Once upon a time a very naughty Queen of England slept around with the Emperor of Japan, the King of Arabia, the Czar of Russia, the Chief of Namibia, the Fuhrer of Germany and many other foreign rascals. The scandal was published, the case went to the Supreme Court, and there the Queen proved that she was innocent of adultery because, in her words, *n*l sex isn’t really sex. Well, I’m inclined to agree, and so is British law since it refuses to mention that disgusting deed.
But God works in mischievous ways. Despite Queen Sisy Holywhore’s sexual misconduct, she miraculously conceived a child in her buttocks. As the royal slut grew conspicuously fat, she blamed anyone she could and even executed her chef, her royal farmers, her beef cattle and all her dairy cows, pigs, chickens, and even her only apple tree.
Although her girth and her appetite continued growing, her husband suspected nothing. So, I sent him a dream. At first he didn’t understand, then he didn’t believe, but after the third time he woke and jeered over his sleeping wife, “GOD KNOWS YOU CHEATED SO YOU’RE GOING TO HELL! WHO’S THE WINNER NOW? HAHA!”
She said, “This is Hell, you idiot! And thank God for Hell’s devils! At least they know how to make love!”
Dressed in pajamas, the royal witch flew to the local Masonic Lodge and flaunted the evidence of her adultery. Soon rumors started spreading. In a desperate effort at damage control, the Queen’s doctors told the public that the bulging monarch suffered from an obesity gene, but witnesses glimpsed movements in her bulbous buttocks and guessed an unborn child was struggling to escape through the Royal Gate, for the public believed royalty were too polite to possess genitals.
The King, meanwhile, launched an investigation into the suspicious circumstances surrounding the queen’s pregnancy. A hundred detectives were commissioned, but the evil queen used her potions to turn them into horny apes.
The whole nation was scandalized. The court priests tried to save the country by blaming the mysterious pregnancy on God. This greatly impressed the English people; but God was not pleased to be implicated in adultery, so the priests woke one day to find their genitals so enlarged they had to be executed for decency’s sake, for God’s sake, and for England’s sake.
Finally, on the greatest birthday in the history of the world, Queen Holywhore was liberated from her burden. While she was squatting, she gave birth to George “Jesus Christ” Washington, the child destined to be England’s first prince of love.
The boy’s curious divinely ordained career began one day while the royal family picnicked and little George sat like an angel under an ornamental tree, practicing his 2-times table so that the good prince might be well equipped to rule England. His education was proceeding fantastically well until Satan brought ruin and destruction to England. The evil one arrived in the form of a bunny. It emerged from the deepest pit of Hell, hopped to George’s side and, in Latin, invited him to come along for a pleasant stroll through the English wilderness. The naive young prince excitedly followed the beast. Once they were alone, Satan, still cunningly disguised as a fuzzy rodent, violently raped the boy prince, stole his heart, and forced him to eat a weeds powerful enough to turn angels into devils. Hours later, he walked home with a weird glow around his eyes.
George was no longer himself. In his madness, he prepared and ate raw salads of dandelion, purslane and nettle, and he ate without cutlery and assumed no one needed cutlery, so he gave the family’s golden utensils to the poor. Other sins included kissing dirty servant women and setting the royal horses free.
Obviously, the royals were scandalized. Queen Holywhore locked the possessed prince up in the Tower of Horrors and threatened to keep him there until he forgot his evil ways and learned to sing hymns and prayers. So, five times a day George sang love songs that made even the hardiest Englishman sick. As for food, after several bouts of vomiting, he learned to eat the food his father delivered: nutritious sugar loaf and lucky rabbit’s feet. For the boy’s mental health, he administered a daily bottle of wine and math problems.
One day, George decided he was a scientist and conducted a careful experiment on his cell’s door. He pushed it, kicked it and screamed at it, but it did not open. Then he turned the handle and pulled, and he was amazed, for it opened. He literally danced into a miserable English rain. He nearly raced back, but he wanted to make friends, so he knocked on hundreds of doors and shouted, “The Prince of England wishes to have tea with you!”
