Excerpt... (Strong Language)
WARNING! THIS CONTAINS STRONG LANGUAGE ALONG WITH SOME RATHER CONTROVERSIAL VIEWS REGARDING ORGANIZED RELIGION. ANYONE OFFENDED BY THIS SHOULD LEAVE NOW.
Excerpt from “The Wallygrange High School Blogs.” The character is a former USMC Master Gunnery Sergeant now living in a homebuilt iron lung in the loft of a bungalow in the UK owned by a Gay part-time anarchist and his partner...
Attention on deck!
Let me warn you ladies right here and now that I am not addressing a fucking sewing circle. You are going to come across some profanities and you are going to read some things you may not agree with. I have come to tell you people some unpleasant truths about the world you are living in.
I want to begin by showing you this letter. I wrote the fucker shortly after I left the Marine Corps because I was feeling pretty pissed off and I’d decided that I wasn’t going to take this shit lying down. Unlike some individuals. When life wants to fuck these yellow-bellied maggots in the ass they just lie there and spread their cheeks. And, if that description fits any of you peckerheads, then you’d better leave now. Because you are in the wrong place at the wrong time. There it is.
Anyway, as I said I was feeling pretty pissed off. They had me locked up in the psychiatric wing of the Bethesda Naval Hospital. Some psychiatrist figured I’d got a screw loose. So I had this great idea. I would write a letter to the Chief of Chaplains at the Navy. Not because I wanted spiritual guidance. But because I wanted to wake the motherfucker up. I wanted to let him know that Milton P. Smith has arrived and that he intends to kick some ass. The letter was addressed to the...
Chief of Chaplains,
Department of the Navy,
2 Navy Annex,
Washington, DC 20370-0400
And it read...
My name is Milton P. Smith and I’m a Master Gunnery Sergeant in the United States Marine Corps. The reason I’m writing you is the motherfuckers claim I got some kind of combat related stress syndrome fighting the Taliban in Afghanistan. So they’re gonna discharge my ass. That’s a load of crap! Marines are trained for combat. Marines can take any kind of shit Osama bin Laden throws at them. There it is. But it wasn’t Osama who fucked me up. Or maybe it was. Hey! Maybe that cocksucker is running the Marine Corps and not the Navy. Why not? He’s running rings around the fucking White House and the CIA. Jesus H. Christ! They found Dillinger. So why the fuck can’t they find bin Laden? Then it came to me. This is all part of a conspiracy to silence me. Because I have just discovered who I truly am.
The last time I was on earth my name was Jesus Christ. But I made a bad career choice. I was a carpenter. Ask yourself this, Chief. Just who the fuck listens to a carpenter? Every time I gave a sermon some scumbag would shout
“Forget this cocksucker! All he knows about are dovetail joints!”
It’s called Distribution of Labour. You wanna know about kitchen units, talk to a carpenter. You want moral guidance talk to a priest. There it is. Here’s another, thing, Chief. Last time round they put it out I was the Son of God. That is a negative. God does not need a son. God does not procreate. Why? Because God is not a physical entity. Contrary to popular opinion you are not...I repeat...not made in His image. He is composed of a pure form of energy too simple for you complicated maggots to understand. Consequently, he does not need a dick. Dicks are for inferior human beings and other species. If God did have a dick, then it would be the biggest dick in all of creation. It would span several solar systems.
I guess you’re thinking if Christ wasn’t the Son of God, then who the fuck was he? That’s simple, Chief. We’re both manifestations of His Will. Remember that saying, there’s a bit of God in all of us? Well some of us have a little bit extra. Just one of the many miracles God can perform. Right now you may be starting to experience some doubt. No problemo. Doubt is good. It’s meant to stop you people from becoming too gullible. Trouble is, it doesn’t always work. Look what happened last time I delivered God’s messages. What did you motherfuckers do? Once I was dead you created a religion around me. Religions are by their very nature sectarian. They cause wars. I told God maybe you people aren’t ready for this kind of shit. I mean, look at you. Two thousand years later and there are still priests who try to persuade people that God speaks through them. That their religion is the true one.
