Wednesday, June 25, 2008

Gut Justice

Dear George,

We are in a clash of civilizations with barbarians who are intent on destroying our American way of life. Our only hope for victory is to enter a new age of barbarity in which we out barber the barbarians. Such an age needs a tough society that does not flinch from the manly virtues of cruelty and rapacity.

This is a religious war, and such a war demands a higher level of barbarity than is demanded by a war fought for political or economic reasons. When God is on our side, the gloves can come off.

Our counterinsurgency experts speak of Population and Resource Control (PRC). Religious warfare demands both domestic and international PRC, because when we are doing God’s work, we need a unified country behind us.

A barbaric society must be lean and mean. Coddling, be it children or criminals, is a thing of the past. Justice must come from the gut—literally.

And I am ready, George. Last year I completed a correspondence course with the London School of Surgery and Retributive Justice and am now a licensed disemboweler.

Granted, business has been a little slow for the last couple of centuries, but as we become nastier by the decade, I expect a sharp uptick in the market. Gutting a person while he is still living makes a powerful statement.

Our CIA seemed to understand this when they were training the Guatemalan death squads that were instrumental in overthrowing the country’s leftist president, Jacobo Arbenz in 1954. One of the squads’ specialties was cutting the fetuses from pregnant women. To their credit, they were humane enough to do so while the mother was still alive so she could have a glimpse of her new-born child before they killed her.

The key to a successful disembowelment is to slice and dice the body into quarters and put them on display. Hanging a couple of body parts from the White House portico would speak volumes about America’s commitment to world peace and stability, and it would add a new depth to state visits by foreign dignitaries.

Just give me my marching order, Big Guy, and I’ll start sharpening my instruments. Run the idea by the Big Dick. I’m sure he’d jump right on it.

Your admirer,
Belacqua Jones

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