Good news was delivered on Christmas Eve: “An anonymous government source has revealed that the lord has been kidnapped by the murderous Lion of Baghdad!” So the lord was still alive! Sure, he was in the clutches of a lion, but what’s a little danger to a lord?
Still, he had to be rescued. So, instead of saving money and declaring war, President Angel asked questions and encouraged his citizens to speak to their lord and ask him if he is unhappy living with the Lion of Baghdad. The lord told them he was happy enough, but skeptics rightly suspected that he had been brainwashed, so the government authorized studies to determine if lions are trustworthy. The nation’s top scientists quickly published this concise report, “Our research show that not only lions but all wild animals are lazy opportunists and the most wicked thieves and murderers.”
Amerikans were scandalized. Zoos were closed. Mickey Mouse was shot. The reality show Dancing with Wolves was cancelled. Amerikan police officers hunted down and ate all the bunnies, fawns, raccoons, rats and other pests{6} that steal crops and inflict other harms to our economy. Meanwhile, in the remote state of Iran, the Lion of Baghdad refused to share Lord FreeLuv with his multitude of fans. This was unjustified greed on an unprecedented scale! Amerikans cried for their brothers and sisters in Iran. Riots exploded on the streets. Something had to be done. The Amerikan Canine Control Organization released charcoal drawings proving that the Lion of Baghdad possessed, in contravention of international treaties, both canines and claws. Now President Angel could no longer dither. Now he vowed to rescue every last Iranian. Now he dispatched his nation’s best lion tamers to Iran. They were air-dropped on an abandoned village in a desert. While vultures circled above, they prayed for water, so the all-merciful God sent them a small herd of camels. Unfortunately, those uneducated morons thought camels were sick cows, so they slaughtered them.
While the lion tamers watched the water seep out of the dead camels, the notorious Serpent of Baghdad laughed and asked, “What are you damn rabbits doing in the middle of a desert?”
“Mighty serpent,” answered one polite Amerikan, “we came to teach a lion some manners. Please direct us to his lair.”
“With pleasure. But how do you plan to defeat him?”
The lion tamers laughed and beamed with confidence as they showed off their amazing dentistry kits. The Serpent of Baghdad remarked, “The lion is in big trouble. Follow me, oh great and brave Amerikans! But, when you’re done with him, I would be honored if you attended to me and filled my cavity,” he said and showed a pair of fangs that were far too long.
The lion tamers blithely followed the cunning, deceptive snake into a barren gully. After it slithered up a barren tree, it told them to wait patiently below.
That night, thunder raged in the mountains. Rain flooded the streams, roared down the slopes and washed out the gullies. In the morning, half of the Amerikan lion tamers and dentists lay downstream, swinging from tree branches from which they would be rescued by scary, unshaven natives.
Meanwhile, because our dentists were overseas, Amerika suffered a pandemic of tooth decay, so a lot of formerly useless people became dentists and the economy flourished. However, I was supposed to tell you about something even more important. Oh yes, during the lord’s absence, the economy was paralyzed as the nation was seized by one terrorist incident after another. Iranian lions were not the problem; Amerika was being terrorized by harmful fungi, viruses, bacteria, mosquitoes, rats, bed bugs, snakes, and the notorious Black Poodle Gang—who are not to be confused with the equally fearsome Black Panthers and Terrible Terriers. Everyone prayed for help and, a week later, President Angel cried a puddle. Afterwards, he texted this impatient message to God, “What the Hell are you waiting for, Armageddon? Send the fucking messiah and tell him to save our asses from the Black Poodles!”
God instantly replied, “LFL just returned from a little vacation in Arizona. He’s the bravest man I know. Call him asap!”
Angel reluctantly dialed seven zeros. When the lord answered, the president cried, “Save me! Save Amerika! The Black Poodles are terrorizing us!”
“Angel? Is that you?”
“Chuckie, listen to me, nothing can stop them except your unbelievable luv!”
