Return to Sender

What hard times these must be for paranoids. You've got to wonder how many "What About Bobs" are going to have their homes foreclosed because they don't dare go to the mail box. Not to mention the postal workers? These are people known for spraying gunfire around the office during ordinary times. Goodness--talk about a recipe for disaster, just add powder and stir. What I want to know is where's Bill Clinton now that the country needs him so desperately? Who better to instruct his fellow Americans on the finer points of not inhaling?

Actually I haven't got much room to talk--the other day I got an insect bite on my arm that swelled right up to the exact CNN description and size of a cutaneous Anthrax infection. "Good Lord--they must be going after all of us big-shot media-guys" I thought as I started combing the internet for signs of hope. As it turned out, it wasn't too bleak. My chances of survival were 95 percent, and I figured if I were lucky enough to really be infected with the easy-to-cure type of Anthrax, I could turn it into a ton of cheap publicity for my website. "Mormon Smartass Targeted By Terrorists--Details at zboneman.com" I could've got a million hits. Alas the promising blemish shrank along with my hopes for widespread exaltation--my little jokes destined to remain an isolated outbreak.

Though technically I wouldn't classify myself as a paranoid, I may have a few symptoms. When I was a young lad I had this nutty Sunday School teacher who was obsessed with the Second Coming. Week in and week out the only thing he ever taught us about Jesus came courtesy of Revelations. We didn't hear anything about the Messiah's gentle nature, the forgiveness and the healing--the Jesus we envisioned was more like Godzilla. The wrath, the gnashing of fire, the cleansing of teeth, plus other stuff I think he made up in case the scriptural account didn't traumatize our 10 year old punk minds, to his satisfaction. "Exploding cats," "flying monkeys with grenades"--even at Christmastime he was all about, "You won't be singing Jingle Bells when he comes next time, my young friend. You'll be asking Santa for a fire extinguisher."

Anyway, it left me kind of messed-up. To this day if I see a moon that's even borderline orange, I'm tempted to hit the dirt. It always gives me a bad case of the "when am I ever gonna repent," willies.

I'm exaggerating a bit about the effect of my Sunday School teacher, in fact I may have grown up and forgotten all about it if I'd never seen The Omen. The Omen set me firmly on a strange road that I still travel today. A calling you might say, however self-declared, as Earth's official anti-Christ watchdog. That's me. At one time or another I've suspected everybody from Idi Amin to Andrew Dice Clay. (Andrew . . . Andy . . . Andy Christ?) I used to get carried away. (To my credit I never suspected Andy Griffith--but the fact that he was a smoker didn't escape my vigilant surveillance.)

Of course I went through a big Saddam Hussein phase, but these days I'm pretty much convinced that Osama bin Laden is the genuine article--scramble those letters and you can come pretty close to "Satan's Son Named Ned." NED! What a fool I've been for wasting all this energy looking for an Andy! Ned--that's it!!! I suppose Ned sounds more like an accountant than the anti-Christ, but check it out--I've done my homework. As it turns out the Arabic translation for Ned is "The Beast with Teeth of Fire," or the slightly different Hindu slant, "Mediocre Dentist." This is where the gnashing of teeth comes back into play. You're with me, right?

You see this Ned is a wily customer. He's a charmer just like his old pop. Seemingly overnight, he's hijacked a religion that comprises a large part of the worlds population and perverted it into an instrument of hate. That sounded kind of harsh, I guess, particularly in light of the fact that it's the world's good, normal Muslims that are getting screwed-over the worst. It was tough enough for the law-abiding citizens of the Muslim persuasion after the Towers went down, but when Ned issued his statement that it was the duty of all Muslims the world over to contribute to the destruction of America, he buggered Ôem but good.

I don't think "Dread Ned and the Talabastards" hate America, half as much as they hate their fellow Muslims who've made their way out of the desert to join us here in the "Wicked West." Watching HBO, grabbing a Happy Meal on the way to The Gap--they've got to really hate that. Obviously he doesn't give a crap about any of these "happy Gappers," because if this Anthrax business goes any too much further, it'll turn us all into racial profilers. Hey--the truth sucks. What are you going to do when that guy down the block with the dark complexion and funny accent brings over a plate of Christmas goodies? Caught up in the spirit of the season, you're going to put on a pair of rubber mittens, wrap a scarf around your face, grab a ziplock and some tongs and merrily bury the deadly Rice Krispie bars in the back yard. Love thy neighbor my ass. Like I say, the truth sucks.

For some reason CNN has stopped showing us the footage from the burning towers, and the hundreds of innocent souls treated to a horribly violent murdering, but they sure seem to want us feel bad for the handful of innocents killed as a result of "Operation Whatever." CNN, guess what--we understand that this is bad, but it was Ned who picked the fight, and he doesn't seem to give a rat's ass about anybody's life. My guess is that much of the carnage they broadcast is staged by the enemy, and, to be honest, if I'm a starving Afghan trudging around in the driven sand, squinting my eyes to find a package of parachute peanut butter, faced with the prospect of a life without ever seeing a naked woman, I think I might welcome the quick ticket to paradise. But that's just me--I'm against women all wrapped up so you can't tell your date from a raisin. This much alone proves they're crazy. Not that bombing the crap out of a country sandwiched between other equally unstable nations armed to the teeth with nukes isn't plenty crazy. What I'm trying to say is that, if you can believe Sunday School teachers, we're doomed. In fact I'm gonna go out on a limb with the FBI and predict a 100% chance of something else bad happening.

If I maybe predict one thing that's particularly going to suck, is the certainty that within a year, maybe two, we American taxpayers will be shelling out billions for the privilege of having our junk mail irradiated. Thanks Ned.

Looking ahead toward the Holidays conjures up the notion of Anthrax stuffing, poison pie, potatoes and grave--maybe Ebola cereal for breakfast. The only good news I'm privy to as far as the whole Anthrax thing is concerned, is that we'll probably get a helping hand from our friends in organized crime. The Mob makes hundreds of millions of dollars on the various powders of the world, and they're not likely to cotton to anybody contributing to the "fear of powder." They know a good bit more than the CIA and FBI about what's happening on the street and anybody discovered raining on the powder parade might just meet with a quick dose of Soprano justice. Whatever. Justice is justice. We need all the help we can get. Next time you see a mobster give him a friendly pat on the back and tell him to keep up the good work. Just like him, we're looking to get America back to business as usual.