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No Picture Necessary: An UnChristmas Story, 2012, by Arthur Silber

By       Message Gentry L Rowsey     Permalink

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Well, sir, as best we can tell, they're pretty scraggly and dirty. And swarthy, you know? They certainly don't look like regular folks or decent people, you know, not like us. And of course, they're carrying those suspicious looking packages."

"You still don't know what's in them?"

"No, sir. We haven't been able to figure it out for sure. We've caught glimpses of things that look like they might be drugs. And a few glints of something that might be precious metal. As you know, that all fits the terrorist profile."

"Yes, it certainly does. Anything else?"

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"Some of the villagers have gone to the hut where the three men are now. From all the information we have, we think it must be a meeting of the local terrorist cell."

"And they're all together right now in that hut?"

"In the hut, or just outside it."

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"I see. Aw, f*ck it. Take 'em out."

"Yes, sir."

And lo, a drone was launched. It hit the designated target with perfect precision. That was unusual, but miracles happen sometimes. The three scraggly-looking men who had traveled so far, approximately 20 villagers who had gathered at the hut (which also happened to be a stable), and the new-born baby were all killed. And the baby's parents.

So there never was a Christmas.

Or Christianity.

Or history, at least the history you know for the last two thousand years.

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Stop with your pathetic whining. You wanted to be safe from terrorists. Those people were terrorists! All the recognized authorities said so. And that baby would have caused a whole lot of trouble. Might have advocated for the poor, hated the big finance guys, God knows what. Hey, God. What's the story with that mofo? Talk about trouble-makers.

So, once the matter was brought to the attention of superior officers (and even of Dear Leader, known to all for his weepy compassion and astonishingly gentle soul), and because the exact coordinates of God's location proved to be somewhat difficult to determine, a series of drone strikes was launched.

At which point, God said, to coin a phrase, "Aw, f*ck it." And He smote the whole f*cking world. He didn't even need a drone. He later insisted that Earth had only been a rough draft, an experiment that perhaps hadn't been planned with sufficient care, and He also emphasized that He had never said He was perfect. During his appearance before the Council of Superior Beings, He would acknowledge only that, "Mistakes were made..."

God as the Ultimate Ass-Covering Bureaucrat. You knew it was going to turn out like that, didn't you? Yeah, baby.

Happy Unholidays.


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I have a law degree (Stanford, 66') but have never practiced. Instead, from 1967 through 1977, I tried to contribute to the revolution in America. As unsuccessful as everyone else over that decade, in 1978 I went to work for the U.S. Forest (more...)

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