God speaks through everyone, numbnuts. There are no favourites. Talking about priests. You know what really drives the Pope? Compassion? Love of humanity? Those qualities certainly exist. No, deep down it’s vanity. And the Pope knows it. If the Pope were truly humble he wouldn’t need those trappings of office. That stuff about looking good to glorify God? Have you ever heard such a lame fucking excuse? You think God sits up there hoping people are dressing up nice just so they can worship him? Hey! There’s some beggar in rags praying to me! What’s he doing? He’s giving me a bad name. I’ll strike the cocksucker down with a bolt of lightning. Zap! Remember, my children. If you wanna pray to God dress good like the Pope.
No, these peckerheads dress the way they do because they want to feel important. We’re priests, so show us some respect. Then they give a sermon about the sin of vanity. Yeah, those peckerheads are the High Priests of Hypocrisy. Listen, Your Holiness! There are people out there starving to death! How the fuck do those people in the Vatican sleep at night? I figure they sleep a lot better than the poor and suffering in the world. They’ve insulated themselves from all that. If the Pope were truly humble he would get rid of all those sycophants who tell him how holy he is. He would go out and mingle with the people. He would get his hands dirty. Like Mahatma Gandhi. This guy was an object lesson in humility and compassion. Gandhi even wove his own fucking clothes. And he didn’t need some Goddamn ring on his finger or a gold symbol around his neck to prove how devoted he was. You wanna hear a good joke Chief? That was me...I was Gandhi. I told God I didn’t want to come back as a Christian. I wanted to try another religion. How about a Hindu? So you Christians missed the Second Coming because you were looking the wrong way. Only they killed me again. I suppose getting shot is a lot better than hanging on some fucking cross. This time it was a quick death, so I ought to be grateful, right? The problem is I made the same mistake. I preached about love and non-violence. And that really pissed some people off. These are the people who think any religion that preaches love, non-violence, and forgiveness, is a religion that has no balls. They want a religion that gives them a chance to go out and kill people. They want a God that acts like Don Corleone, the Godfather. Hey! Those people down there say they don’t believe in me. Go kill the motherfuckers.
There’s something strange about this God of theirs. He never does the killing himself. Instead, he’s like Hitler. He just gives the orders and lets someone else do his dirty work. The truth is, this God of theirs doesn’t exist. He’s a figment of their psychopathic imaginations. These people use God as an excuse because they haven’t got the balls to admit they love killing their fellow human beings. In fact, they’ll kill anything that walks or crawls. What puzzles me is how they explain to themselves and others why their God can’t do the job himself. They must really bend logic to get around that fucking paradox! Their God, a Supreme Being who created the universe, needs some imperfect human-fucking-beings to do his killing for him? Are we to believe this God can’t kill anyone? Whoa! I’m too fucking far away. I’m stuck up here in heaven billions of light years away. I need some help. Wait a minute! Those fanatics down there are just the people I’m looking for. Of course, there’s another explanation. That this is the work of the Prince of Darkness. Beelzebub. Satan himself. It’s not beyond the bounds of possibility that Satan, a guy with no fucking scruples at all, would try to pass himself off as God. I’ll just talk inside their heads, like He does. Those gullible motherfuckers won’t know the difference.
Religion? Don’t talk to me about religion. Listen, up. Any religion that does not treat women with the respect they deserve is not worth the fucking paper it’s written on. Holy shit! There are some men out there who think women are chattels. That women are property. Like a car or a TV set. Do they feel the same way about their own mothers? Tough shit, Ma. I’m selling you and getting a better model. One that doesn’t fucking nag all the time. Without women those peckerheads wouldn’t exist. Sure, it’s the man who impregnates the woman with the seed. But it’s the woman who has to do all the fucking hard work. It’s the woman who gives birth. If I was a woman and I thought I was going to give birth to one of those motherfuckers I’d be looking for an abortion. Terminate it, Doc. There’s more than enough assholes on this planet.
