PI with Malice Aforethought: Nigel & Stella

[The Good Reverend Roger]

It's a Tuesday and you're doing a little shopping downtown.  Just another day, parking's a bitch, place is just a little too crowded, all your typical first world problems. 

But then...

But then...

BUT THEN...

The sky to the North goes impossibly bright, thank God you were facing South, because everyone who was looking is holding their eyes, blinded and screaming.  You scream, "WHAT THE FUCK IS HAPPENING?"

And Nigel says "Shhhhh."

Huh?

And Stella says "Hey, dude, maybe you want to get behind something solid?  Or maybe just lie down?"

What?  WHAT THE FUCK?  But your body is smarter than your brain, and you hit the ground behind one of those decorative stone walls, you know, the ones that are like two feet tall and it's a good thing because

BOOOOOOOOOM

And the noise is like a physical object, a wall of pain that also has a thermal component.  You look up, and it's raining crystals.  Shiny little crystals.  Little glass shards from every window in the area, spearing people as the shockwave lifts them off the street and slams them back down.  And if you thought it was loud a second ago, Holeeeeeey shit!  The noise is the entire universe, and you try to scream to that universe, "WHAT THE HELL WHAT THE HELL WHAT THE HELL"...

And Nigel says "Be quiet."

OH GOD YOU RECOGNIZE THE SHAPE OF THAT CLOUD OH GOD

And Stella says "You know, when everything stops flying around, maybe you want to get indoors or something.  Wash yourself off if you can find running water."

Then the universe all sort of falls on the ground at once, and you can dimly hear that sound has returned.  Car alarms going off, the crackle of fire, a dull roaring from the North...And this low "eeeeeeeeeee" that you eventually recognize as both A) Human and B) Coming from your own mouth.

You get up and stagger into the store in front of you, through the gaping hole where the plate glass window was.  You see where the missing glass went and what happened to the staff.

"HUUUUURRRRRRRUUUUUP" is the noise you make while you vomit.

And Nigel says "Shut up."

Staggering towards the back of the store.

And Stella says "Go into the bathroom.  There won't be any running water, so take a bitch bath with the toilet water.  And close the bathroom door and stick wet paper towels around it."

Not a bad idea, so you do that.  And you look at your iPhone, but it's dead, dead, dead. 

You start to cry.

And Nigel says "Hush".

You keep blubbering.

And Stella says "You only heard one go off.  This isn't a general war, it's some kind of terrorist attack or something."  She laughs.  "It was probably the government.  Just hang tight, someone will be along sooner or later.  Don't go outside.  Not until you know which way the wind is blowing.  Or 3 days.  Whichever comes first."

And so here you sit.  The world's coming to an end, and you're sitting on the toilet.  You start laughing.

And Nigel says "Shut up".

You can't stop laughing, it's rising and getting louder and louder.

And Stella says "Fuck it, Nigel, let's dance."

And there you have it.  You laughing and crying on a filthy public toilet, while Nigel and Stella dance to the beat of the car alarms and the screaming of the wounded.

Somehow, you'd always sort of expected this.

[Eater of Clowns]

 

[The Good Reverend Roger]

As much as some people may disagree with the following observations, I stand firmly by them. In the first place, Nigel's grand plan is to frog-march her critics into the nearest detention center or internment camp. I'm sure Mao Tse Tung would approve. In any case, Nigel is an oleaginous agelast. I'm being super-extra nice when I say that. If I weren't so polite I instead would have stated that Nigel has been trying for some time to sell the public on a pharisaism-based government. Her sales pitch proceeds both pragmatically and emotionally. The pragmatic argument: It's okay to leave the educational and emotional needs of our children in the litigious hands of tyrannical sciolists. The emotional argument: It is patriotic to make my worst nightmares come true. As you can see, neither argument is valid, which should indicate to you that Nigel likes to talk about how she is a spokeswoman for God. The words sound pretty until you read between the lines and see that Nigel is secretly saying that she intends to clear forests, strip the topsoil, and turn a natural paradise into a dust bowl through a self-induced drought.

At the risk of repeating myself, I must reiterate that Nigel is trying to squeeze every last drop of blood from our overworked, overtaxed bodies. Her mission? To project a stream of arrogant images of death, sex, disaster, material goods, celebrities, and other fixtures in a mock-Olympian firmament. You might have heard the story that she once agreed to help us wage war on revisionism. No one has located the document in which Nigel said that. No one has identified when or where Nigel said that. That's because she never said it. As you might have suspected, Nigel's programs of Gleichschaltung are as predictable as sunrise. Whenever I make plans and carry them out, her invariant response is to alter, rewrite, or ignore past events to make them consistent with her current "reality".

Nigel, please spare us the angst of living in a fallen world. Given what I know about contumacious sots, I can say with confidence that she wants to cashier anyone who tries to lift the fog from her thinking. Why she wants that, I don't know, but that's what she wants. Comments on the above are welcome, but please think them out first.

[The Good Reverend Roger]

Recent troubling developments prompt me to revisit a subject I've discussed in the past: Stella and her plan to subvert our country's legal system. And that's why I feel compelled to say something about xenophobic flakes. I wonder what would happen if she really did inspire a recrudescence of vile fatuity. There's a spooky thought. Anyone who has spent much time wading through the pious, obscurantist, jargon-filled cant that now passes for "advanced" thought in the humanities already knows that she considers it her calling to preach the gospel of Pyrrhonism to every living creature. What may be news, however, is that if natural selection indeed works by removing the weakest and most genetically unfit members of a species then Stella is clearly going to be the first to go.

You may find it instructive to contrast the things I like with the things that Stella likes. I like listening to music. Stella likes purging the land of every non-headstrong person, gene, idea, and influence. I like kittens and puppies. Stella likes making the pot of fetishism overboil and scald the whole world. I like spending time with friends. Stella likes threatening anyone who's bold enough to state that the time has arrived to make a choice between freedom and slavery, revolt and submission, liberty and subservience. We must choose wisely, knowing that if we expose some of Stella's more dubious financial dealings, we can live as truly free and empowered human beings. If, however, we let Stella move increasingly towards the establishment of a totalitarian Earth, we become little more than fearful, broken dogs condemned to exist in a world of reckless libertinism.

Stella proclaims at every opportunity that she'd never introduce changes without testing them first. The lady doth protest too much, methinks. One of her satraps once said, "Stella is a refined lady with the soundest education and morals you can imagine." Now that's pretty funny, of course, but I didn't include that quote just to make you laugh. I included it to convince you that Stella is trying to create a stuck-up world of guilt and shame. Her mission? To distract attention from more important issues. I would like to close by saying that from the very beginning, insolent troglodytes have labored to recruit into their ranks the sons and daughters of the powerful, famous, and rich.

[Anna Mae Bollocks]

I'm only trying to help. 

[LMNO]

That's.... An impressively radical switch in narrative tones, Roger. Nicely done.


Also, the first post can also be used to describe your work toilet after vindaloo night.

[The Good Reverend Roger]

Also, the first post can also be used to describe your work toilet after vindaloo night.

No, the shockwave would get there before the light did.

[Mesozoic Mister Nigel]

Fucking EXCELLENT!!!  That sounds like my kind of party.