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Published December 11, 2008


The Joe America series took flight like an old serial radio program and people tuned in each day at six o’clock to find out what kind of peril Joe might find himself or his country in. Rudy, being a bit of a Batman fan, not a serious comic book collector just a few special issues, one signed by the artist himself at a local convention, which Rudy went to only for this particular artist and wasn’t dressed in black at all and had properly showered before hand. So, from the pages of Batman and with help of a dozen cups of coffee with cream and 5 ounces of sugar per cup, Rudy created Joe America. From the radio scripts, GOD created a comic book, illustrated by Rudy’s favorite comic book artist, C.D. Smith which Rudy has professionally framed and has resting in his cubicle. GOD put on a special signing event where Rudy and C.D. Smith sat side by side in hard plastic chairs and thousands of people leaned uncomfortably close over the table to have their comic books signed. Even for Rudy, a bit of a cynic, it was overwhelming and gave his ego a temporary boost, which resulted in, or at least help lead to the inevitable discontinuation of his second engagement. Yes, even comic book writers have groupies and Rudy just can’t seem to say “No” when the groupie happens to be young, attractive and willing and by God pretty damn able too. Christ, Rudy simply can’t say no.

 

Doubts have surfaced now however, within the self that is Rudy, in the deeper regions past personal pride and the place where the words, “A job well done,” continually echo. There’s a tremor of guilt when he thinks of how he has exploited the terror aspect of all things that were once considered normal. How he has spread the information of fear, which Peter Swanson, GOD’s Creative Director, seems to have at his fingertips, the latest discoveries and findings of the shallow places of Americans psyche and how Rudy has used this mysterious information and become successful for maybe the first time in his life. Maybe, Rudy muses, this is what the KGB felt like in the golden days when the Kremlin was brimming over with propaganda and paranoia. Or the Nazi’s in Berlin, the SS as they infiltrated German society with pretty persuasion. Indeed, those were the days when the State really meant something, when looking over your shoulder was just a way of life and when daddy didn’t come home you knew where he was and yes, it wasn’t eternal but I bet it felt like it. Rudy knows that deep down he’d never make it as a Nazi or KGB but those must’ve been heady times. When the propaganda machine was well oiled and ran full tilt to keep the state’s dream alive.

 

But now with the war over and the whole thing over there being a matter of simple occupation, the tide has changed and the stakes are higher for the President to convince the average American that everything is going to be okay, that it was indeed a necessary evil to waged this war on Iraq, a country once known to feature anti-American propaganda as the movie of week. The movies, as well as being low budget and poorly directed, even the porn scenes were terribly done with actors dressed as sheep and “Baaing,” all the time, only created culturally confused Muslims who now feel that if Jesus Christ Himself isn’t coming back, the United States just might take to fulfilling the prophecies themselves and create their own second coming. It’s getting more difficult to tell one from the other and even more impossible to pull the wool over the proverbial eyes of the people.

 

This has put GOD at a crossroads; no more soft selling, they need something heavy and of course they’re looking toward Rudy to come up with something big in time for the Republican National Convention. Let’s face it flags on coffee mugs aren’t going to cut it anymore. Fake hand grenades that play the star spangled banner when the pin is pulled are a little to light for these times. “This ain’t no party, this ain’t no disco, this ain’t no fooling around….”


The men, who truly operate GOD, lie perched far away in their heavenly positions and are completely invisible to everyone. The VP is the unspoken archangel of GOD, the white-winged death messenger himself. They’re all behind the dark glass, always looking in like a good old-fashioned peeping Tom, something like Charlie’s Angels without the attractive women. On each advertisement, be it a brochure, commercial, magazine or newspaper GOD gives credit to a group called Citizens for a Safer U.S. This is another way they can pull the strings without being seen. The only thing that can be truly said about this powerful group of white men is that they enjoy puppets and the hand variety of puppet seems to be there preference. Nothing like one dick in the hand with the other pulling the string that lifts the blinds of power’s bedroom. My God, is this heaven? It’s like a blind man committing the perfect crime.

“You’re not thinking about jumping are you,” asks Peter, the backbone of this mock firm as he pulls up next to Rudy who is still staring out the window.

“No, someone would probably just catch me,” Rudy laments.

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