and we ride above the equator, man and woman, stopping crimes wherever we see them, and taking down governments that I feel don't deserve what they have. We're omnipotent now.
Now, I want to frame this correctly, so you understand. I am getting this letter in a mail system that seems to deliver 40 pieces of corporate junk for every legitimate letter. So picture me opening this single, shining hope of mine, in this letter, and it is a cryptic allusion to joining the army. Or whatever. I'm not even really sure. I want you to picture me caring about their army, to picture me as a Marine, because I had received this letter. Visualize me caring.
Because this is false. Rather, I denied, and I said "Never." Actually I didn't say anything. It was an empty room. What was the point of saying anything in a room that is empty? But I was amazed at this development. Here is a land that never gave a damn, about a black male like myself and, frankly, never has, and they
are asking me to kill and die for them?
Oh readers, the shock and amusement of this situation gave way to befuddlement, just as the order of society may give way to chaos at mere hints of the unexpected. As I denied the governmental request more formally in writing, just as I placed it into the bedreaded Mail Slot, it occurred to me, that this was not just a request, but a demand, backed by authority. I was confused. How could a government have authority? I sure couldn't! Several weeks later, and only then, did I realize the full import of my denouncement of the aforementioned request, as I began to sweat, but in cold. You see, I was now being held in the cell at the state penitentiary. I do not know how long it has been, but as I write this letter I am beseiged by hallucinations, and thoughts of escape. But like many thoughts, that thought had been thought enough times as to make futile even the small effort of this thought. I, as the Prince Siddhartha did so many eons ago, begin a rebirth beneath the lotus tree of a looming electric chair. I'm not a fugitive, nor a criminal, for you see, my friends, the law is of the holistic reality as it presents itself, not of the prejudices of tiny men, tiny bureaucrats in tiny cages that they call civilizations, that they dare to call society. Is it so hard to understand why, from this hellscape of imprisonment, a black man would not desire to serve militarily for the wardens of this prison-complex country? Is that such a radical notion?
In this world of bargains and charlatans, a single raw deal is worth a lifetime of steel against the fraudulent shopkeeper. Justice is realized only through legalism, and only when theft is punishable by murder can we talk about justice. I have been thieved from by being sent into this gaol. Let me now pursue murder. But first escape.
Today I found a key, but unfortunately it was attached to a beautiful CO. Luckily, her neck, asleep, became attached to my hands in her neglect, and eventually her gun was attached to her head. Hence was my release from this cell. She did what I said so, and I began a journey which infuriated government snipers, the warden, and the CO who tried to escape. Yes, I shot her 2 times, reader. Unfortunately, there were only five COs available to kill now. There had been six; now there were five. One less than before, which saw six. Just five.
She was dead. She was very dead, and that meant where there had been a sixth CO when we counted the number of COs in the room, because of my two bullets, there were now only five. I can't stress this enough. Now for some reason there were eight. Eight COs. She was still dead, but now there were three more. I'm not exactly sure. Anyway, this is the revolutionary energy necessary for peace. Wait, where did you go? Now there are seven. Seven COs. Alright, open the closet, I think there is a revolving door of wardens playing games to confuse us. Maybe would I shot them all.
I shot them all, except for exactly five COs. First putting me in prison for refusing to go along with your insane draft, and now confusing me with an endless door of COs? Anyway, to allay my confusion, I shot another CO. Now the government was here. I was in physical danger, along with the others joining me whom I hadn't yet mentioned. We had enough force to instigate a prison riot, but we were basically stuck in this prison. Fortunately, the sky started to turn into steel. Wait, that is terrifying! Anyway, it is not just steel, but a number of militants who agree with my ideals. It is a helicopter being driven by them.
This helicopter in the sky, this S1W, this sexual sky-climber in the prison walls, comes to my rescue.
The first CO that I have slain in the course of my escape beckons with her ho-calls which I hear from hell in my dreams. Now the S1W turns into a woman and I feel endless guilt. Now the woman is a zeppelin, and we ride above the equator, man and woman, stopping crimes wherever we see them, and taking down governments that I feel don't deserve what they have. We're omnipotent now.
No comments:
Post a Comment