Hey! Don’t worry. Payback is a motherfucker. With my box of magic tricks I’ll be making those individuals undergo the pain of childbirth. Then I’m gonna sit back and watch them scream.
“You’re a Taliban, right? Some kind of Mullah.”
“That is correct.”
“Okay, asshole. You’ll be giving birth to quads. And you can bet each one of those little fuckers will be nice and plump! Oh, and by the way. They’ll all be girls.”
Listen up. To make another human being you need both a man and a woman. Just one won’t do. Take my word for it. It’s not a complicated concept to grasp. You don’t need a degree in fucking rocket science. So I decided to ask God what the fuck He was playing at. Why did He allow this sort of inequality to exist?
“You have a point, Gunny,” said God. “I’d have thought those males would have got my message. Let’s face it, it’s gotta be obvious that women are just as important as men. Why else would it take two sexes to ensure the preservation of the species?”
“So why didn’t you pick men to give birth?”
“How would you feel if you knew you’d come out of someone’s ass. Anyway, I compensated for that by making the women mentally stronger. Next time round I’m going to do it different. I’m going to make less variety.”
“Yeah, it looks like this time I made too many Forest Gumps.”
Know what I’d do? I’d put all those chauvinistic assholes on a desert island with no women and let them become extinct. The world would be a better place without them. And what about those religions that require an animal to be sacrificed in a particular way. Slit its throat and let it bleed to death. You think God wants that? Listen, you cocksuckers. Each time you do that God cries. Because God believes in the sanctity of all life and the alleviation of suffering. God does not, I repeat, not want any of his creatures to suffer. Holy dogshit! That much at least should be obvious to you. And those sacrificial rituals? I figure they were created by sadists.
Anyway, those other religions have their own prophets. So let them worry about it. I got enough with Christianity. The Vicar of Christ? You gotta be kidding. You think Christ would have dressed himself up in those fine robes? You think Christ would have lived in a big palace? You think Christ would have asked people to give him money? Bullshit! Christ didn’t need the Catholic Church. But, sure as shit, the Catholic Church needs Christ. They’ve gotten fat and rich on His aching back. You think those hypocrites in the Vatican would give all that up and do what Mother Teresa did? Negative. Mother Teresa must have made those motherfuckers feel guilty. That’s why they wanted to make her a saint. To try and assuage some of that guilt they felt. Because she was doing what those cocksuckers should have been doing, if they’d had the guts. Talking about cocksuckers. While Mother Teresa was working her ass off helping the poor and needy, I bet some of those priests were getting some choirboy to give them a blowjob.
Maybe they figured that’s what Christ meant when he said, “Suffer the children to come unto me.” That Christ, being a charitable sort of guy, allowed them to use their special status as a priest to satisfy their carnal lust. We were a little worried about our youngest daughter, Monica. She was so precocious. Those short skirts she liked to wear. And the way she emulated those female singers on MTV. With those suggestive movements. Well, we asked Father Cohen for advice and he’s giving her some extra religious instruction.
The mother doesn’t know it yet, but that extra religious instruction involves going to the priest’s bedroom and demonstrating some of that seductive choreography. Boy, she’s only eight but she could tempt a saint. And the priest thanks God for the Permissive Society. You like dancing, huh? Have you ever seen those pole dancers? Let me show you on this video. Later, when they’re on the bed, he gets ready to give her God’s blessing. Relax, my child,’ I’m just going to insert the Lord’s holy staff into your precious little orifice. It may hurt, but remember that Christ Himself suffered on the Cross for our sins.
