Among the granola delinquent's personal effects, investigators have found numerous notebooks containing page after page of meaningless jibberish, a catalog of personal diaries maintained in reverse chronological order, and no fewer than 29 dog-eared copies of James Joyce’s “Ulysses.”
The following letter was found taped to his refrigerator, which may or may not shed some light on the motives and intentions of the apparently sociopathic cereal-lover, who remains in maximum security lockdown.
“Dear mutha and fatha,
By the time you read this, my mission will most likely be accomplished, and I will most likely have been captured or otherwise taken down by members of the President’s personal attachment of secret service agents. I should be resting in a pine box by now, somewhere in Arkansas, with my head and torso filled with government-issued lead, while the physical remains of the President lie somewhere in the Capital in a platinum-plated coffin. The state funeral may already be underway, and heads of state from around the world are perhaps flying in by the droves to pay their perfunctory respects to the man who proved that gross ineptitude cannot disqualify one from holding the highest official position in the world. Though, in private, I’m sure that these world leaders and the vast majority of the world population are letting out a massive, collective sigh of relief, in the knowledge that this man of mediocre stature and enormous criminal incompetence no longer walks this earth among the thinking and feeling members of the race.
Still, I know my actions will be criticized, and I apologize profusely and wholeheartedly to the both of you for any shame this may bring upon our family. I can hear the critics even now, casting their aspersions on the granola. My actions have accomplished nothing, they will say. ‘He should have used a dirty nuke to wipe out the Pentagon or the WTO.’ They’ll say I should have waited until all the joint chiefs of staff were in the same room rummaging through Satan’s toolbox and then flown a lightweight Cessna loaded with TNT straight into the building.
And I’m sure they’ll all say it was a big waste of time because mister bush was nothing but a mindless puppet and a figurehead anyway. But that will be to miss the point entirely. This assassination is a symbolic act, no less than the sabotage of the WTC in 2001. It was that stroke of genius that lured this proud, egocentric nation into the war in the first place. Whoever was responsible for that action has gotten exactly what they wanted. Who could not have foreseen the results? Is this regime not as predictable as any laboratory rat with a block of cheese and a vial of cocaine? They got their war, and they got themselves into a quagmire from which they can never escape.
The private defense contractors are making their fortunes, the oil cartel is growing filthy rich, and the world economy is collapsing. In the disgraced name of democracy, the new regime is getting exactly what they wanted. And now they’ve set up a black man with a middle eastern name as their main competition. What more could they ask for?
So what choice did I have? If they think they can do a better job of overthrowing this egregious government, then by all means, let them take a shot. I hope to be made a martyr for my efforts. My actions are as symbolic as the puppet leader himself, and when they execute me, they will stop nothing. This is a grassroots revolution, and if everyone of us stands up and assassinates one political leader, change will happen. That much I can promise you. Peaceful change is impossible. Ask anyone. I would have asked Gandhi, but then some crazy Pakastani shot him in the chest. Same with John Lennon. All you need is love, my ass.
Those assholes depend on peaceful revolution. The longer we ‘sit-in’ the deeper they sink their greedy claws into our passive pockets and hopeful hearts.
Dear parents, if I learned anything at all from you, it was to honor the well-being of the world and all of its life before the well-being of myself. When my arrow of love burrows through the forehead of that mindless automaton they call the commander-in-chief, I will be thinking of you. My life means nothing compared to the damage he has done to our planet, as he bows to those weapons manufacturers, drug pushers and oil producers who order him about. I learned from your example, and I pray that others may learn from my example, to rise up and put an end to the evil empire. Their greatest thrill comes from watching their assets swell as they accumulate wealth beyond the wildest imagination; our great thrill will be to see the smiles on the faces of their wives and children who will inherit everything when daddy’s head is vaporized by one of Rockwell’s laser-targeted compact missiles.
God Bless America. With love and respect, your loyal and obedient son.”
