Slim, Well-informed, and Sane

Walter Agnew Moore II, Roving Reporter
4 January 2002, The Moore Hill-Country Compound, Bandera County, Republic of Texas

Well, dear readers, I certainly learned my lesson—no longer will I refer to my fellow Americans as "Fat, Ignorant, and Crazy" as I did in a previous post. No sir. Word got out, and as I was walking past a Shoney's All-You-Can-Eat Buffet Bar in a strip-mall down in Helotes, I was spotted, and the hue and cry went up. 40 or 50 "healthy" types spilled out the entrance after slapping the automated handicapped door-opener and came waddling after me, hot for my blood.

I was escaping nicely at a leisurely stroll, forgetting the animal cunning of my persecutors-- I looked up, and found that I was surrounded by a roaring ring of SUVs-- they had gone not for me, but for their cars, parked within inches of the restaurant entrance.

Oh Pride! You brought me low! I was roped down like a bawling calf and hung upside-down from the limb of a live-oak tree as the peasantry pummled me with empty big-gulp cups, danced to "Eye of the Tiger" and that song from "Top Gun", and chanted "Go back to Eye-rack y'damn lib'ral" and "We're number-one, we're number-one"...

Yes, I have learned. As a Good American, I will go back to doing what I do best, making fun of foreigners.

I do think it is ironic, though, seeing as how I am one of the few Americans after 11th September who has actually been overseas fighting toe-to-toe with the enemies of our nation. I have the scars to prove it. Well, not scars, but a bruise, if you look real close. Got it in a drunken scuffle outside a bar with a French dude who was talking smack about the USA. OK, so it's not much, but I bet it's more than you did, bumper-sticker-boy, tiny-flag-on-the-antenna-girl.

Sorry. I promised not to do that again. Please don't put me on a black-list.

THIS JUST IN: My sources in the CIA sent me this transcript from an interview with captured Taliban fighters.

CIA Field Agent Mike "Bucky" McTorture: Your name please?

Alhamdilla Al-Hazred Al-Ahmed: Alhamdilla Al-Hazred Al-Ahmed, praise Allah.

CIA: How long have you been a fighter for the Taliban?

AAA: Since I am 3, praise Allah, and I pick up my uncle Mustapha's AK-47 to play and I shoot the Norwegian Aid Workers who come to pollute our culture with food.

CIA: Why did you join the Taliban and not some other group?

AAA: Taliban is only group to follow Holy Koran, praise Allah. And they give me cigarettes.

CIA: Why did you finally decide to surrender?

AAA: HA! I laugh at death! I never surrender!

CIA: Yes you did, you surrendered, you cried like a little girl (mocking voice) "Don't shoot me pleeeeease don't shoot me", and now you are tied to that chair while I interview you.

AAA: Oh, "surrender". Ears not so good these days. Yes, praise Allah, I surrendered.

CIA: So what was it? The bombs? The cruise missiles? Special Forces commandos sneaking up into your camp and cutting throats in the dark?

AAA: No. These things are all tricks of Satan and the Jews. They have no--

CIA: Careful, boy-- my grammaw's Jewish...

AAA: And may Allah protect that noble lady! No-- in my village, as boy, we throw unexploded land-mine at each other for to laugh. Bomb is not to scare us. Missile is nothing. Knife in dark is only to tickle.

CIA: So...?

AAA: So I surrender because of bumper-stickers, because of little flags on car antennas, OK? I am proud man, brave man, but when I see Warm Fuzzy Feeling that American civilians have, I lose all hope. Allah, why did you desert me?

(tape ends in plaintive wailing, followed by the crack of a pistol shot, then silence)

There it is in black-and-white, citizens. Stand United, America! And if you were once in the Navy, always wear a ball-cap with your old ship's name on it! Oo-ah!