Okay, Chief. Let’s see if I can help you over this theological hurdle. God performs miracles, right? So it shouldn’t tax your faith too much to accept that this is just one of them. A foul-mouthed Gunny in a psychiatric wing who turns out to be the Saviour? That’s a pretty rough hair shirt to wear. In that case, just consider it to be another example of God’s Mysterious Ways His Wonders to Perform. Actually, God doesn’t really give a shit whether you believe any of this or not. Because God can do whatever He likes with or without your cooperation. God thinks it’s just common courtesy to keep you people in the picture. He also gave me some advice. He said tell those peckerheads that their mortal souls are on the line. Then ask them if they’re willing to take the chance that you aren’t Jesus Christ resurrected.
Like I explained at the beginning, Chief. Last time round I fucked up. So this time God has given His Personal Representative some extra help. He chose a master gunnery sergeant in the Marine Corps. I came in soft and went out hard. I became a cold hearted, hot-blooded killer, ready to defend the Western World against those cocksucking terrorists, religious fanatics and left-wing governments who did not subscribe to Democracy and the McDonalds Way of Life. But then I saw the Light. God spoke to me. He promised to give me some slack. But first I had to serve Him. My ass used to belong to the Corps…now it belongs to God.
You have to admit that picking me was a good move, Chief. God knew that a United States Marine NCO is one mean motherfucker. Just the sort of guy to spread his message of love and compassion. I do not take crap and I do not kiss ass. When I say shit, you maggots will squat and strain. It is Payback Time. You scumbags have forgotten the difference between right and wrong. You claim you are the most intelligent species on this planet, yet you have consistently polluted your environment. And what is worse, you cannot do Jack Shit about it. Why? Because you dumb assholes have created a society that depends on the very instruments that have produced this pollution in the first place.
I know what you’re thinking, Chief. You’re thinking I do not sound like the Sweet Savior because I use profanities. That’s a big affirmative. I use profanity because it is the only language you scumbags understand. If you live in the gutter you will talk like the gutter. Listen up, sweetheart. Playtime is over. My job is to give you slimeballs a moral code to live by. And if you think I’m gonna offer you any of that forgiveness shit, tough titty. I am not here to massage your egos. I do not want your excuses. I have heard them all before. Do not fuck with me. Do not tell me about all the good there is in the world. I am not interested in the good. The good can take care of itself. It is not the good that is fucking up this planet.
Check it out, Chief. Take the internal combustion engine. It spews noxious gases into the air, yet you cannot live without it. Hey! Fatbody! Why walk fifty yards to the liquor store when you can drive there, huh? Holy shit! Some of you scumbags have forgotten what your legs are for! God has seen that you maggots are not properly motivated. That you have become complacent. That you have become lazy. Both in mind and body. Because you have got your priorities wrong…because you have not bothered to fight the real evils that threaten your existence…you are now floating in the deep end of a swimming pool filled with shit. And, what is worse, your lifejackets are about to malfunction.
But help is at hand, Chief! And here's how it works: the first time round God gave you people an easy ride. Well, you’d better hold onto your assholes because this time the gloves are off. And here’s the first lesson: although I am your Sweet Savoir I am not a Christian. I did not create the Christian religion. It was created by my disciples. In short, they fucked up. But in those days it was hard to get any decent help. Neither am I a Jew, Moslem, Buddhist or a bareassed swinging dick goddamned Aztec sun worshiper.
Affirmative, Chief. I do not belong to any religious group, organized or disorganized. God sent my ass down here because you pieces of shit have truly fucked up this earth. And one of the reasons this earth is so fucked up is because you have too many different religions. Just what the fuck were you scumbags thinking about? Did someone take a shit in your brains and forget to pull the chain? You do not need to be a genius to work out that different religious beliefs will cause conflict. And conflict can be destructive. Any fool could have told you that. Christianity never stopped one war…but it sure as hell caused a few. And what about Scientology? Dianetics? You have got to be shitting me. The fact that Ron L. Hubbard was a fucking science fiction writer must have made you assholes suspect something!
