I was honored and humbled by
the secret summons. Not many people have heard of the Patriotic Order
of the Sphincter, but you and I and every red-blooded American owe the
remaining freedoms we have to this noble organization.
Sphincter security was tight. Honor and the
blindfold I was forced to wear prevent me from revealing the whereabouts
of POOTS headquarters. Suffice to say, I was ushered into the presence
of the Grand Quizmaster for a private interview.
"Welcome, Johnny Jingo," said
the GQ, adjusting his hood. "I'm glad you could come, for the very
future of the Free World may depend on you. As you may know, we at
POOTS do not seek glory for ourselves. We are a selfless organization
that strives only to restore the United States of America to its pristine,
pre-60's condition. We do research into the causes of the decline
and decay of this once-great nation and attempt to root those causes out.
The intellectual organizing principle we utilize is the Riddle of the Sphincter.
If you haven't heard it, here it is:
What walks on four legs in the morning,
on two legs in the afternoon,
and on three legs in the evening?
We haven't been able to figure it out yet, but
we think we're close."
"Um, that's the Riddle of the ...," I began, but
thought better of it. Sphinx, sphincter. What's the difference?
I didn't want to cast doubt on the underpinnings of this great organization.
Anyway, I don't know what the darn thing means either.
The GQ screwed up his face
thoughtfully, not a difficult task, and then continued.
"We have identified the causes of rot: homosexuality,
women's lib, abortion, drugs, illegal aliens, non-Christians (especially
Jews), mud races (especially Jews), welfare, Chinese espionage, not enough
guns, the public school system, and "whole language." That's the
easy part. We have reason to believe that there is a common link
among these streams of decay. Finding that is the hard part.
That's why we thought of you, Johnny Jingo. You are the embodiment
of everything this country stands for: White, male, straight, Christian,
and ... all that. Will you help us? No! Will you help
your country!"
Well, there was only one answer
to that. After settling my fee, that is.
"I don't know what that common link is," I said.
"But I know how to find out."
I caught the witch in the act.
Everything was just as I had suspected: voodoo and drug paraphernalia
scattered all over the palatial, but filthy, apartment; unkempt little
mongrel children in every corner; a tattered American Flag tossed carelessly
over the heathen altar. In either hand she held clays of different
colors, about to smush them together and rub them on the Flag! In
a single step, I crossed the floor and struck the instruments of evil from
her hands.
"Hah! Just as I suspected! Performing
voodoo on the American Flag! There will be no more race-mixing today!"
I exclaimed in righteous anger.
"Who the heck are you?" she
asked. "And what are you doing in my apartment?"
"I'm Johnny Jingo, Special Agent for POOTS, in the
service of the American People!" I snapped, flashing my credentials.
"You are the one who has been causing American society to disintegrate!"
"Curse you, Johnny Jingo!"
she shrieked. "How did you find me?"
"It was simple," said I contemptuously. "I
just fed all the rot factors into the computer and got a profile.
You are the only one who fit the profile perfectly. You're a Black,
female, Lesbian, non-Christian, drug-dealing illegal Haitian immigrant
on welfare who once had an abortion. And you consort with known Chinese
and once worked at a U.S. nuclear laboratory. Furthermore, you went
through the public school system and never studied phonics!"
"How did you know that?" she
snarled.
"I know your kind! Only one thing threw me
off at first: you own a gun. But then I noticed some fishy
details. You only own one gun, and it's legally registered.
And the clincher: you endured a three-day waiting period to get it!
Pretty clever, but not clever enough. And to think that I almost
went after Whoopi Goldberg instead!"
She gave a twisted smile.
"I needed the gun for my American Flag voodoo!" she confessed. "What
do you think has been causing all those shootings in the schools?
Any time I want to speed up the disintegration of American society, I just
desecrate the Flag a little more. A little burning for race riots.
A few feminist graffiti to accelerate the demise of Family Values."
She seemed proud. I noticed the bullet holes in the Flag.
"You disgust me," I told her. "The tax dollars
of hardworking Americans provided this luxurious welfare palace for you,
and you can't even keep it clean! Of course, your kind never can."
"So what?" she hissed.
"What are you going to do about it? You're no match for me, Johnny
Jingo! I've had every affirmative action break in the book.
What kind of education have you had?"
"I went to school on vouchers!" I shot back.
"Parochial school!" She was temporarily stunned, but not defeated.
"Whole language!" she spat.
"Phonics!" I countered.
"Voodoo practitioner!"
"Christian!"
"Illegal alien!"
"Native-born American!"
I had her on the run.
She played her trump card.
"It doesn't matter," she said. "You can't
stop me! The Supreme Court protects my right to desecrate this Flag.
It's a free speech issue." She cackled loudly.
"It's those bleeding hearts,
like Rehnquist," I agreed. But I had a trump of my own. I whipped
out the Flag Desecration Amendment and shoved it in her face.
"Nooooo!!!" she shrieked pitifully. "Look
what you've done! Who would have thought that a straight white Christian
male like you could undo all my beautiful evil! What a world!
What a world!"
And with that, she crumbled
into a little pile of dust.
No need to thank me. It's all in a day's work.