Invisible Knuckle ChildrenMarch 17, 2012
When I don’t have time for bullshit, I let an angry British man give me a synopsis…
I’m one of the few people who hasn’t watched that KONY 2012 video online about that guy in Uganda who looks like Rudy Ray Moore recruiting children into his genocidal army (which, I’m surprised to find, is the not the plot of any Rudy Ray Moore movie). I mean, 30 minutes? I could watch about 20 Maru videos in that time. So I didn’t get swept up in KONY-mania, which I have distilled into one sentence: “White people just found out something really bad happened in Africa!” I’m just glad our musical artists didn’t gather together to belt out a 2012 version of “We are the World” or “Do They Know It’s Christmas.”
I don’t tell you that to beam with unwarranted pride about the effectiveness of my early-warning bullshit detector, I tell you this so I can bring up that the guy in charge of KONY-MANIA! just got caught jacking off in public, or as I like to say: KONY THE BONY (and he’s really going at it too)!
Jason Russell, 33, was taken into custody after he was found masturbating in public, vandalizing cars and possibly under the influence of something, according to Lt. Andra Brown. He was detained at the intersection of Ingraham Street and Riviera Road.
And the funny thing… Bernie the Half Cyborg Cat is relieved to hear this. So I ask him why.
“Because now people won’t give a shit about Joseph Kony and they won’t go find him,” says Bernie the Half-Cyborg Cat. “He’s my fall guy.”
“Fall guy for what?” I say.
“For the army of children I raised to romp through Uganda,” says Bernie the Half-Cyborg Cat.
“Why would you need an army of children?” I say.
“Because I hate children,” says Bernie the Half-Cyborg Cat. “None of them know how to properly pet a cat. And they chase you around, pull your tail, make too much noise when you’re trying to get some quality nap time… so I figured let’s put all that energy to good use and have them kill people. Win/win for the felines.”
“Okay, so why Uganda?” I say.
“Test run,” says Bernie. “Plus it was much easier to raise a child army than in some other place, like Sweden. Fuckin’ Swedes… give a country universal health care and awesome internet access and their children don’t feel like taking arms against whomever I point them at.”
“And you were worried that KONY 2012 video would make people find Kony and then he’d tell everyone you were the brains behind the child army operation in Uganda,” I say.
“But now that Mr. Invisible Children guy got picked up by the cops for raising awareness of his penis, I can keep people blaming Kony,” says Bernie.
“This is like when you were running that illegal dog fighting ring with Michael Vick,” I say. “You seem to have a knack for getting people to blame the black guy for things you do. Are you a racist kitty?”
“No, but I know how to wrangle the souls of Americans,” says Bernie with a purr. “Half of them have been blaming a black guy for almost four years for shit he hasn’t done. Obama’s taking away all our guns. Obama’s feeding old, sick people to the death panel wood-chipper. Obama’s setting fire to all the Catholic churches. Fuck, the Screaming Head on the Radio hit his funny bone on his desk and blamed it on Obama. In the southern states of this country, blaming black people is the third most-popular pastime behind passive-aggression and warding off cognitive dissonance*. So don’t you dare look down on me just because I can skillfully speak the hateful language of you primitive beasts and manipulate your feeble wills like you were marionettes dangling from my skillful paws. I’m not the monster, I’m just holding up the mirror.”
“So you’re saying your racism has a point to it,” I say. “But the child army was just for shits and giggles? That kind of sounds awful, Bernie.”
Bernie shrugs his kitty shoulders. “Probably. But at least I don’t make propaganda movies and choke the custard-chucker in public. Now let’s find some boxes to play in.”
Sometimes hanging out with a half-cyborg cat that has a high level of contempt for humanity can be a trying ordeal.
* The fourth-most favorite pastime is living vicariously through high school football.