Religion. What a pile of happy horseshit, right, Chief? I hear the Pope calls himself Christ’s vicar on earth. Then I saw he was just some old fart wearing fine robes surrounded by a bunch of fawning sycophants who were kneeling down kissing his ring. (Hey! I assume they were kissing his ring and not giving him a blowjob, right?) Still, maybe it's better they kiss that ring than the Pope's ass. At least it's more hygienic. If he really wants to be my vicar on earth he’d need to start washing feet, like I did. And I want to see him kneeling in front of someone for a change. Preferably one of those beggars they have in Rome. When it comes to humility the Pope talks the talk but he doesn’t walk the walk.
I have a message for the Catholics from God.
There is no hope,
For the Pope!
Listen up, Chief. God has seen how you peckerheads fucked up the Bible. Most of the stuff He gave you was misinterpreted. And a lot of the other shit never even came from Him! Maybe you people thought you could include your own agenda and get away with it. So He’s rewriting it himself, personally. A bit at a time. Here’s the first two Holy Amendments. Why only two? Well, bearing in mind that you genetic misfits suffer from attention span deficit, God has decided this is about all you can take in one go.
Holy Amendment 1: All religious institutions are to be dismantled and all bishops and cardinals will be downgraded. There will only be Servants of God and they will all be equal in rank. Those of you who coveted your authority will have to learn to live without it. There is only one boss…God. All precious metals and other property held by religious organizations will be sold and the money will be used to help the poor and needy.
Holy Amendment 2: Servants of God will devote their lives to helping those in need...whatever their race or creed. They will do this for the love of God. They will not be paid and they will live on the charity of others. If those Buddhist monks can do it, so can you
It will be hard. But figure it this way, Chief: the stuff you're getting rid of belongs to God. And He can do what the fuck He likes with it. He could shove it up your ass a piece at a time. You maggots will not be losing anything...except your vanity.
You think the American Civil War stopped slavery, Chief? Bullshit. Today we have a whole new breed of slaves. These slaves serve a hard master. His name is Mr Coke. But he goes by other names. Like Mr Heroin and Mr Crack. And he is a bitch. He is one mean motherfucker. He makes these people spend a fortune just so he can screw around with their heads. They are ready to kill and steal for him. Who is this Mr Coke? He must be really powerful. Some of these people are no pushovers. They are Movers and Shakers. They are big stars in the movie and music industry. Maybe we should ask them. Only I figure those candyasses would be too embarrassed to admit that they have sold their freedom to an inanimate organic substance. Just like those smokers who allow themselves to be killed by a tube of paper filled with a dried weed. How fucking weak and defenceless is that?
Hey, Chief! I bet you think hell is fire and brimstone, right? Some redassed dude with horns, goat’s feet and a pitchfork? Negative! Hell is virtual reality. The Devil's name is Bill Gates. So what does this virtual reality hell look like? Well, it looks like a crummy old nursing home. The place stinks of shit, piss and boiled cabbage. The heating never fucking works and there are these big shiny cockroaches crawling all over everything. This nursing home is filled with the worst kinds of residents you can imagine. These old farts are really gross. For a start, they suffer with halitosis. Their fucking breath smells like they got gangrene of the throat. On top of this, they are all in the final stages of leprosy and suffer with chronic dysentery...so you get that familiar milky white rice stool diarrhoea. Finally, they have this projectile vomiting. And you don't want to know what they bring up. Of course, this is a virtual reality hell...so these are not real people. They're just holographs. Like those in Star Trek. They just look, feel, sound and smell like real.
Now, most of the cocksuckers who get sent to hell will be dictators like Hitler and Stalin, murderers, child killers, politicians, lawyers, the spoilt rich...the usual suspects. And when they get there they will be issued with a standard care workers uniform. Then they'll be assigned to look after these residents, 24 hours a day, for eternity. And being sentimental, I'd like to think that these people will enjoy the challenge. After years of being pampered, they'll finally get the chance to look after those less fortunate than themselves. And the people who really suffered from leprosy and dysentery...they'll be cured and living it up in heaven. Payback is a motherfucker.