Invariably, shuttered flew open and someone shouted, “Get lost and get some clothes, you pervert!”
He was too proud to pray for help, but I told him that good British citizens do not harbor escaped convicts—even if they are princes. But do you think he respected the law? No. He thought himself above it, and instead of running back to his tower, he pissed on England’s doors, shit on England’s gardens and went home shouting insults at all of England.
At home, he continued his evil ways. On his 14th birthday, the King announced, “Your talents are wasted on England. We’re going to send you to India. Its lonely people need someone who can sing love songs. You’ll be famous in no time.”
George was beyond enthusiastic. His huge canoe was loaded for the voyage with a barrel of gin, sandwiches covered in butter, jams full of sugar, and four pregnant domestic animals. The canoe’s captain, Christopher Columbus, imagined Earth was spherical and thought he could arrive at his destination by paddling in any direction. Luckily for him and his passenger, God blew his canoe to the province of India known as Premerika, which was the land destined to become Amerika.
Premerika was a terribly uncivilized country. Its godless savages captured Christopher and forced him to be their homosexual slave, and they stole Prince George’s clothes and jewels and laughed at his white skin, blue eyes and blonde hair. They seriously thought he was a clown and they asked him to do stupid shit, and, being a prince of love, he never disappointed them.
Despite everything, George was confident he could civilize the natives, so he mastered the crude, native language of the land, a language which was, by the way, mostly a lot of hateful cuss and swear words. Then he composed love songs in the native tongue and five times a night and seven times on Sundays, he sang about God’s love. During his first night of singing, a gang known as the Bloody Thieves told him to shut up. He apologized, but as they staggered back to their beds, he sang after them, “I love you! I love you! I love you all, and everything you say and do only makes me love you more!”
In the morning, George approached his enemies as they were eating Christopher Columbus. Those gluttons wanted to eat George, too, but he quickly traced the heart-shaped symbol of eternal love on his breast and bravely kissed their fearsome leader, Chief Talking Bull, and whispered, “I will love you even more if you tell your men to bury their weapons.”
The chief pinched his meagre buttock and said, “These little utensils? But, then how will we carve your meat?”
“My friend, because I love you, I tell you, God did not create you to eat meat, and white meat is the worst.”
“Then what should we eat?”
Then Prince George tried to teach them to suck milk from cows, to graze on grasses, lick nectar from flowers and chew on raw sugar cane. The Bloody Thieves never laughed so hard, but when he persisted in teaching them they declared him mad from dehydration and gave him foul water to drink. That day, George caught beaver fever. Then imagined himself a beaver, fell in love with the whole beaver tribe and tried to impress them by scratching trees with his teeth. When his enemies pursued him, he swam to a beaver lodge and clung fast until the Bloody Thieves came with their ships, captured him, tied him to a log, towed him downstream and sent him floating across the Atlantic, to his fatherland.
Back in England, George told his parents about his incredible adventure: “It was an incredible adventure! But I am not done. The savages were just learning to love me. But they won’t accept me until I improve my hygiene. Could you give me soap and a bathtub? I’ll repay you with grandchildren as soon as I get the chance.”
Queen Holywhore gladly provided the requested tub and soap, while his good father added children’s books, a globe, a telescope, a bag of wheat, a teddy bear, a bouquet of flowers and a headstone. Then he went out with the tide, and time passed quickly as the prince played with all his toys.
After beaching back in Premerika, God’s pioneer of love built the now famous House of Love on the Potomac River. He built it around seven almond trees. When the local women came to eat his nuts, George charmed them, saying, “Welcome one and all the House of Love! Abandon your caves of stone and human bones! Be baptized in my bathtub under a roof of flowers and join me in worshipping the holy petroglyph!”
I warned him against giving the gift of love to beasts of prey, but he welcomed his enemies into his home and happily let them rape and abuse him while he did their beds, baked their bread and cooked their turkeys. This continued for months before the Gang of Thieves found George with their women.