“Sorry, my luv is too precious to waste on your poodles. Besides, I’m all dried up.”
“Please! Pretty please!”
“I’m very sorry, but I’m pooped out. Besides, I’ve had it with Amerika. I’m going on a vacation with the sun, beaches and hot babes of Iran.”
“You damn traitor! Get your ass over here!”
“Okay, let me check my schedule.” Silence. “Oh, look at that. You’re in luck. I have time in the year 3000.”
A note of desperation crept into Angel’s voice: “Chuckie, you heartless bastard! Do you know how many citizens have been ruined by those long-toothed Black Poodles? I need citizens to pay my taxes and buy my shit!”
“You mean my shit.”
“That’s what I said.”
“No, you said it’s your shit.”
“My shit, your shit, isn’t it the same thing?”
“Really? I didn’t know. So, what do you want?”
“I need a messiah who can kill murderous poodles in fierce battles!”
“The Messiah? Why me?”
“Everyone else is dying of smallpox, polio, diphtheria and diarrhea. So, do you want this volunteer job or not?”
“Wow, it is tempting. Gee, I guess I could try. The messiah, huh? I used to squash beetles between my teeth. But, what’s in this dangerous mission for me, Mister P-r-e-s-i-d-e-n-t?”
“You’ll be the messiah! What more do you want?”
Chuck looked up at the sky.
“Okay, fine, if you succeed, I’ll make you the president of A–”
“YAHOO!” cried the excited fool. Chuck needed no further encouragement to take on the intimidating job of the Amerikan Messiah. So, the biggest contract in history was signed.
The following morning, Messiah Bollocks was officially debriefed. Voluminous police files on the notorious Black Poodles revealed that they stole bones from the cemeteries and attacked pet shops and that, in lean years, they ate citizens. But they were cunning liars, too. Recently, in a widely watched court case, the Black Poodle leader, Poop Dog, told the presiding judge, “Why do you persecute us? We are dogs, and dogs must eat meat. Besides, Nature is cannibalistic. Just reflect on the fact that we are all breathing and eating the atoms that were once part of the body of George ‘Jesus Christ’ Washington.”
“That is true,” the judge admitted, “but we must draw a distinction between eating insensate atoms and sensate citizens. Only bankers, merchants and politicians are permitted to prey on citizens and control population growth until robots replace the entire working class.”
The judge sentenced a dozen Black Poodles to the wilderness, and they thanked him and said they needed a change and were sick in city life. Soon, other Poodles were committing murders just so they could be charged and sentenced to life in the wilderness.
Messiah Bollocks needed help, so President Angel put the entire military and police at the messiah’s disposal. But the damn fool didn’t want help! He sent them home and said, “I will not resort to violence! I will go postal, for the mail is mightier than the machine gun.”
This was foolish idealism. But he insisted and wrote this letter:
Dear Black Poodles, please stop killing and eating our cash cows. Every taxpayer and sucker is sacred meat reserved for the immortals. Please respect the Constitution and get legitimate jobs.
I laughed my head off. “They’ll never respect your pacifist daydreams, so here, take this anthrax and sprinkle it on each of your letters. That will give you the results you want.”
“I like your advice, but my policy is to mail love letters to my enemies. I just love sending them letters and boxes of chocolates, too.”
“I hope your love kills them.”
The following day, thousands of boxes of heart-shaped chocolates were delivered to the Black Poodles. I guess Chuck didn’t know that chocolate can kill dogs. Imagine his surprise when his enemies started dying and blamed his gifts, but the torrent of love and chocolate and death continued. The Poodles and other affected gangs declared war on the postal service, and thousands of innocent mailmen perished on the streets.
President Angel panicked. To save his beloved postal service, he swore, cursed, and finally commanded Messiah Bollocks to “use the goddamn internet!” The damn fool refused. “The internet is too cold and impersonal.” Well, how else did he expect to save lives? So, you know what he did? The damn fool paid a personal visit to the chief psychopaths of the Black Poodles, Mister Poop Dog. They met in the dining room where Poop Dog was devouring a rabbit carcass with a huge silver fork and knife.
