Once upon a time in a land rich and oh so poor, there was a man who published a magazine. He had always believed that there were 'good' people and 'bad' people. In his magazine, he set about to proving that this was so. His publishings, written in a strange language few could decipher, nevertheless had great influence in the land. For repeatedly, when translated for the masses, the other language would be much more terse and simple. So when he would publish a paper in his magazine with the title: "Tersed based inhibitors, X factors and GeneGeneGene coinhabitors in Human Excretory Function", the translation in the other language would be simply: "Shit Happens!"

Now the publisher was not the only person who held these beliefs. In fact, the majority in the land of the free and the home of the knaves held these same beliefs dearly. They welcomed each new confirmation that 'good' people rise to the top because they are superior to begin with, and the 'bad' people are bad from the word go.

Everywhere in this land, nay! -- everywhere on a planet where the land was -- people were breeding. In fact, in others lands it was known as The Land of the Breeders. Although the land had already filled quite rapidly as a result of all this breeding, this did not deter the breeders. Many of their religions ordered them to breed. Others did it absent-mindedly.

Now the owners of this land had lots of stuff to sell and lots of people to buy it. They were doing very well and enjoying all this immensely. They knew quite well that they would not be here when the land filled and became a parking lot. In addition, the people who worked for the men who owned the land were quite content to spend their pay on trinkets and visual diversions from their otherwise sad but busy lives.

What the Publisher had in mind was to go a step further. If these 'bad' people were bad because of their wiring, their circuitry, the bits and pieces that hold them together -- well, that could be fixed! And, the owners quickly saw a good thing. Something else to sell -- machines, tools, chemicals, grants, honoraria, cash. This industry soon began to flourish and the Publisher smiled.

Now comes the bad part. There were people living in the land (often it was they who were considered 'bad') and they did not believe either that they were 'bad', or that anything was wrong with their wires. These people were a nuisance. Thankfully, they were small in numbers. They were most annoying when they would write or shout out references to some Holocaust, an event far removed from this land's shores and mind. Everyone knew that!

One day the Publisher called in his staff. "Those cocksuckers! Those women who eat pussy. That stuff. Get me something on that. Better yet, get one of them to write it! Perfect!

One of the staff objected softly, for he was one who sucked cock also. "Mr. Publisher. This is a very sensitive area..."

Mr. Publisher exploded: "Sensitive! Oh shit! Better yet! Oh I see...you mean we might have trouble getting one of them..... How long have you been here boy?"

"A year Mr. Publisher, sir."

"Well get this, boy, and get it straight!"

With all his anger he missed the pun.

"You can get anyone to do anything for fame and money. Find some flunky. That guy working on pigeon feet....you know. Who the hell wants to work with pigeon feet anyway? Don't put anything in writing. No details. Just promise him lots of exposure in the media and some money.....Now don't go overboard on that last part! Next?"

And, low and behold the flunky was found and he did his work well. He became famous overnight, which is the only way to do it, of course. Everyone knew that! The cocksuckers and pussy eaters were happy too. Most of them. For they had long secretly felt just awful about themselves. And now! Well...they celebrated like they had never celebrated before and, believe me that was something to accomplish! They loved to dance. Everybody knew that!

And, the land of the breeders continued to flourish. Forever and ever.

There was this one dude however, who kept walking the land shouting: Ah! Men!

Frank Aqueno, June 1997

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