“You scoundrel! You’re gonna get a whipping!” yelled the chief.
“Go ahead and whip me with the whip of love!” George retorted.
They decided against whipping him. Instead, they tied poor George to his headstone, loaded him into a giant catapult, and said, “We’re gonna send you to Heaven! When you meet your good papa above, please kindly tell him to stop sending your kind this way.”
George sang, “I know you don’t mean what you say. Deep down inside, you love me more than words can say.”
Then George went flying through the sky and made a splash. The Bloody Thieves were sure he would drown, but they’d misjudged how well English fat floats. George spent two nights marinating in the salty brine before floated back up the Potomac. Chief Talking Bull arrested him and dragged him to court, where George was accused of trespassing on another’s continent. After presenting no evidence of any crime except love, Chief Talking Bull sentenced George to eternal marriage to a giant beaver.
Of course, George blessed his enemies for giving him a chance to prove that he is God’s true pioneer of love. Then, for weeks, he sang love poems to the biggest beavers, but this scared them away and infuriated the Indians who depended on beavers for their milk, clothing and meat. So, they dragged George back into court and sentenced him to grind flour and bake bread. George obeyed, but George’s love for his enemies only intensified.
Once upon a time Satan noticed that God loved George more than He loved her. Satan stormed out of Heaven and plotted to make George into an ordinary sex slave. When Satan told George that his destiny was to be her personal sex slave, he was happy about it, so God told him he had a much higher destiny and put the seed of his power in a mighty barrel-cylinder, put the thing in George’s hand and commanded him thus: “Hold this little cannon in plain sight so that everyone will know that you are King George, ruler of the Kingdom of Premerika. Then tell Satan and her savages, ‘Because you are ugly and disgusting sex slaves who refuse to work for and worship God, you will die if you do not earn God’s love build the civilization I shall name Amerika.’”
King George didn’t repeat this message word-for-word; like a good prophet, he communicated God’s message in beautiful sonnets and verses. The natives were spellbound by their beautiful sounds. If you doubt this is true, try singing George’s poems aloud and you’ll understand. Copies are provided below at no extra cost.
Oh sweet, sweet Civilization!
You are my inspiration,
My dedication, my motivation!
You make my heart race,
You make my feet race,
I know your surname, it is Economy.
We live in harmony, not like sodomy.
As my true wife, you deserve my life!
You are so fair—in all affairs!
God’s best creation!
You make my heart race,
Whenever we embrace,
You make me work,
And go berserk,
For you I sweat,
Oh, you make me wet!
Oh sweet, sweet, sweet Civilization!
You are my inspiration,
You are the reason I get out of bed,
For you I’ll work until I’m dead!
Since you are everything,
The reason I work and sing,
Each evening,
I read your love letters:
They are so legal tender,
So full of numbers,
Dullards call them dollars,
But they are so much more—
They are the true currency of love:
Kisses from the Boss Above!
Oh, sweet, sweet Civilization,
As your prophet I can see
You will save us from exhaustion,
Poverty and misery,
With robots and electricity!
With foreign slaves and electric chairs
You will make dying so easy
With coal-powered toothbrushes
And super-nuclear-powered vacuums
Even cleanliness will be a thrill
For which even God would kill.
Patience, my friends, and sing my song,
The road to luxury, leisure, and freedom
Might be long, indeed, too long
To hold your breath,
But if you can’t save money fast enough,
Don’t wait for Death
To lead you to the wisdom of true freedom;
Just put your trust in God’s good bankdom:
And the Angels of Bamboozle
Will rescue you,
From the sin of poverty,
The holy banker’s credit line
Continues for infinity,
Beyond the clouds so heavenly
God’s angels of most high finance
Never refuse to lend a loaded hand
For the poor, for the needy
They invent what they print
As God alone created Earth from nothing,
So they print money without accounting
And create credit from pure imagination.
