ou don't have to worry any more, kids. The War on Terror is over. And we won. This week, the esteemed Bush administration declared the war on terror to be ended. Before you start dancing on the streets, however, there is a new threat that um, threatens our Bible-fearing, God-thumping nation of fatties. Also this week, our government began the 'struggle against extremism'.

Now, personally, this bit of information made my nipples tingle in anticipation. Turns out our government only means to struggle against non-American extremists, however. And I was left with the hugest pair of political blue balls the world has ever seen. Not just because my balls are huge, but because the unfounded anticipation increased their size immensely. So immensely, in fact, that they became the only man-made structure visible from space that isn't the Great Wall of China.

But that's not the point. Forget you read any of that about my balls. And stop distracting me with your fantastical tales. Honestly, I'm trying to report the news here. Now, where was I? Oh, yeah. The war on terror.

Oh, it's not a war anymore. It's just a struggle. The conflict alert has been downgraded.
Soon, we'll just be in a tiff with fundamentalists. Then maybe a falling out with those of differing faiths. When that happens, we can all sleep soundly knowing that our self-righteous government is no longer friends with them. They suck anyway. We don't even know why we hung with them in the first place. We were just pretending to like them. That's what I call progress.

Our nation's 'struggle against extremism' is much like some Make-A-Wish child's struggle against leukemia. It's going to be long, expensive and hopeless. It will ultimately end in defeat and hair loss. If we're lucky, we'll get an intimate encounter with teen idol Scott Baio out of it, though. That's what I would make a wish for anyway. If I were dying, I mean. Bush would probably wish for something more meaningful, though. Like a kiss from baby Jesus, or something. I'm not sure how he's going to share that with the nation, though. Me, I'd be on every talk show in the nation immediately after my fifteen seconds of glory with Scott.

No matter what the nation demands as its dying wish, it's gonna make great news. Oh, heavens, have we had some great news recently. Did you hear that the insurgency in Iraq is in its last throes? De Facto President Cheney said it himself, ‘and he predicts that the fighting will end before the Bush administration leaves office.’ If this is anything like the administration’s prediction about finding WMD’s in that fareign inspiration for Tatooine, we’re in for some smooth sailing soon enough.

Now that Cheney’s bald-headed confidence has quelled our fears for the future in Iraq we can worry about more pressing matters. Like that Menezes bastard in London who terrorized police by letting them pin him to the ground and shoot him dead. Man, what will those wily Islamists think of next?

This semantic change has sent a clear message to the rest of the world: Our God can beat up your god. We have thusly solved the problem facing our nation just as recasting the 'coloreds' of the 60's as 'blacks' solved all our problems in that era. Today, we call them 'African Americans' and with racism downgraded to its lowest level in decades their lives are better than ever!

Who knew it was so easy? After pouring only $200 billion into Iraq we have triumphed over the heathen masses with a simple turn of phrase. I mean, we haven't stopped them from insurging. Or from terroristing our allies in London or Egypt, apparently. But we have won the war on terror. And winning is all that matters. I learned that in Little League. I also learned that it's ok for grown men to touch your shapely eight-year-old ass, so long as they say 'good game'.

Now that we're no longer at war, civilians are being asked to join in on the fight, um, I mean struggle by watching for folks with clenched fists who sweat profusely. When next you see some fatty struggling desperately against his indigestion, you should be thinking 'oh shit, he's a terrerist!' And you should report him immediately to the Ministry of Truth for reeducation.

Officials urged citizens to ‘exercise common sense’ in ratting out their fellows. In hindsight, that isn't the same as saying ‘don’t be fucking retarded’. At the time the 'NO XING' sign was flashing redly inside their collective heads so this thought never crossed their minds. Until they visited a London subway. Then, the thought looked both ways, paused for a moped and started out onto thecerebral highway where it was promptly hit by a semi carrying a large shipment of 'what the fuck?'

Oh, man. I think we’re in trouble.

Copyright 2005