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Paranoia 101
By Keyser Sushi

I went to the mall the other day and noticed, not for the first time, what a gargantuan bunch of imbeciles the human race is, in general, devolving into. First, there are the staggeringly obese white-trash that walk as slow as they want in the middle of the fucking aisles with one finger in their nose and the ass end of their mullet sweeping the floor behind them. That’s me jumping up and down in rage just trying to take TWO FUCKING STEPS past them to get into Suncoast.

Then there’s the Food Court, rife with fourteen year-old whores and their twelve year-old pimps, and anemic kids with hair the color of dish-soap and oddly phosphorescent drool. Their pants are big enough to hide Jimmy Hoffa and Elvis. Together. Having a three-way with Amelia Earhart. But I’m not really here to comment on any of that. What’s really starting to put a dull ache in that odd little spot between my eyes these days are these paranoid motherfuckers who seem to have descended from Outer Suburbia en masse in some strange, Carter-Wachowski black-pleather mothership.

You know the ones – they’re the pale little black-haired motherfuckers in trenchcoats and they truly believe that at any given moment, they could flip sideways in slow motion through the air while simultaneously firing two paintball guns, if only mommy would front them the cash to buy them. It’s a pretty tragic irony that the most paranoid guys in the whole world make themselves the easiest possible bastards to spot in a crowd, isn’t it? I guess it gives them something to be truly paranoid about, outside of getting home in time for supper and the latest homoerotic episode of “Friends.”

I shouldn’t be too hard on the paranoid, though. I mean I can’t entirely blame them. A few months back I quit a steady, well paying job because those corporate bastards were trying to brainwash me. Oh yes, and it was working, too! I was “gainfully employed” by a company that prints junk mail, and not just any junk mail but Catholic Conservative junk mail! Day after day, their little Papal ejaculations about saving valuable Aryan sperm from an untimely death on the fetid carpet of some satanic tree-hugging college student would come oozing across my desk, and I had to proofread them, until gradually they corrupted my brain to their ways. To this day, I can only masturbate after shampooing the carpet. It’s very bizarre.

I finally quit the job one Friday when their mind-control transceiver must have broken, thereby allowing me to muster the strength of will to fight back. On my first morning of freedom, I slept in for three hours, which means I actually was able to wait until after the goddamned sun rose to get out of bed. I turned on the TV hoping to find a good cartoon or two to watch, but there were none! Not even some shitty Hanna-Barbara two-dimensional pap smear that would make South Park look like Ninja Scroll. Nothing!

Then Morpheus appeared to me. Or maybe it was Tim White, it’s all kind of fuzzy now. But nevertheless, he showed me a great deal of highly classified information that was so secret and sensitive that it could only be broadcast on national television. It seems that there is truly a HUGE amount of things to be paranoid about in this world, and some of them might be happening right in a cow-pasture near you!

For many years now, farmers have been waking up to find their fields carved with geometric and generally circular patters, or their cows bloodlessly butchered and left mangled and discarded on the ground. Now I believe in aliens, but I don't know if they're making circles in crops or not. Sure, aliens *could* be doing it, but why would an advanced species make pictures in wheat and turn cows inside out? Is the universal translator broken? Do they not know how to use the phone? Maybe they’re making fun of us, playing mind-games with us. Do they get drunk and steal their daddy's flying saucer for one wild night of bacchanalian space sex-madness? If so, where do I sign up? Because that alien in the autopsy video kind of turns me on.

Sure, some people blame the Government, and maybe there would be some scientific value in mutilating a cow, I mean I could buy that, they’re pretty tasty after all, but why would they need to borrow Farmer Begay’s cows to do it? I pay my taxes, and based on what they took from me last year alone, the government can buy their own damn cows, I’m sure. And then there are the crop circles – what possible scientific or technological value is there in granular hieroglyphics? None.

That’s why I’ve come to the final conclusion that the government WANTS people to be paranoid! It makes sense, think about it. All those de-classified files with every third black bar interrupted by a word, it’s MEANT to make you curious. On every TV show about conspiracy theories, some retired military guy puts his wizened, bearded face right out there, “Yes, I’m Bob Fuckman, and I used to be with the Air Force, and I was there the night the twenty-foot neon-dildo appeared over Devil’s Kidney, Nebraska. They told us never to tell nobody about this, and none of the other two-hunnert guys what seen it were willin’ to, so I knew I had to say my piece and the consequences be damned! Ahem. It was a dark and stormy night…”

Why don’t any men in black bust in and shoot his ass before he can spill any information? Why don’t they haul him off to the nuthatch and give him the Jack Nicholson Special? Because the government WANTS him to spill this shit! Odds are, they scripted it for him and PAID HIM to do it! After all, government work is boring, and even CIA guys need a good laugh sometimes, so they’re laughing at YOU. If you need to be paranoid, be paranoid about that, because it’s not safe to be publicly paranoid anymore. You’re just giving them what they WANT! At the end of the day – they’re not coming. And it’s YOU they’re not after. 

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