They are so generous,
They lend what they do not possess,
And wait so patiently
While you work so honestly
To redeem yourself
From the sin of debt and poverty.
So, if I may summarize in song,
If you want God’s love,
Always take more than you need,
Give more than you’ve got,
And work, shop and spend on God
Make Him so full
His girth encircles Earth,
And none escapes His warm embrace.
My secret love,
Who knows her name?
The games she plays?
So sweet, so tantalizing,
Her mesmerizing glitter,
Her leather, gold and silver,
Her mansions made of sugar,
And daily dinners red with blood,
Legs and breasts and rarest meats—
Who can resist all this?
No one! So, get up, you lazy bums,
Dance to my lady’s drum!
Swing your tools, buy her jewels!
Swing your axes, pay her taxes!
Or King George, her true defender,
Will use his magic
And turn you into stew of rabbit.
Oh my lady, oh my lady,
Can you feel her heat?
Move your feet or join the dead,
Feed her fire-breathing dragonhead,
Fill her tanks, turn her cranks,
Stuff the Earth into her maw,
Give her forests to digest,
Watch her fires process and produce—
Endless products, profits, too!!!!!!!
And toil, toil, toil—
To build yourself a holy paradise
Of cut stone, steel, and ice.
Our Economy’s body is indestructible!
Behold, she’s made of asphalt and fables,
Piles of paper, wires, pipes, and plastic cables.
She eats flesh, time, and fossil fuels;
She exhales pure smoke and fire from her holes;
She sweats and pisses poisons on her enemies;
So no one dares to say she’s ugly
Because the mirror shows her beauty.
Besides, you know, she has rules, you fools
So obey her kings and pastors,
Lords and masters,
Bosses, merchants and professors!
Renounce your evil pleasures!
Wipe your smile from your face,
Bow before your mighty towers,
Worship your electric powers!
And pack your privates in your pants
And learn the wisdom of the ants!
Bend your backs or get a whack!
Respect the scepter, that’s the way,
To work towards our promised pay,
When trickling down from high above,
Comes your legal tender love.
Beavers, lamas, turtles too,
Every tasty beast will earn its love
From God above—
Learn to bend and pray,
Sacrifice the living day,
Toil and labor for my pay,
Selling lies or building bombs,
It doesn’t matter either way,
But evil love of being lazy,
Hedonism and fornication,
Will never be rewarded,
So, do your job religiously!
Feed our sweet Economy, feed her inner fire,
Make it grow, give her all your energy:
Wood, coal, oil, and radioactive carbs,
Geothermal and solar electricity,
Fire, fire, flame and fire,
Even Hell has pangs of hunger,
So feed His belly or be devoured!
Workers, slaves and managers,
Bosses, judges and governors,
Perform the civil rituals
Of the religion of Economy,
That leads beyond prosperity
To God’s love for you and me.
Amazing verses void of curses! These powerful, inspirational songs inspired the savages to quit Satan’s party and begin working for God’s love. They earnestly worked to turn their nation into an image of Amerika, meaning Heaven, so that God would feel at home. And they nearly succeeded, for they flattened woods, dammed rivers and built mills in order to make paper and churches, and they planted grass so they could collect the seeds and the stalks and feed their hungry livestock. And God was pleased with their progress, for the more they suffered the more they loved Him.
Satan could not sleep on account of the rise of civilization in Premerika filling the air with smog and hubbub. So, she invented and distributed pornography, and she emanated pheromones to distract the nation from the task of building a civilization. Fortunately, Amerikans had already lost interest in sex, so they continued full steam ahead.
But Satan was a stupid and stubborn creatures. She could not accept defeat, so tried to demoralize the nation. To this end, she dubbed herself “The Evangel of Love” and composed songs that mocked Premerika, satirized the great nation’s economy and promoted sharing, laziness, leisure and other sins most foul. Among her hateworthy songs were “Chuck Your Civilization!” and “You Make Me Vomit!” These depressing songs led millions of impressionable kids into unimaginable sin, so don’t read them—not unless you don’t believe in Hell.
