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Mr. Wrong

El Numero de la Bestia

Emily Flake

By Joe MacLeod | Posted 5/31/2006

What the fuck is going on with errbody all het-up about these Immigrants or Aliens or Illegals or Migrant Workers or Illegal Undocumented Aliens, hah? I mean, did somebody just drop a great big fucking Foreigners Without Their Papers bomb on us, as in U.S.?

C’mon, who you think’s been picking all the goddamn fruit and doing, like, salad prep or whatever in the place where you get your salad sometimes, hunh? It’s not like all these Undocumented Foreign Illegal Migrant Alien Workers all held hands and strolled over the dotted line overnight, like those settlers did in that movie about, what, Oklahoma? The one where the settlers were all spozed to git to settlin’ when The Man said “Go,” only some of the settlers, like, presettled (as in cheated) and wagon-trained their shit all Westward-Ho-like and hogged all the good spots from which to start taking over the rest of the country by outbirthrating (and assassinating) the Natives? Wha?

All I’m sayin’ is howcumzit so many different sets of panties are all in big sweaty uncomfortable bunches right now over this stuff? I’m not paranoid, but is there something Really Big that we need to be distracted from right now? That’s what teevee is for, man, distraction, and I don’t wanna be distracted from it by having to argue with people about, like, el aprender hablar espanol, because I would like to learn a new language, and I hear the best way to do that is to immerse oneself in an environment where there’s language to be learnt, so I’m like, hey, win-win situation and shit, bring on the espanol de discurso, you know? Knowledge is Good and shit, seriously.

I understand the argument about how a lot of Foreign Aliens get to be sick in the hospitals here in the United States of America and not pay for it, and yeah, that’s kind of a pisser, My Tax Dollarswise, and also and furthermore, during this whole War on Freedom, we (as in The People) oughta make sure most of the people in this here country are here because they are supposed to be here, like invited as in Guests. But those fuckers who crashed the planes had their papers in order, so I guess there needs to be more than a piece of paper or plastic, eh?

I got absolutely no fucking problem with one of those Robo-Identification Cards, or hey, better yet, maybe, like, some kinda computo-electro-chip like the ones they stick in animals to keep track of ’em via satellite, how about that? If they could make it so it would double up as a cell phone and a place to stash my car keys, I’d be all “Early Adopter” on that tech, for real. I mean, if I got one of those subdermal things, I understand The Man would know where I was 24-7, but like, currently, I’m alla time reporting in as it is, hitting the ATM, driving through toll booths, buying shit with my credit card, talking on the phone, staring glassy-eyed into glassy-eye cams all over the place, so if I really wanna disappear, I’ll just dig the offending identifying teeny little hunka microcircuitry outta the back of my skull or wherever they put it and get me an extreme makeover to fool the Observo-cams. Ouch.

Plus, shit, I just remembered. man: The Beast!

Rev 13:16 And he causeth all, both small and great, rich and poor, free and bond, to receive a mark in their right hand, or in their forehead.

Rev 13:17 And that no man might buy or sell, save he that had the mark, or the name of the beast, or the number of his name.

Rev 13:18 Here is wisdom. Let him that hath understanding count the number of the beast: for it is the number of a man; and his number is Six hundred threescore and six.

Yeah, that The Omen movie is coming to a Theater Near You on June 6, 2006, the date which people insist on referring to as 6-6-06, as in The Number of The Beast, which is all Devil-centric and ooh-scary End-Timesian and shit, while also being all “Bwhaaahaha, I don’t Believe in Your God, so I will be pleased to make Sacrilege by comedically employing your Anti-God, and I will mock you all VICARIUS FILII DEI by paying obeisance to Prince of Darkness, etc.”

But like, The Omen, man, sixsixsix and shit, a most excellent conceit upon which to hang your horns when you wanna put out a movie all about cute li’l baby Antichrist. I read in one of those Jack Chick comics I found on the bus once that The Beast will make sure all the People of Earth step up and accept his Mark, which is probably gonna be some sorta identification Chip that gets shot into our butt-cheeks or something, right? Ouch. Anyway, 6-6-6 is a Tuesday, man, and nothing ever happens on a Tuesday since Sept. 11, 2001.

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