Okay, Chief. Time for some parables. A plastic surgeon dies. And when he gets to heaven God says, “Listen, scumbag. I'm not happy about your system of health care. It's the poor and needy who should get preferential treatment. And what about all these fucking vanity operations?”
“You mean tit implants, nose jobs...stuff like that?” replies the Surgeon. “Listen, I know a guy who runs a very exclusive clinic. Send your son Jesus to him. He can get rid of those crucifixion scars. It won't be cheap. But, hey! You're the Supreme Being, right? So I figure you must qualify for a gold card.”
And when God points out that the human race seem to worship their bank balances more than they worship Him, the Surgeon flips his lid. “What the fuck's wrong with you?” he cries. “You sound like one of those commies. Let's be blunt here, God. With your talents and connections, you could be in the top income bracket. I'm talking big money here. Mucho Dinero, compadre. Just think of the sponsorship you could get. All the big names will want to sign you. Ford, IBM, Sony...”
This could catch on. Next thing you know, Mary Magdalene is appearing on some TV advert, Hey! This is Christ's burial shroud. See this blood and sweat...and there's some vinegar on there as well. And you all know what a bitch that stuff is, right? You can’t use ordinary washing powder on these kind of stains. If you did, you'd probably end up with the Turin Shroud! But, with new improved biological Whizzo, I can get this whiter than white...
You like that one, Chief? Here’s another one. It’s the Second Coming. Only instead of the identity I’ve taken this time round, just imagine what would have happened if I hadn't bothered to change my ethnic origins. And I’m wearing the clothes I wore the last time. The robes and the sandals. So there I am, a Kike from Galilee. And I’m trying to get a room at this hotel. And the fucking desk clerk is explaining why he can't let me in.
“Beat it, you sorry piece of shit! You can't come in here dressed like that. This is the New York Hilton, for Christsakes! You got any money? What? You've given it all to the poor? Yeah, that's very nice...but we're running a business here. Have you got a job? You're a carpenter, huh? Well, we don't need a carpenter right now. Listen, why don't you try the Salvation Army? I hear they'll take anyone.”
So what’s the solution, Chief? Christianity? Bullshit. You’ve had two thousand years to get your fucking act together, yet you still say you’re practicing. How much more practice do you need? While we’re at it, Chief, let’s explode another myth. Some peckerheads actually believe that God created the universe in six days? Outstanding. This is God we're talking about. El Supremo. And He took six days? Bullshit! It was done in an instant. Zap! No universe...universe. Only back in the Middle Ages that was considered to be just too quick. So some twinkle toed asshole monk in a monastery decided it took God six days to do a simple job like that! And then...now get this...then the scumbag went on to claim God had to rest on the seventh day! As if it had all been some fucking effort. You maggots can take it from me - when God created the universe he didn't even raise a sweat!
You know what I really hate, Chief? TV evangelists. Like that peckerhead Pat Robertson. He is a prime example of a religious hypocrite. He wears nice suits, lives in a nice house, drives a nice car...yet this cocksucker is supposed to be working on behalf of a penniless Jewish carpenter from Galilee who dressed in cheap robes, wore sandals and rode on an ass. Horse Apples! Mister Robertson had better watch his little pink ass. It's Payback Time. The Jewish carpenter has returned. So what's in it for Robertson and all those other evangelists? They’ll tell you they’re doing it for God. Okay, lemme ask Pat Robertson this: Would he bust his ass doing what he does for nothing? Because that’s what Christ would have done. The evangelical industry is nothing more than a religious ego trip.
Do you want to know who these maggots are really working for? They are working for themselves. Now hear this! Pat Robertson and all those other fucking evangelists are fired. I'm downsizing the evangelical industry. Their ass is grass. These people dress and act like Harlem nigger pimps! I do not need that kind of image. If Robertson and his buddies have the balls to shed their wealth and start washing feet - then they can become my disciples. There it is.