Messiah Bollocks affectionately rubbed Poop Dog’s head and commented, “You’re not a real carnivore, are you?”
“I’m not?” Poop growled and scowled.
“Nope. A real carnivore would bite my arm, tear off the meat and swallow it without cooking or chewing. Can you do that?”
Poop tried biting a strip of flesh from the messiah’s neck and, even though the messiah did not resist, he failed miserably.
“Consider yourself lucky,” Messiah Bollocks said.
“Why am I lucky?” Poopie asked as he wiped the taste of the messiah from his lips.
“You’ll catch cancer from my meat. I’m carcinogenic. My mother used to say that if I want to be strong and healthy, I should eat organic shit. Never cared much for that advice,” Messiah Bollocks said as he ordered a sweet bunnyburger and an extra-huge soda.
“You saying I’m not strong and healthy?” Poopie demanded with a threatening tone.
“I only meant that you could be even stronger and even healthier,” Bollocks explained. Then he squeezed Poopie’s hand and added, “I only share my knowledge with those whom I love.”
Poop Dog dropped his knife and fork, for he had never been loved before. In an embarrassing display of gratitude, he kissed Messiah Bollocks, thanked him for showing him the light, and told all his fellow gangsters to become vegetarian or to live like true carnivores, wild and free in the forests, without pots, plates and cutlery. They chased their prey for many days before perishing of exhaustion. Those who became vegetarians died within a day or two of malnutrition, for as the world knows, vegetarianism is suicide, and veganism is much worse.
The Black Poodle plague was over. Peace-loving Amerikans were overjoyed.
But the war did not stop. Thanks to the Messiah’s message, people saw the world differently and stopped looking at their pets with puppy eyes. Now they accused faithful pets of living like parasitic royals and welfare cases while they, their poor owners, lived like peasants and servants. Angry pet owners even threatened to excommunicate, evict, eat, beat or sell pets who didn’t get jobs or start feeding themselves. Suddenly the streets were full of puppies, cats, rats, hamsters, panda bears and other exotic animals—all begging for handouts and peddling drugs, gods, and credit.
According to the Hollywood Bible, long before Bollocks defeated the Black Poodles, Noah & Sons conquered the wild dinosaurs, Abraham & Sons defeated the wicked sabre-tooth tigers, Moses & Associates buried the pesky cobras, Jonas devoured an invasion of caterpillars, Jesus starved our fat cats, and Muhammad annihilated his head lice. Yet the prophets had not completed their work. Even after the extermination of the notorious Black Poodles, grave threats loomed over Amerika, and none was graver than the Mosquito Gang. They buzzed in Washington D.C. every night, and during the day they spread diseases like cancer, malaria, and autism.
Who would save the nation? Even the nation’s priests and preachers tucked in their tails and fled from those flying devils. Only Messiah Bollocks was fearless, but his methods were open to question. Learning nothing from past experience, he again tried to defeat the enemy with luv. So, he tied himself to the great monument standing near the White House and called all the nation’s mosquitoes to drink his blood to their heart’s content. A great swarm assailed and nearly drained all of his blood. After a gruesome hour, emergency crews took his body down and revived him with blood transfusions.
The following day, Messiah Bollocks was properly debriefed about the nature of the Mosquito Gang, and the nation’s Chief of Swamps offered this amazing strategy: “There’s only one way to deal with these pests. I say we poison all our public water with chlorine, fluoride and anthrax. That will kill them!”
“I couldn’t disagree more,” retorted Messiah Bollocks. “Research shows that most violent crimes are committed because luv is lacking, so I remain determined to defeat the enemy with another demonstration of my amazing luv. However, I have learned one lesson: I need help defeating the Mosquito Gang.”
