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Get
off my Lawn!!
by Geezer
I’ve been negotiating with Bartcop to do some writing here. Many
years ago I frequently
visited these pages with my writings and Bartian conversations. I
wrote, then, under a different name.
Actually I wrote under my own name. I voiced strong opinions
early in the history of the internet in
an effort to inspire others to use their voices. Since that time
the internet has seemed to get along fine
without me, so I left my mother’s basement and got a job.
However, Bush II has sent me back
into unemployment, and here we are.
Let these writings serve as my own small tribute to Bart. While I
don’t share Bart’s fascination with
Shirley (not even Bart’s taste in music), Bartcop is a completely
unique address on the internet.
He provides political discussion and humor from a real Earth
perspective. And Bartcop will often
challenge even those with whom he agrees. He doesn’t tell you
what to think, he simply makes you think.
Let’s face it, if God gave us a brain, then Bartcop, in spite of his
professed atheism, does God’s work.
It is at this point that I think I need to clear the air, and
apologize, for the very public disagreement
between me and Bartcop that led to my abandonment of these pages.
I believe the threads of the argument
have been deleted from the Bartcop Archives. It is not my intent
to reopen the issue, but to finally close it.
Many years ago, a monkey mail
submission challenged Bart to admit that he and his readers were part
of
the vast left wing conspiracy, and that we were all highly paid
propagandists intent on destroying America.
I felt that Bartcop made a silly mistake by attempting to deny
this. In my own mind, I felt it was time for
the truth to come out.
I revealed that Bartcop Manor was really more like the Bartcop Estate
and Compound. Communist Nazi
Muslim Atheists (the CNMA) came to Bartcop Manor from all over the
world for what served, at the time,
as the bi-monthly conspiracy meetings. We would spend three days
at these meetings (in the Nuremburg
Rally Hall) discussing how to best turn America’s children gay, how to
get every woman in America to
terminate at least one pregnancy, how to overthrow American and Saudi
Arabian type Democracies,
and how to get lazy people to freeload on the government. We all
know the necessity of these things
in order to kill Jesus and dominate the world. Come the weekend,
we’d all make full use of the resort,
sunning at the pool, trying our skill at the Reagan Dunk, field
stripping guns and then leaving them to
rust in the woods.
When Bart expressed his anger at my having revealed that “Monkeys” were
actually God Fearing,
flag waiving Americans seeking to save Capitalism for our children, I
finally snapped. But what really
flooded to the surface was my anger over how I’d been treated during
the weekends at the estate.
For ten straight weekends I had been given the Stalin-Goering Room that
has its balcony almost directly
over the popular Reagan Dunk. The Reagan Dunk, for those who’ve
never had the pleasure, is just like
those dunks at carnivals. You pitch a baseball and try to hit the
target on the lever. If you hit the target,
the stool collapses from under the Reagan look-a-like, and he falls
into a barrel of water (but for extra
excitement there is a sign on the barrel that says, “Acid”). The
sounds of the baseballs careening off
of the metal target, and the splashes of the Reagan look-a-like, always
followed by riotous laughter,
can keep you up all night.
I irritably brought this up during a banquet in the Il (i.e., Kim Jong)
Dinning Hall. Further, I went on
to note that the most popular room, the Ayatollah O’Hair Room, was
ALWAYS offered to Tally Briggs.
I also reported that I knew why! The Ayatollah O’Hair Room has
its balcony directly over the
Ahmadinejad Gore Pool. Tally loved to sunbathe in the nude on
that balcony, in full view of
Bartcop’s poolside umbrella!
I made the mistake of announcing this within earshot of Mrs.
Bartcop. Then it was complicated
further when either O. J. Simpson or bin Laden (I know it was someone
at the Honored Guest Table)
yelled, “Shit! I’d rather have ONE Tally than SEVENTY-SIX F-ING
VIRGINS!”
That upset Tally, and the food
fight was on.
I had heard later that the CNMA threatened to pull Bartcop’s
franchise. So, I need to apologize to
all offended by that ugliness, but especially to Mr. and Mrs. Bartcop
and to Tally. I hope you will forgive me.
Within these writings (exclusive to Bartcop), I hope you will find all
of the things that cause you to
return to Bartcop day after day. We will enjoy humor, wisdom,
anger, pathos, and often sarcasm.
Perhaps we’ll make a little Monkey Stew, or at least make a few Monkeys
stew.