Sunday, March 25, 2007

Excerpts from "War Hysteria!"


by King Wenclas.

Logan Airport, September 11, 2001:

"That's the eighth guy in a row who had some of them cute plastic knives. I wonder how I get a set of them?"
"You can't buy them here! Those fellows are from another country."
"Oh well."
* * * * * * *
As the gigantic towers of the World Trade Center explode in flames and mountains of black smoke fill the morning sky, the streets of Manhattan jam with escaping throngs, cries of terror reverberating within skyscraper canyons. It's a scene from the movie "Quo Vadis." New York City this day resembles Nero's Rome. The great city, center of the world, has been put to fire. Residents of the fabulous island of knowledge and wealth watch the symbol of their money and power crash to the ground. A wonder of the modern world is gone, turned into rubble, this bright September day of the year 2001 AD. It is an historic-- and horrific-- moment.
* * * * * * *
Vice Pesident Dick Cheney sits in an extremely comforatble chair in a rustic cabin at camp David, popping nitroglycerin tablets into his mouth. A nurse waits nearby. A heart monitor shows an erratic graph. Vice President Dick Cheney isn't worried. He never worries about anything. That's for normal humans. If any person around him worried, Vice President Dick Cheney would give that person a withering look of contempt. He has no use for weakness, for misgivings, trees, furry animals, or any of that heart-bleeding crap. Vice President Dick Cheney is a stoic; a true Roman. At word of the attacks, Secret Service agents bodily carried him from his White House chair to an underground bunker. Vice President Dick Cheney remained calm, issuing instructions as he was being carried, ordering the President to stay out of Washington, all the while casually knocking down nitroglycerin tablets.

"Where's the President?" a reporter now asks.

"In Louisiana. Or maybe flying around in Air Force One. Someplace. I have no idea."

Vice President Dick Cheney's expression says the question is idiotic. The wry trace of a grin on his lips acknowledges that W is useless and irrelevant. Vice President Dick Cheney sits back in his lounger and folds his hands peremptorily over his stomach. The movement worries his nurse, who studies the heart monitor.

"We have to bomb the animals," Vice President Dick Cheney decides.

"The animals?"

"Excuse me. We have to bomb the Afghanis. We have to take out their oil."


"Oil. Yes. The ANWAR oil. We have to go in there and take it out. Them out, I mean. Any snow owls, caribou, or polar bears killed are collateral damage. Regretful, but necessary." (His steely eyes gleam at the word "necessary.") "In the Arctic. Afghanistan. Alaska. You know what I mean. The oil. The animals. The terrorists. It's all the same. This is a fight for our freedom-- the freedom of American oil companies to drill wherever and whenever necessary to maintain the American way of life." (The heart monitor reacts furiously. The nurse is eager for Vice President Dick Cheney to calm himself. the hands folded across his stomach flutter passionately, though the tone of his voice hasn't altered; it's under control. Everything about Vice President Dick Cheney is under control. The lines on the monitor do zig-zags.) "You see, it's interrelated. Everything is interconnected. We musn't flinch from the task ahead. This will be like the Persian Gulf War, only longer, and-- better."

The reporter is baffled. Acting President Dick Cheney studies him as if gazing at an imbecile, or an insect. This is how Acting President Dick Cheney looks at all people. He signals with a movement of his eyebrow. Secret Service agents carry the smug and confident man from the room, nurse and heart monitor following.
* * * * * * *
(Stay tuned. More to be posted.)


jimmy grace said...


jimmy grace said...

it's been a month and no more art published here. (just sealed-off arguments on his highness's blog.) almost like you don't care about art at all.