Robertson will probably claim God spoke to him. Bullshit! God does not communicate with anyone. Why? Because God is everything. God is the universe. And it would be pretty stupid if the entire fucking universe started talking to you! God has no need to communicate because all the information you need already exists. All you ladies have to do is find it. By sorting the good shit from the bad shit. Okay, sometimes God employs an assistant to give you a few clues. But most of the time you dipshits have to work it out for yourselves. In other words, in this universe you have to wipe your own asses.
Here’s a final parable: The editor of a Roman tabloid hears about the trial of a Galilean religious dissident out in the boondocks. And he figures the story might fill a few columns on page five. So he calls a meeting.
‘Okay, people! Listen up. We have to dig out some dirt on this troublemaker, Jesus Christ. Have you heard the socialist shit he's coming up with? Goodbye consumer society... hello poverty! And those demands he's making. Turn the other cheek and forgive those that fuck with you. This guy ain't playing with a full deck, right? Then there's this Mary Magdalene. I hear she was a hooker. Get the background on that. Who were her clients? This asshole's going round claiming he's the Messiah and he's hanging out with a fucking hooker? Find out if he's porking her. They say their relationship is platonic...that he's converted her. Bullshit! Check it out. Get a picture of her ...something sexy. Tits and ass. Maybe it is platonic. Maybe he's queer. Maybe he sucks dicks. And sign that Judas guy up before the other tabloids get to him. He's bound to have some dirt on this Jesus. Tell him we can do better than thirty fucking pieces of silver. The guy's guilty and he's going on the cross. I want a good pic of the crucifixion. We'll put it on the front page with a banner headline: NAILED…THE KING OF THE JEWS!’
Okay, so I came over here to England and that’s when my health kind of degenerated. Maybe it’s the damp fucking climate you Brits live in. But I began to have difficulty breathing. In the end these two faggots found me on some fucking beach in Wales. Maybe it was Divine Punishment for that letter I wrote. Anyway, they took me in and I taught them how to build an iron lung using equipment from a junkyard. I was able to do this because I was trained as a combat engineer. And Marine Combat Engineers can build any-fucking-thing!
Now hear this, ladies. I am looking for a few good people. Why? Because I have decided to form the Corps of Marine Trained Debaters. Okay, I’m in a fucking iron lung. So I’m not going to be as mobile as I used to be. I’m not gonna be running around with an M16 wasting zipperheads. But that don’t matter because the Corps of Marine Trained Debaters is not built on mobility. It is built on brainpower. So, what is a Marine Trained Debater? I will tell you.
A Marine Trained Debater is an individual who possesses the highest debating skills. He is a grunt. He obeys the rules and traditions of the Corps of Marine Trained Debaters. He strives constantly to defeat those motherfuckers who, because of their greed and arrogance, are screwing up this world. Compassion for the poor and weak are the hallmarks of a Marine Trained Debater. If you develop the correct motivation, each of you can become a member of this elite organization. I will give you that motivation. I am hard, but I am fair. During your time as cadets you will be verbally abused. Verbal abuse can be difficult to handle, but it is necessary. The human race is in a World of Shit and I do not have the time to be polite. A Marine Trained Debater’s only weapons are his/her intellect and debating skills. By using these weapons against you, I will demonstrate how powerful they are and weed out any non-hackers who do not have the balls or motivation to serve in My Beloved Corps. Believe me, ladies. This is a lesson you will not forget.
From every cadet I expect nothing less than 1000% effort, 2000% of the time. If any of you maggots think you do not pack the gear to hack it as a Marine Trained Debater, then say so now. The cadets who enter my Academy represent people who are sick of the way this country and this world is run. They are looking for ways to change that. And I will give them those ways. Having mastered the art of logic, psychological warfare and black propaganda, they will become first class debaters ready to take on anyone. Here at the Academy we aim to turn out Marine Trained Debaters using a format of military training where information is set out in a direct and easy-to-follow manner. It will be kept brief and simple. It is my belief that most people today suffer from Chronic Short-Attention Span Disorder, or CSASD. The cause of which is thought to be due to a lethal combination of fast food, chemical additives, mobile phones and a polluted atmosphere. Take a good hard look at some of the retards on television. You maggots are laughing now. But if you don’t get up off your asses and fight back you’ll all be like that! Think I’m kidding? Then wait and see, douchebags.
