Seven Oaks Magazine.

There’s been a lot of hand wringing in the days since November 2nd saw the validation of the madness of King George by the grace of a majority of American voters. Some chain e-mails and articles that I’ve read have had a false ring of confidence and stoic dedication, urging readers to take hope and keep up the fight. Others merely verbalize a maudlin, weepy malaise that comes from realizing that the most violent and dangerous men in the world find their constituency in caves – and it’s not al-Qaeda.

All I learned, definitively, from November 2nd is that the two things that scare Americans more than anything else are Arabs and homos. Dirty bombs and bum-sex. Al’s “jazeera.” Those voters who came out in record numbers to make sure that no fairy would ever marry their son or anybody else’s also gave big shots out to Baby Doc Bush, with the overwhelming and rapturous Evangelical vote suspected of having put the little big man over the top for a second shot at Armageddon. Such a potent, fearsome brew arises from the admixture of gays and Arabs, in fact, that David Frum – erstwhile Dick Ward to Richard Perle’s Bruce Wayne – saw fit to speculate as to whether Arafat’s mystery illness was HIV/AIDS contracted from illicit homosexual activity with one of his bodyguards.

All this points to one conclusion: that if you really want to drive terror into the hearts of the Empire-builders and their proto-fascist hoi polloi, there’s no use knocking down buildings, thereby killings innocents and fattening Toby Keith’s lyric sheets. Forget the axis of Evil; we don’t need armies of the night – we need armies of the nightlife. I propose that – using up-to-the-minute scientific advances in the fields of stem cell research and all-male fellatio – we develop an army of Arab Twinks to strike the beast: al-Queerda. Hey America – Boo!

We’ll give our ultimate soldiers names like “Sodomy Hussein,” and “Fab al-Us”. They’ll operate out of Fagllujah, and worship at the Dome of the Rock-hard Abs. They’ll wear sequined keffiyas and hurl Faberge eggs at Israeli tanks. Even the Hidden Imam will want to be seen in a Von Dutch hat and white belt.

Our guys will release their own threatening videos, kissing Debra Messing on both cheeks, and declaring that the only thing that they miss about the Twin Towers is the way that their solid, rigid frames thrust up into the Manhattan skyline, penetrating the clouds. They’ll chatter on about wanting to hit Florida again and again, paying suspiciously little attention to the non-phallic states.

Once the state of Florida and the World Trade Center have been declared faggotty (or “Code Fuscia”), the rednecks will flee the former and stop publicly mourning the latter. “Me? Angry about 9/11? I never even looked at another guy.” Florida’s wealth of Electoral College votes will thus be opened up to the Paisley Mafia in Miami’s nightclubs, and the rich-boy-turned-Alpha-Male president won’t be able to mine Ground Zero for votes, either.

Though the use of terrorism and indiscriminate attacks is not in any way valid or understandable, the desire of the world’s people to shake our American cousins out of their unfeeling, imperial slumber is. But our Yanqui friends have shown us since the day the Mayflower docked that they’re only afraid of things with which they’re unfamiliar – so how are you going to shake them up with violence? They know violence. If Violence was a person, he’d be Best Man in most of their Penis-Vagina Marriages (PVM). You can’t use violence to terrorize a nation whose national anthem is about “rockets” and “bombs”; whose favourite sport is football; whose police are trained to beat the living hell out of entire communities of millions.

Better to terrorize them with a truly frightening and unfamiliar scene: two women sharing a loving kiss; two men raising a child and teaching her to read; teenagers not committing suicide because they can’t reconcile their natural urges with the stifling and suffocating cultural straightjacket in which they, their families and their communities live. Now that is some scary stuff.