This time Democracy kills us all. Don’t act so surprised…
As the results of the Iowa caucus fill the headlines early Friday morning, the Huckabee campaign gets revved and charged up. Mike’s got a few demons hidden away deep inside, and winning the first Presidential contest pours nuclear fuel on a smoldering fire, and he starts think he’s above the law. At 9:00 AM Huckabee has breakfast with spokesman, Chuck Norris in New Hampshire.
Huckabee orders ham and biscuits and gravy with a bowl of grits and side of bacon. Unfortunately, the diner in New Hampshire doesn’t serve grits, biscuits, or even gravy for breakfast. Plus their bacon looks kind of funny up there. Rightfully so, Huckabee is pissed. He explodes out of his seat, knocks the table over, and punches the waitress in the face. Closed fist.
If he’d stopped at that point, he would have been fine and probably would have carried the South, but—enter Chuck Norris. Chuck ordered waffles and doesn’t give a shit about the grits and biscuits, but to him a breakfast fight’s better than bacon.
Turns out Chuck Norris isn’t the ironic subculture folk hero the internet and hip t-shirts have made out to be him. He’s just a dick. He starts killing people with out hyperbole or a punchline. He just snaps necks, slits throats, and kicks people in the back like a total asshole. The entire restaurant is fighting each other. The people of New Hampshire may have a rugged independent streak, but they fight like a bunch nancies, and even the press corps starts beating the fuck out of them.
Before long, the mollycoddle breakfast brawl rolls onto the streets, as every person in New Hampshire that’s not from there starts whuppin’ the hell out of the locals, and the state is in complete chaos.
John Edwards quits the race and becomes a nurse—he’s got such big heart; John McCain gets captured; and Hillary Clinton unleashes every feeling and emotion she’s stuffed away since some really weird psycho-trauma happened to her as a child, and she slaughters every middle aged white man that resembles her father, which is most every guy in New Hampshire. Obama plays it cool, and everyone else is dead.
It’s 11:32 AM Saturday, and it could’ve all stopped there, except after tasting blood, the press corps goes crazy and even turns on themselves—or at least the people below them. Through phone, email, IM and text messages the “journalists” abuse their subordinates, staff writers, editors and assistants so much that even they turn physically violent.
By 12 noon on Friday, massive fights that border on small riots break out at the offices of every local affiliate television station, newspaper, magazine, and the one blog that has two employees.
Of course every office has the one assistant, PA, intern, or whippin’ boy that’s just taken too much, and each and every one of these bottom-of-the-pissing-order, just-trying-to-get-a-foot-in-the-door, bustin’-their-ass, ambitious youths, turns the cameras on, and broadcast it across the airwaves and internets.
The violence grows virally, which is ironic because it was the first time the main stream media successfully spread anything using new media. But the violence, hate, and rage is authentic and sincere, so it spreads like San Diego fires on a windy day.
By 10 PM Friday night, America is under martial law and a strict curfew, which Lindsay Lohan breaks. She’s just that way. After hearing that in an online poll of 30 million Americans she was voted worst actress of the year, Lindsay didn’t just fall of the wagon—she was thrown off then kicked by a mule. Lindsay’s partying harder then a self-denying closet case at Greek Week. Unfortunately, yet predictably, when Lindsay fell off the wagon, she flashed her gash.
Upon spreading her legs in public, Lindsay released a special, crisis-induced, estrogen gas that chemically called all surrounding women to arms. Turns out Lindsay was the chosen one, selected to protect all of human kind, by gathering, leading, and saving a batch of fertile women. It’s a hell of a burden to bear, but that’s probably why she drinks so much and does so much blow.
This special group of women selected by God, recognize the scent as it is released and immediately switch into defense mode, completely unconsciously, they take up arms. Lindsay is the Queen of defense, but her right hand woman is Arizona Pageant Bandit, Kamari Fullbright who has been training for weeks, knocking over banks, kidnapping, and torturing. These chicks are in badass mode, and will shoot anyone or anything that mildly threatens human kind, which is most everybody.
By 12 AM Saturday, the reign of estrogen terror boils over, as veteran chick with a gun, Sara Jane Moore, the woman who was released from jail this week after she tried to kill President Ford, finishes her life calling and puts a single bullet in the head of President Bush. No one complains.
A power vacuum has been filled, and what shambles of America remain are under the rule of a few hot chicks with big guns that have been preprogrammed by God to cleanse the earth and start fresh. All of the civilized world, which now means anyone with an internet connection, is in the same position, which makes Russia the sexiest country in the world for the first time ever, but give ‘em a few years, they’ll be fat and droopy-doggy.
Meanwhile in Africa, the situation is just about as bad, even though they had no idea about the riots, wars, and destruction occurring in the civilized world. Oddly enough, the chaos in Africa was caused by the Kenya elections. After Mwai Kibaki, stole his reelection, because he’s a corrupt, power-hungry, evil leader and that’s what corrupt power-hungry, evil leaders do, Kenya has been rioting all week, and it has spread across the entire cotenant, officially ending Africa’s drought, not with water, but with a bath of malnourished and AIDS infected blood. Fuck you, Mwai Kibaki.
Essentially the same thing happened there as here, but instead it was the men who had the guns, took control, and killed everybody. Trust me, you’d rather be here.
Asia has followed suit with America, and the chicks are in charge for the first time ever. There’s a lot of pent up rage, and before they murder then men, they bind their feet, paint them with makeup until they look like an Anime character, and then shit on them. Call it even. By Sunday, North and South America, Asia, Australia, and whatever else there is out there is under the control of militant chicks with guns. Africa stands out as the last remaining male dominated culture/army.
Sunday afternoon the two armies, one sexy and one scary as hell, march across mountains, rivers, and desserts to meet face to face for battle. The armies meet along the borders of South East Asia and the Middle East, which everyone forgot about because they sort of have the internet, but it’s mostly illegal and government controlled.
The entire region is booby trapped and blows up as the soldiers step across the border. Sure it kills every Arab, Afghani, and Paki, but it also kills a few chicks and a black dude, so they think it’s worthwhile. Don’t try to understand it—they just think differently then us.
Now, what remains of the two vicious armies stare at and taunt each other from across the great nuclear valley filled with oil and a faint smell of curry. Both sides yell and shoot towards each other, occasionally landing a bullet or an intelligible insult. They jump and scream for over an hour, until 5:32 PM EST when God gets sick of watching humans fuck up the same way again and again, and he reaches down and thumps Earth out of the galaxy, simultaneously scorching and freezing the whole planet, killing everyone. No Heaven, no nothin’. Way to go, assholes.