For those of you who don’t want to end up like that, your new life starts here. I am looking for individuals who have the balls to become Marine Trained Debaters. But I am realistic. I know that some of you may feel you do not pack the gear to hack it. That’s okay. The world is made up of the strong and the weak. Believe me, ladies. Contrary to what religion has told you the weak will not – I repeat not – inherit the earth. Why? Because I will not let them. Maybe some of you others – those who still possess an intact spinal column - are still unsure just what it is I am offering. In which case, let me explain in more detail...
The Corps of Marine Trained Debaters is for disaffected individuals who have lost their faith in society and who are looking for a better alternative. In my opinion, western civilization has become morally bankrupt. Ruled by greed and self-interest. A society motivated by materialism and the cult of personality. Consequently, I feel the time has come for radical change. History teaches us that all civilizations eventually come to an end. And it is the purpose of the Corps of Marine Trained Debaters to hasten the end of this one and replace it with a better alternative. That’s right, ladies. We are going to kick ass big time!
I have followed with interest the emergence of the Green movement. I have also watched the various protest demonstrations at recent world economic conferences. It’s not the protestor’s philosophies that I object to, but their methods of achieving them. In my opinion, it’s time these people got their shit together. In the Corps of Marine Trained Debaters I aim to hone anarchy into an effective weapon. Although I am a former US Marine, I eschew the use of violence, which I consider to be physically and morally counter-productive. In my opinion, violence is the tactic most likely to end in a no-win situation for the protester. Knowing this, the established order prefer to deal with violent protest because their forces are best geared to resist it.
Consequently, I have coined a new phrase: re-constructive anarchy. This refers to the use of anarchy to first destroy and then rebuild society. My brand of anarchy is far more subtle than the popular petrol-bomb-and-stone-throwing kind. It is based on the principle of Non-Violent Aggression or NOVA. This highly effective form of offensive action was developed by me whilst I was incarcerated in that fucking psychiatric ward. Prozac can fuck up an individual’s brain. In my case, it gave me clarity of vision. I realised there was a better way. And this is it. If you choose to join my Beloved Corps your training will be split into two parts.
Part 1: Asking Awkward Questions - the Marine Corps Way! This is a must for the serious anarchist. It is my definitive method for pissing people off - especially politicians and religious nuts! Its aim is to hone your debating skills. Once the cadet has assimilated these lessons, they can consider themselves fully trained Combat Debaters, or CD’s. To teach the cadets, I use the methods and skills I developed in the United States Marine Corps. In my view, the Combat Debater represents a new breed of anarchist. One who uses the power of reason and logic. I have even designed a badge. It is a mouth rampant within a laurel wreath of tongues. One of these days, I may even get around to drawing the fucking thing! When dealing with their opponents, Marine Trained Debaters are taught to use the Basic Field Interrogation or BFI. The sole purpose of the BFI is to humiliate the opponent by revealing the level of his/her ignorance. It is that simple.
Part 2: Making Anarchy Work - the Marine Corps Way! You will be taught the art of conducting psychological warfare and the creation and dissemination of black propaganda. This, ladies, is the art of re-constructive anarchy using non-violent oral/verbal aggression. How effective will this be? Okay, let’s imagine a member of Al Queda is in the audience right now. And he goes back to Pakistan and reports what I’ve said. I figure Osama bin Laden will throw his AK47 away and cry, “By the Holy Beard of Allah! If we’d had these lessons we wouldn’t be in this shit!”
Last edited by theophobiac; 07-29-2008 at 02:38 PM..