On Friday, even as the demented ur-human Wayne LaPierre, chief primate of the National Retrovert Association, was yammering on camera that the nation’s schools should be bedecked with guns, in order to combat the menace of guns, some nutbag ran amok in Pennsylvania, with a gun, shooting up six people, including a woman decorating a church for Christmas.
Now, Pennsylvania has enough problems. Much of the place still glows in the dark, thanks to Three Mile Meltdown. In the state’s potato-chip factories, disgruntled deep-fried crisps are plotting rebellion. And the thing is almost impossible to spell—the “y,” “l, and “v,” are constantly getting confused, bumbling about changing places.
So, I decided, the last thing Pennsylvania needs is guns. Therefore, a giant magnet should be passed over the state, which would suck up all the guns.
Recalling from the documentary film Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer that Santa Claus, generally renowned as a communistic gift-giver, as well occasionally actually snatches objects from homes—besides the well-known pilfering of milk and cookies, Santa, the Rudolph documentary informs us, also scoops up neglected toys, which he deposits on the Island Of Misfit Toys, until they can be later delivered to children who more Want them—I decided to enquire if the chronically obese ho-ho human would be interested in getting in on the gun-magnet action.
The dude was busy, as might be expected, but I managed to get him on the horn, there at the North Pole.
“Santa,” I said, “this year, as usual, I have been both naughty and nice—it’s a quantum thing—and I was wondering if, this year for Christmas, I could get you to attach a giant magnet to your sleigh, and with it suck up all the guns in Pennsylvania, as you fly by.”
Santa, a Nordic deity, and therefore wiser than I, declared that this seemed a good idea, but that it would probably be best to suck up all the guns—all over the world.
And so, that is what is to happen.
A band of elves has just departed the Manor, having pressganged into temporary service Big Buck, Billy Buck Naked, White Head, Mr. Spindly Horns, Mr. Broken Horn, No You Can’t Get Through The Hole In The Fence With Those Antlers You Big Oaf, and various assorted different-one deer who usually hang around here as welfare recipients: these people are required as additional sleigh-pullers, since the vehicle is going to get damn heavy, with all those guns.
Because all the guns are going. Not just the pistols, rifles, and assault-insanities in the clinging hands of fear-possessed people and the police. But also every death-spewer—from pea-shooter to tank to aircraft carrier—owned and controlled by the world’s perfectly useless militaries. Santa is grabbing it all. To be transported back to the workshop, there to be melted down and transformed into toys.
It’s happening. Tonight. Watch for it.