Why Kill When You Can Dance! Dance! Dance!?

By John Saleeby
September, 16, 2001

Many years ago when I was in The Army we saw a live TV news report about a horrible mass murder that occurred in a McDonalds somewhere. When our Commanding Officer exclaimed "My God! How can you pull out a gun in a fast food restaurant full of women and children and start shooting at everybody?" I said "Guess you've never been in a fast food restaurant full of women and children." Thirty-six hours later I was on a top-secret mission against a falafel stand in Baghdad.

Cause, come on - Face it, deep down inside each and every one of us there is a bloodthirsty psychotic serial killer just waiting to take over and the only way to control The Killer Inside is to get him knocked out on Long Island Iced Teas, dress him up on a Little Lord Fauntleroy Outfit, and make him sing "Animal Crackers In My Soup" on a subway platform in front of all the Black guys. But what about that other guy deep down inside who would just LOVE to have a few Long Island Iced Teas, dress up like Little Lord Fauntleroy, and do a lil' Song And Dance for the Fellas? My God, let that douchebag run the show and next thing you know you'll be running your very own Hollywood movie studio with Steven Spielberg and Jerry Katzenberg! Let that clown get the wheel and there's only one way to hit the brakes - Get your sorry ass out there and KILL SOMEBODY!

These happy thoughts were first brought to mind by the two separate killing sprees that recently occurred in Sacramento, California - Home of Acid Logic editor, Wil Forbis. In fact, I was genuinely surprised to learn that Forbis was not one of the victims of these attacks. I've never even met Forbis, but from my dealings with him I am pretty sure that if I did meet him I would be trying to murder him pretty damn quick. And as horrible a person as Forbis is, I am sure that killing him would be such a pleasure I'd just go right on killing people until Roy Scheider shoved an oxygen tank into my mouth and blew it up by shooting it with an M-1 rifle. But no, Forbis was not killed. Apparently he is as difficult to target as Osama bin Laden.

First, some Ukrainian psycho slaughtered his whole family cause he thought they were trying to poison him. Hey, don't laugh - Every time I'm driving around with my Dad looking for something to eat he always tries to get me to eat at ARBY'S!

"Mmm, there's an Arby's. You wanna eat at Arby's?"

"Dad, how many times do I gotta tell ya this story? I ate a coupla Arby's roast beef sandwiches last winter and I damn near died!"

"Aw, c'mon! Let's have a coupla roast beef sandwiches!"

"NOOOOO!!! I ate a coupla them things and three hours later I'm laying on my bathroom floor sweatin' my ass off and prayin' for Jesus to come down and put me outta my misery!"

"It won't happen again, ya big queer! C'mon - ARBY'S! ARBY'S! ARBY'S!"

"No! No! No! No! I was pukin' my guts out! I was hallucinatin' that the bathroom tiles had little Peter Lorre faces! My soul left my body and went up into the medicine cabinet and hid behind a bottle of Nyquil!!"

"Aw, let's have some roast beef sandwiches and french fries!"

The man is clearly out to kill me and the whole family is in cahoots with him. I'd kill 'em all right now but I'm gonna wait until I have a pregnant wife like that nutty Ukrainian dude.

So that was bad, but then another Sacromentosian went on a shooting spree cause he lost his job and his girlfriend. Sounds like someone's been listening to too many Bruce Springsteen records. Getting dumped by a broad and getting the sack has really gotta be some kinda drag. Nothing like that has ever happened to me, of course, I'm much too happening a guy to have ever experienced that kinda humiliation. Whenever I have the feeling that I'm about to get the ol' heave ho from my woman or my boss, ( Hey, what's the difference? Haw haw haw! ) I swing into preemptive action - I de-pants them and go gaily prancing off into the awful night singing "Hey, Non Nonny And A Ha Cha Cha!". But most guys don't have that kinda moral fiber (Not after exposure to the deadly Springsteen Virus, anyway) and I guess violence is a handy substitute. Tsk tsk tsk . . . It's just too damn bad this guy couldn't con his mom and dad into sending him to film school cause at least he had the Scorseseosity to make a videotape of himself reenacting Brando's "Coulda beena contenda" monolgue from "On Da Waddafront" and braggin' that he had raised enough a ruckus to keep the news media busy for a week. Nice try, Sparky, but then the next day, World Trade Center got knocked down by a coupla airplanes and now who can even remember that guy's name? Sheesh, if something like that had happened a day or two after the Sharon Tate massacre, Charles Manson wouldn't any more of a celebrity than Margaret Cho.

