Monday, November 21, 2005

Continental Op Ed



In the interests of fairness, diversity, and humanity, we are always pleased to present opposing editorial viewpoints by well-qualified opinion-mongers. One of our more recent editorials advocated the overthrow of the Soviet Union or de-recycling of Federal subsidies for computer games or something. I forget, nor are our correspondents particularly helpful in reminding us what we think, if anything. Nonetheless, we are pleased to allocate space that might otherwise be used to generate valuable advertising revenue or to display lewd photographs to the dire mutterings of one Bodega Gazebo (for legal reasons, not his/her real name.)

Our nation is in grave danger. Readers of Mr. "Bleak Mouse" may be entirely unaware of this, because of his biased obsessions with old movies no one has seen, exploitative tales of teen life, and innuendos concerning the qualifications of academics at our major universities. With the price of gas soaring, cable television rates rising with no end in sight, the reality of alien spacecraft being questioned by suspicious dissidents, and marauding bands of illegal aliens making obscure gestures in our largest metropolises, this is not merely irreponsible. It is insane.

Mr. "Bleak Mouse" seems to live in a fantasy world where dire national crises such as Cindy Sherman can be ignored completely, as though the reproduction of a bunch of irrelevant pictures contributes one iota to world hunger. Mr. Mouse's haunts are obviously those of the fabulously wealthy who exploit the backs of labor without qualm, while using their sullied fortunes for botox, tanning treatments, cocaine, and sexual license. Mr. Mouse's idea of "work" seems to be a seduction that takes more than ten minutes, or having to wait two minutes to fill up his SUV limousine copter with precious oils that our policemen have died protecting. Does he care? A quick survey of his tax returns and private e-mails would lead the thinking man to think: Not!

Mr. Bleak would be better off leaving politics to the politicians, to the tyranny of the majority, to mob rule, to temporary hysterias, and to persons who read books for a living. This is the ethereal spirit of our great democracy. There is no place here for self-styled aristocrats with their monocles and their snuff boxes and their foreign composers, who issue expletives from high atop their mounts on Mount Olympus, and expect the entire world to just stop spinning because they are displeased with the wine.

I have it on good authority that M. Bleaque is the paid agent of a sinister power, and throws elections the way the rest of us throw cigar butts and condoms. Disprove that, sir! If you can! His grubby little connivings, his flagrant self-interest in regard to himself, his wild skyscraper parties where ruined souls are tossed from the windows as easily as people without written invitations -- these are a matter of Public Record, suppressed and obscured by his corporate yes-men, his teams of enslaved lawyers, and his armies of the night.

I call upon each and every one of the readers of this so-called "blog" to set aside their cocktail glasses and concubines, and reflect for a moment on the single organ they do not abuse with relish -- I refer to the human conscience!

Thank you, and God bless the little people.

Warning for Darko: Enlarged font in use.