“Very well,” said President Angel. “I hereby award you the perfect weapon.” He handed the messiah his Golden Fly Swatter. He accepted it with pride and bolted back into the battlefield. His arms took turns whipping through the air like a windmill. Hours later he collapsed in an exhausted heap and called on every fly swatter in Amerika to join him on the battlefield. Millions accepted the challenge. Blood splattered the nation. It was a spectacular war, but after months of swatting, the national incidence of mosquito attacks was the same and the swat team lost interest.
An exciting, new solution was needed. Fortunately, scientists figured out that male mosquitoes suck trees and female mosquitoes lay their eggs in fishless, stagnant water, so the president instructed Messiah Bollocks to chop down all the trees and drain all the swamps. Military Solutions Corp was contracted to provide assistance. While Messiah Bollocks knocked down the nation’s trees with artillery, MS Corp’s engineers moved all the water in Washington’s swamps to Florida. This seemed like genius until the rains began and the enemy returned with a vengeance. Frustrated, MS Corp took the president’s advice and sprayed Agent Orange all over Washington. Then victory was almost instantaneous. The Mosqueito Gang lost its mojo and its breeding grounds, so, naturally it fucked off to Canada.
Messiah Bollocks’ received all the credit for the dramatic victory and for the subsequent decline in the death rate caused by bad water and mosquitoes. The papers praised him for masterminding operation Pest Control. Everyone admired him except his stepfather Damn, who visited him while he was nursing his wounds. “Kid, I know you’re enjoying your fame, but you listen to me a moment. This poodle and mosquito business is unmanly! It’s pure sissiness.”
“Damn, do you know who I am?”
“Uh, no.”
“I am the messiah!”
“What’s that?”
Chuck prayed aloud, but God wasn’t in the mood, God told him to shut up, and when he refused—then God punished Chuck with a fresh swarm of mosquitoes.
Damn nodded knowingly, stared at the lines on his hand and sighed, “Chuck, the joke’s over, okay? The whole country is losing respect for you. No one’s interested in your stunts.”
“You want me to buy the farm?”
“There’s honor in honest work.”
“Is that so? Then why didn’t you let me star in DIY Sex on cable TV?”
Damn laughed, “Amerikans don’t need your help in that department. They’re having so much great sex that they’ve even lost interest in porn. Seriously, Chuck, this is serious. What are you going to do with your life and your luv? How long will you waste it? Isn’t it time to marry and get a job where you can use your luv productively?”
Chuck opened his mouth to speak, blew hot air instead, and finally decided to tell Damn the truth. “Don’t worry,” he whispered in Damn’s ear, “I got a job in the CIA. We’re gonna blow up the nation’s power plants and electrical substations. Once we have a nation-wide lights-out, we’re gonna blow up all the gas stations and have a nation-wide month-long holiday to make Amerika the best place on Earth. Robots and foreign job thieves will stop working! We’ll all get our jobs back—me included!”
“Very funny. And what if I like being unemployed?”
In the awkward silence that followed, President Angel flew into the conference room, congratulated the invincible Messiah Bollocks and reluctantly admitted, “Thanks to your sensational feats, Amerikans want me to promote you to the presidency, and I’m so sick of this nonsense that I’m finally going to grant you the honor,” he grumbled, paused and grinned. “I hereby promote you to President of the United Simpletons and Stagers of Idiotic Entertainments official, otherwise known as the PUSSIE.”
“Congratulations, kiddo!” Damn cried, slapping his friend on the back.
“Thanks, Damn. But, what are PUSSIEs supposed to do?”
President Angel answered as if he were Damn: “Oh, Chuck, that’s simple. Just inspire old people like your father to work for Amerika and make Amerika productive again.”
Chuck thought it over. “I guess I could try. I might have the perfect song for the job. It was inspired by my iGod. Wait, I’ll sing it for you.” Chuck leapt into action, did his patented dance and sang into the microphone for all of Happy Hour, the daily kids’ program:
Hey, everybody, listen up!
If you wanna be somebody,
Fuck your job and fuck your boss!
