I've been thinking things again, and this is what I came up with...
Two boots south of the Mason Dixon line trouble was brewing with the rebels who weren’t allowed to raise their rebel flag anymore. So they all moved to Finland and were welcomed as the new immigrants and were paid lots of money to be freedom fighters against capitalism.
Over in England the Mongolian Muslims from Arabia had taken a vote and converted to English Muslims and decided not to blow up the houses of parliament after all, and satirical expletives aside were very grateful for their lovely apartments, God bless the Queen, amen.
In the benches in the house of lords the government were laughing fit to bust at the photos of the bloody bits of children, all that was left after their bombs had fallen, and now were undecided where next to cause carnage.
Jane could have told them all where the next plane load of bombs should fall as she stood in the ruins of her hospital after it had been bombed into dust by the capitalist pigs safe in their halls of judgement and superior to the pain they caused.
A volunteer to it all couldn’t agree more as she packed parcels with food to be sent to the surviving children who would become the rookies on the fish and the next wave of suicide bombers and with nothing left to live for, what else could they do in the face of so much horror and hate that came at them all the days of their lives?
A piece of paper fell out of the sky and was immediately mistaken for a secret message from the allies who didn’t know what side they were on anymore that said: ‘What version of God have you programmed yourself to believe that causes all this?’
The message was taken to the Prime Minister of England who read it and fell in love with the idea of propagation from the skies and so sent it with millions of other pieces of paper with a message straight back to where it came from where they were used as toilet paper.
‘The plan is working’ they said as they wiped their backsides with the paper and sent off a twenty dollar note by return of mail and waited for the sky to rain money.
The scythe in the hands of crackpot doom was so busy these days mowing down the innocent that it had no time to read the telegram that came disguised as a rebel flag waving in the wind the bombs made that said: ‘We would surrender if only we could, stop. The war is killing us all, stop. In the name of God, stop. Before we’re all gone, stop.
The Prime Minister in glee couldn’t be happier in another war, it was plain for all to see, and of course the PM was guiltless, the cronies had voted for it and it was the PM’s responsibility to cause as much destruction and loss of life as could be before the war ended and the next one came along.
And so the darlings of Britain watched in mock horror the war on TV that was just in time for Christmas viewing, while the nails in the coffins began to rust with the senseless depravity of it. It will be over soon, won’t it, and maybe just in time for the New Year’s bash where everyone gets stupidly drunk to welcome in the New Year and another round of death to our enemies...
This was all seen over a four week period of watching the news and just goes to show that the news is a load of old baloney.
Image from me