Friends and foes, all tired,
Poor and nervous wrecks,
Let’s recognize our common enemy:
It’s not the foreign alien, it isn’t Satan,
Its secret name is Civilization.
You know it well, it is your Hell,
So let us all unite and chuck it!
Chuck that piece of shit!
And when we’re done,
Let’s build the new world order,
Free of leaders barking orders,
Brilliant green and without borders!
With courage and imagination,
We can create a better fate,
A warm and kind economy,
Green with love and harmony,
Free of bosses and professors,
Free of lawyers and employers,
Free of gods and governments,
Free of prices, clocks and rulers,
Free of fees and TVs,
And most of all,
Free of the fire-breathing beast,
The all-consuming and bipolar
Predator who sips its tea
And calls itself Civility.
Rise up, all lovers of the living universe!
Rise and be united, not divided!
Stop competing for your master’s curse,
For the pile of dust and sand,
And things much worse!
Stop slaving for the beast!
He charges you for everything,
And makes you do the very things
That make you curse and sick.
Rise up, all lovers of the living universe!
Rise up and now divorce
The life-destroying force
That always needs more energy
And suck the life from every body.
Rise up, all lovers of the living universe!
Love your bodies and the Earth!
Reject God’s wicked gifts!
Return his hollow souls to him!
Don’t place your trust in them!
They can’t buy eternal life above,
Any more than paper dollars,
Can buy an ounce of wisdom
Or a day of love.
Now if King George
Howls, “It’s time for war!”
Or calls you a filthy whore,
Plant love’s seeds and nuts into his eye,
And build a new world order,
Free from worry, debt and orders,
Full of summers filled with fucking,
Gags and clowning, very funny:
So sings the mortal of the future,
Who gladly gives her life and body
To nourish and enliven Nature.
Luckily, the early Premerikans only knew a few English words, so they didn’t fall for these slanderous lies and temptations, but their children were too damn educated. Those ragamuffins and whippersnappers happily traded both their money and their souls for so-called ‘organic’ vegetables, fruit, clean water and the idiocy of genital dab, jab and joust!
Thanks be to God, the people of Premerika wanted democracy so badly they dreamed of it. People simply loved the idea of voting for a special someone who would be their leader. But, they couldn’t decide whether to vote for Satan or George. So, Satan uttered her favorite lies. She guaranteed everyone free homes, healthy foods, real orgasms, year-long vacations and early retirements. Well, you can guess the disaster that occurred on Election Day: every American woman, child, slave and other criminal voted for Satan! So, God turned George into the rare dog-piss tree.
The nation’s uber-wealthy were not pleased with Satan’s election either. Thirty-three billionaires visited the White House with arms full of books of poetry, history, philosophy, anthropology, theology, scripture and economics. Their hope was that President Satan would read them and avoid repeating the mistakes of the past. Of course, she burned all their knowledge and swore, “Gentlemen, your books will keep me warm in the winter. Concerning the future of this great country, your God has inspired me to transform Premerika into Amerika, a giant Disneyland full of shiny stuff, fun jobs, great stores and hullabaloo!!!”
Luckily, no one noticed her sarcastic tone and everyone swore to give their unstinting support to their horned president. Thanks to their blind faith, Premerika became the civilized world that is, to this day, God’s crown jewel, his favorite resort and his most profitable creation. From dawn to sunrise, he enjoyed the great hullabaloo produced by the world’s greatest economic engine. Amerika’s economy literally made the world go round. Millions of tourists came to Amerika to gape at its amazing cloud-manufacturing factories, green parkways and nuclear missiles.
But all good things must end. After a century or two, President Satan grew bored of Disneyland and the new generation demanded less work and fewer bills and taxes. As the economy went to shit, God sent Amerika a better president for the future. He is the true Prophet of Love and the Great Illuminati the eternal hero whose awesome name is sung throughout the civilized universe. I don’t need to name him, for I know you studied him at school.