Pay attention! Multitask!
Stroke his hair, squeeze him there,
Do his job until he sings:
“Boohoo, I just can’t get enough of you!”
Working, working, working all night long!
The new economy is so much fun!
If it feels like all pain and no gain,
Don’t take it personally,
Learn to love the cross,
’Cause everybody, everyyyybodyyy
Is getting nailed (and screwed) by the boss.
Yo bro, hey sis!
Everybody love the new economy
Of minimal mental activity!
We tend a fine assembly line,
And shake our ass from nine to ninety-nine!
That’s how we raise the Gross Domestic Penis!
With the rhythm of the fucktory,
We improve our productivity!
Forget your stupid families,
Bosses are the men you need,
Godlike men, high above,
They look down with so much love.
Hey everybody, if you want kids,
Get to fucking work!
Let’s see some productivity!
Children are the spawn of
Government and industry:
All our children are their property,
So don’t worry,
Just feed the all-devouring economy!
Do your jobs and you won’t burn;
Nice stuff you’ll earn:
Plus stops at sexy shops,
And gifts like plastic kids!
Oh, life is perfectly heavenly
In the Fucking Economy!
Thank God Amerikans had no sense of irony and considered anything that rhymed simply sublime, and that’s how it should be, for poetry is the lingo of God, and the rhythm and rhyme can move the universe and inspire workers and shoppers to work and shop harder than those fucking Olympians.
PUSSIE produced and directed countless pro-work movies that were carefully crafted to inspire millions of lazy-asses to work for the greater economy. These movies featured hard-working movie start and celebrities who loved paying debts and bills and worshipped the Great Economy seven days a week. In the inspirational blockbusters as Captain Amerika, a CEO convinced all the world’s gods to promote and buy such products as Jehovah’s Crumbs, Allah’s Foot Baths, Brahma’s Holy Milk, Buddha’s Beef, and … well, you get the idea. Thanks to this amazing marketing strategy, people who had formerly stopper participating in the economy become active again and happily swim and splash in the Sea of Debt.
Star Works, another theatrical hit, was a moving tale about how Alexander the Great turned the Greek economy into a colossus that conquered markets from Europe to India. His grueling marches inspired the entire ancient world to work harder at making statues that do nothing but stare. Alexander had many visions about how to make books support the economy, so he wrote books about a hard-working carpenter, fisherman, tax-collector and a conqueror named—you guessed it—Alexander the Great Worker.
Hollywood also produced Saving Caesar, a timeless classic in which a workaholic named Julius Caesar becomes the most popular butcher in Rome. He’s such a talented bread winner that he becomes a cult hero, and his jealousy brother accuses him of not paying his taxes. Julius admitted that he had forgotten to pay them in 61 AD, and for this sin he asked to be crucified by the Jewish god of taxes.
In Corporate Wars, God promises the secret formula for the perfect beer to his favorite corporation, He-Brew Beers, owned and operated by Joshua Brothschild. For a few years the Brothschild family produces bliss for all workers and slaves, but when the family business is inherited by the faithless, lazy, non-practicing Jew, Judas Rothschild, the holy formula is stolen by a Roman merchant who changes the formula before selling it back to Judas. Thereafter, He-Brew Beers tastes like Christian vomit and the family business is destroyed.
In the sequel, A Thousand Saviors, Amerikan citizen Johnny JC Rockefeller uses dogged determination to rise from joblessness and found Holy Shit Incorporated. It revolutionizes the drug industry. It develops Eumerika!, a drug derived from the blood of negroes, the most energetic, selfless and cheerful people on Earth. Johnny hires twelve marketers to promote Eureka! as a cure for sloth, greed and fear of debt. Converts love it. Addicts love it. And Johnny loves it because now, whenever workers demand more, he gives them free bottles of Eureka! and presto, they apologize for their greed and sacrifice everything for the company and the government, often asking for lower wages and higher taxes, sacrificing kidneys and hearts to their bosses, even asking to be nailed to the cross of unemployment so that others can live and be happy. It was truly the most inspiring movie.