First of all, I don't want to hear anymore of these stories about people on the hijacked planes, inside the World Trade Center, or trapped inside the wreckage using their cell phones to make calls to their loved ones. I mean, Bloody Hell - I was sitting around all by myself worrying about those people for hours and hours and nobody thought to call me up even once! What am I? Chopped liver? Damn!

The TV networks are showing nothing but jet airliners flying into buildings and each one has their own cute little title for the spectacle - On ABC it's "Target America", on CBS it's "Attack On America", CNN has "America Under Attack", Fox has "Terrorism Hits America", and of course on the WB it's "Terror In Da House!"

The public has responded with such interest in the network's All Day-All Night coverage of the terrorist attacks on the World Trade Center and the Pentagon that the networks have cancelled every single one of their prime time series to schedule absolutely nothing but Peter Jennings, Tom Brokaw, and Dan Rather talking about jet airliners crashing into buildings. No more "Will And Grace," no more "Who Wants To Be A Millionaire," no more "Everybody Loves Raymond", nothing but jet airliners crashing into buildings, jet airliners crashing into buildings, jet airliners crashing into buildings! No more sit-coms, no more dramas, no more game shows, all we want are jet airliners crashing into dem buildings! Now, now, now, all you ol' fogies who don't wanna see nothin' but dem sit-coms, dramas, and game shows may get to some more of that corny ass Twentieth Century crap eventually but by then it will probably all be sit-coms about jet airliners crashing into buildings, dramas about jet airliners crashing into buildings, and game shows about jet airliners crashing into buildings. And, anyway, what the hell kind of American are you that you would rather see some dumb ass sit-com or drama or game show instead of jet airliners crashing into buildings? Friggin' Commie bastid! Well, I don't know about you, but speaking as a red blooded American Christian Heterosexual With A Capital H, if I ever see another episode of "Will And Grace" they better at least be covered with dust from the falling rubble of Our Beautiful World Trade Center, The Twin Towers, The Pubescent Olsons Of The Sky! And if Grace is still balling that stupid Woody Harrelson prick I want to see him get hit right on his stoned shaved head by a chunk of concrete the size of Rosie O'Donnell's big depressed ass. Except for that nasty little bitch Karen, she's too fine to be covered with dust. If she gets covered with dust I wanna see a big nasty black lesbian fire fighter Amazon chick squirt her all over with a firehose - In slow motion while they play Roxy Music's "Love Is A Drug" on the soundtrack. Because America has changed.

Will the rednecks kick my ass of I dress up like Osama bin Laden this Halloween? Cause I think it would be really funny if I dressed up like Osama bin Laden this Halloween, don't you? Now, you better not be sayin' "No, it won't be funny" and then let me catch you galavantin' around town decked out in your bin Laden fineness. Boy, I will kick your ass before the rednecks get you! Oooooh! I know what I'll do! (Saleeby stands up, puts finger in air) I'll dress up like beloved Confederate General Stonewall Jackson underneath my Osama bin Laden costume so if the rednecks waylay me with evil intent I'll bewitch 'em into believing that I am dressed up as Ol' Stonewall on his way to a Klan rally! Hoo hii! High Fives All Around! (Saleeby sits down, puts finger in nose.)

Ah, what a tangled web we weave when we practice to believe.

 

 

John Saleeby wrote for The National Lampoon while he was in high school, was a stand up comic in New York, and has contributed to the net humor zines Schmuck.com, Campaign Central, and the legendary American Jerk. He's on medication now so he's probably a little nicer now than he was when you met him earlier. Email - jacksaleeby1@hotmail.com