Thursday, December 14, 2017

The Saga of Moy Roore

The Saga of Moy Roore, 
With Borrowings from the Book of Job 

By David Hartley Mark 

There was a man who dwelt in the land of Alabuz, and he was upright in his own eyes, save for a touch of pederasty, which he swore had never happened, anyway. And lo, he lookt out upon the mighty Land of America, and it vexed him much: for he beheld but sin, rapaciousness, and racism, a great deal of which was caused by him, but the causes of which he did not notice. 

And Moy put on the full armour of his God, which was essentially a larger vision of himself, and he girded himself with self-righteousness, and took up the sword of cruel vengeance upon both sin and sinners, the latter of which consisted mainly of folks who disagreed with him. And he gathered about himself all of his followers, those who feared the same imaginary demons which beset him. And Moy began to scream, and to fulminate, and to swear before the Creator that, unless he went to Congress, Congress would continue to do and perform things with which he disagreed. How he was to cleanse Congress from inside Congress he did not bother to explain, since he would then be no longer part of the solution, but of the problem. 

And Moy begged the Divine to send him justification in his struggles and crusade. And he announced that he did not hate minorities, although this was false. And his cries reached unto the welkin. 

That particular celestial day, the Lord God was having a meeting with Satan,  and He queried of the Adversary: 

"Just who is this guy Roore who persists in taking My Name in vain, and making trouble generally?" 

And Satan replied, "Beats me. Clearly not a Deist, as were the Founders." 

"What do you propose we do about him?" Asked God. 

"Leave him to me," replied Satan, "I will afflict him with various beliefs, and he will end up losing the election to a Democrat, the like of which has not been felt in Alabuz since the late 1970s." 

"Do so," said the Creator, "but spare his life, since about half of the state supports him, and I spend a great deal of My time trying to teach humanity a lesson." 

"What lesson is that?" Asked the Adversary. 

"Love ye one another, as I have loved you," smiled God. 

"That is more than somewhat doubtful for this guy," said Satan, "but hey, You're the Boss. Wish me luck." 

And Satan afflicted Moy Roore with spiritual blindness, and certainty-born-of-error, yet more racism, and a decided lack of knowledge regarding American History. This caused him to state loudly and in public that slavery had been good, that antebellum America had been Eden, and that all of Mankind's woes were caused by assaulted women coming forward and confessing their physical violations by men in power. 

"I can prove that from the Bible," said Moy Roore to Satan, who by day had disguised himself as a campaign manager, though the MAGA cap fit badly against his horns. 

"How so?" Asked Satan, who had moved into the Roores' front-hall coat closet, from which he could better emerge to whisper in their ears whilst they slept. 

"Why, Eve in the Garden of Eden," quoth Moy. 

"That is a long shot," said the Adversary, "since, even if you concede that I myself was in the Garden, I never laid a claw on her. Sorry, Moy. And you know that I can quote Scripture to my purpose." 

"Humph," said Moy, and he fell back upon the common politician's trick when declaiming a lie, which is to shout it loudly and often to people ignorant of the subject you are discussing. After, you wait for applause, which is both loud and long. 

At last, even Satan tired of Moy's company, for the man was clearly a blowhard and ignoramus, so he called in three Companions for Moy: Flinch D'Connell, Bawl Fryan, and Ton Old Dump. 

And Moy was gladdened to see them, and presented them, not with the Southern Hospitality for which his state is famous, but rather with outcries and criticisms. 

To the former two leaders, Moy said, "You have given over our Country and Party to sinners and lechers!" 

"Um, excuse us," interrupted D'Connell, "but aren't you the lecher?" 

"That is irrelevant," said Moy, "because you have not enforced the laws of my god in the Congress, as is your patriotic duty!" 

"Just wait for the Tax Bill to go through," said Fryan, "and you'll see some enforcement. We and the rich are going to make out like flies on excreta. 

"You ought to have put the full faith and credit of the US behind my campaign," said Moy, "and I would have helped you carry the congressional majority!" 

"Believe me," said Dump, shaking his belly, "it's all for the best. We will end the year with one legislative victory, and after that, will come my deluge of more oppressive American laws!" 

"What about me?" Asked Moy. 

"We need you down here," said Dump, "to reach out to the loonies and bible-thumpers, not to mention the Alt-Right. You're just perfect for them. I do the same, only worldwide." 

And Moy was appeased.