In The Book Club the hero saves Amerikans from a crippling addiction to reading foreign books. Afflicted adults quit good jobs and waste all their time and money reading books. The government issues public mental health warnings against reading, but the foreign books are so dangerous that most Amerikans can’t control the irresistible urge to dive into danger. Luckily, Principal Dee starts a nation-wide anti-reading program that is so effective it saves the world. Curiously, his program relies heavily on seven books that accuse all other books of being full of godless bullshit, devilish boredom and useless crap.
The Revolutionary Slaves tells the inspirational biography of the Slave family. The movie begins by showing how this incredible family survives a genocidal Hell in Africa. Deprived of the true religion, devils rule the land and turn it into a worthless desert. The Slaves escape, sail across the Atlantic Ocean and discover Heaven in Amerika. The angels who rule the land give them a piece of paradise, but they don’t have the skills to maintain it, famine begins, so they pray and God answers their prayers, for at the last minute they are saved from starvation by President Chuck Bollocks. The movie ends with the Slave children bringing bags of refined luv back to Africa, where their luv produces the greatest economic miracle ever recorded.
Thanks to these and other inspirational films on economic themes, Amerikans once again did their duties and the Amerikan economy boomed like a cannon in wartime. So what if a few actors, actresses, producers and directors committed suicide? Who said Hollywood and an Amerikan PUSSIE can’t do any good?
After resurrecting Amerika, Chuck asked for the ultimate promotion. Angel smiled, “Chuck, I know you have presidential ambitions, but what would you do for the economy that I haven’t already tried?”
“You think I haven’t thought this through? For starters, I’d revamp our flag! Stars and strippers are out of fashion. I prefer a flag with a far greater variety of shapes and colors. Something that will stop and make people think.”
“Like a religious flag?”
“The most religious flag is invisible, for our immaculate God is invisible!”
“You stupid genius! If we fly invisible flags, our enemies will think we don’t exist. Got any other harebrained shit in your noggin?”
“Sure! Listen, I’m gonna perform miracles! For Amerika I will perform the instant food miracle, the walking on the moon miracle, and the fiat and fractional reserve banking miracles! And to fight unemployment and poverty, I’ll grant everyone the right to invent their own money. No counterfeiting! Only innovation will be allowed. If people like your money, you will profit. This is only fair. Governments and banks should not have monopolies on money creation. That’s not fair competition. Anyway, our money is boring! I’ll create digital money with videos of porn stars. Who would be able to resist that?”
The president looked like he’d seen death.
“Relax, Angel old buddy. I was kidding. As president, this is what I’ll do to eradicate turn Amerika in to paradise! First, I’ll condemn every welfare case to one of those off-the-grid, neo-native nudist reservations where everyone eats weeds and insects. I’ll put all the poor, unemployed, sick and tired people in them. That way they won’t be a burden to this great country. We’ll save billions! And as soon as I turn those reservations into profitable, government-owned, tourist attractions, we’ll make billions from them, too!”
“I see. Wait, what the Hell is a neo-native nudist reservation?!”
“Well, I don’t quite know. They’re all over Australia, Arizona, Nicaragua and South Africa. I think they’re like summer camps full of primitive sex, weird music, deranged mental patients and giant mushrooms! Maybe you’d like to visit one?”
President Angel envisioned the end of the global economy and reeled in horror. At his command, his nurses rushed him away and Hollywood, the CIA, USBS, and the Bullshit Broadcasting Corporation started an anti-Bollocks smear campaign. Various, anonymous sources claimed that Chuck was lazy, afraid of homosexuals, and terrified of junk food. He even published videos and photographs of Chuck spending his nights playing naked in children’s playgrounds and forgetting to wipe all the seats and swings he fouled with his ass.
In any other country such stories would have shamed God himself, but Angel had forgotten that Amerika loved all manner of deviants, weirdos and perverts.