Naked Beamers and the Big Dick

Dear George,

I see the Big Dick is over in Caucasia trying to stir up some more shit.

God, I’m going to miss him. The thing I love about him is that he never leaves boredom in his wake. Not the Big Dick. Every time he opens his mouth another wedding party is bombed.

Georgia is the perfect client state because its president, Mikhail Saakashvili is such an easy mark. The way you guys conned him into invading South Ossetia just so you could fire up the Cold War, again, was brilliant. What’s so amazing is that the guy still trusts us even after we screwed him to the wall. Now either he’s the dumbest son of a bitch ever to come down the pike, or the CIA is transferring some massive funds into his Swiss bank account.

You restarted the Cold War just in time. Iraq hardly makes the front pages any more, and your Global War on Terror is looking more and more like the scam it really is. With Russia’s move into the breakaway territories, you have another “threat” you can use to fire up the public paranoia that is so crucial for the health of the corporate security state.

As always, there’s the oil, and our grandiose scheme to militarily control it. That’s what I love about policy: it is madness raised to the level of high art. Here we are, bogged down in our first attempt to establish military control over the world’s oil supply, and we still think we can run the world.

Being mad, myself, I certainly identify with madmen. It is indeed heartening to see psychotics slowly taking over the world. It’s only a matter of time before mushroom clouds start sprouting over the face of the earth. When that happens, our deliverance will be at hand, and we will all be beamed naked up to heaven, and the prospect of flying through the cosmos with a naked Sarah Palin is incentive enough to drop the first bomb.

The next time you and Jesus sit down to a game of Texas Hold-Em, see if the big guy isn’t ready for a nuclear holocaust so he can come down and take over the burnt cinder that is all that will remain of his kingdom on earth.

Your admirer,
Belacqua Jones