http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/20060331/ap_on_re_us/attacks911_calls

Holy fuck shit. What the fucking shit are you talking about? You filthy fucks? Let's hear the screams. Let's get immersed in the terror. If we are a knee deep in it now, bring the terror on. Let's super-accelerate the terror warning. How about DEFCON? What the hell happened to that? That was at least the Cold War definition of how close we were to the apocalypse. Why can't we just broadcast that as a little digit at the bottom of the screen? By the time it hit 1 we'd all be vaporized or dying of radiation poisoning anyhow. What about we just get rid of them? Fire the missiles into sun and be done with it? Ensure they may never be reassembled and simply take that option away? Make it a fair fight? Stand up and play like a REAL superpower.
Swords and picks and crossbows in a Mad-Max like epic of unholy proportions. But in order to pull it off we've got to hear the screams. See the pictures. Review the footage. Take a look at ignorance, bigotry, holy war and death brought to us in streaming non stop visions of blood and chaos. HDTV brings you: "The Best of Roadside Bombs: Volume I". Dolby 7.0 surround sound thrumming you in your seat as your vehicle O-erpasses a deadly Improvise Explosive Device. And the screams, oh the screams they will echo. Echo through graphically equalized intra-audio speakers. And for once a generation will know the horror before we scramble again to elect a "War-Time President." And for once we'll stop watching Action movies to bring us our thrills. And the men with one leg will stop coming home. And the children will stop having to go away. And fueled with horrified brotherhood we would once again find how fucking good it is to live and breath in fresh air.

Comments

Duke said…
This rant brought to you by the letter Q. Tragically, upon this reading, the letter Q has been deemed a no show at this particular alphabet hearing. Early reports are stating Q was witnessed leaving the club last night in the arms of R and P, A nowhere to be found. Speculation is running rampant and the tabloid hounds are on the scent. Dead? Giant Bat Baby? Jesus on Toast? Hopefully, someday, we’ll know the truth.
(The link has expired, therefore I have no idea what really occurred on the other end of it to incite such wrath, but judging by the rant and the url, I can guess things nobody wants to talk about at quiet cocktail parties in Connecticut.)

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