Posts Tagged CIA
The President arrived at The East Room at an event honoring the remaining CIA members responsible for helping to illegally arm the Contras in the 1980s with (OMG….you are not going to believe this!!!)…lipstick on his collar.
“I don’t want to get in trouble with Michelle, so I’ll have you know that this isn’t lipstick…it’s blood!!!” quipped the President to raucous applause and laughter from the fawning, ever-diligent press corps.
The President also took the moment to announce that he has personally ordered drone strikes on former members of the band Sepultura. Some ex-members of Sepultura, which means “grave” in some weird foreign language, have been linked to a sinister splinter group that goes by the ominous name “The Cavalera Conspiracy”.
The former lead singer, Max Cavalera, was involved in the 1990s with a project referred to only as “Nailbomb”. A nail bomb is an explosive device often built by terrorists out of ordinary household items. It often contains nails (or other sharp, pointy things) and can explode and cause harm to people who are susceptible to injury from flying shrapnel. They are very, very dangerous, particularly when they kill people. These cheaply built weapons, often referred to as IUDs, have caused death and injury to thousands of people, including Americans.
Max and his brother, a shadowy figure who goes by the name “Igor”, are both wanted in connection for their parts in The Cavalera Conspiracy. “The greatest threat to America, besides Michelle if she finds out about the lipstick, are The Cavalera Brothers,” trying to hold back his trademark grin as throngs of reporters collapsed to the floor and began spasmodic seizures of laughter.
The President assured the audience that no current members of Sepultura would be harmed. “The United States government has an avowed policy of only killing people when they are in the way or within a hundred mile vicinity of evil people. As far as we known, in spite of their current status as Brazilians, the people of Sepultura are 100 percent safe,” said the President in a calm, confident, comforting, assuring, Presidential tone.
Predator drones have become the President’s weapon of choice because of their uncanny ability to allow for maximal destruction with minimal impact on public opinion poll numbers. Americans aren’t in the planes, so unless one of the soldiers operating an aircraft from a hangar in Nevada accidentally chokes on a ham sandwich, they harm only bad people. Even if one goes off course and destroys a questionable military target, like a hospital or school, the President could always buy a new dog and mollify the American public until the next atrocity comes along.
The note under my door said “Meet at 3 AM in the parking garage behind the Waffle House.” I’d received notes like this before and, usually, they either led to great information or some guy in nothing but a trenchcoat asking me if I wanted to hold hands and whisper Carpenters lyrics into each other’s ears. Typically, these messages came from my high level contact in the CIA, a man who will only let me refer to him in public as Deep Thrombosis. He’s worked in The Company for many years and has put me onto some of the bigger stories Tyranny of Tradition has broken. He was the guy who tipped me off to Obama’s drumming on the first Overkill album and Nixon’s plot to assassinate the members of Black Sabbath.
I knew that a night meeting with Deep Thrombosis could be the thing that gets me that Pulitzer Prize I’ve been coveting all these years or even a date with The Great Kat. However, I was not prepared for the monumental significance of what he was about to tell me.
“Tonight, we are going to pull back the curtain,” whispered Deep Thrombosis while his shifty, beady eyes darted from side to side. “The information I’m about to give you could bring down the whole circus. If you print it, be warned, there is a good chance you will end up having a ‘boating accident’ or accidently hanging yourself while trying to install a garage door opener. And for godsakes, if you print this, you need to promise not to mention you got it from a source in the CIA! They’ll be able to track it back to me.”
“I will absolutely not mention how I got this information,” I told my CIA source. “I swear it!”
He proceeded to tell me the most outlandish story I had ever heard. A story of violence, intrigue and a CIA so out of control that it would go so far as to break up one of the great thrash metal groups of our time.
“The Company had heard some rumors that the next Slayer album was going to be all about drone strikes on Al-Queda bases. The thing was going to be called “South of Reason”. Typical longhaired hippie liberal propaganda. We’d have let Limbaugh handle them except they were going to reveal potential bombing coordinates, out some of our higher level agents, and really turn the metalhead public against the whole ‘secret murder of civilians who have had no trial’ thing. We couldn’t let it happen. So we took action.”
“The first part of the plan was to kidnap Kerry King and replace him with an actor who resembled Kerry King. We have a guy who has done some jobs with us in the past who was a dead ringer for King, a sort of grubby, misshapen fellow who slightly resembled a poorly shaven yeti. We scooped up the real Kerry and threw him into Guantanamo and told the guards he was actually Osama Bin Laden’s masseuse and to ‘not torture him’ until he gave us any information on the whereabouts of the secret terrorist training camps in Iceland.”
“The guy we are using as Kerry almost gave the thing away during the first show. He played three or four really great solos, which confused the audience. Luckily, one of our agents got ahold of him and told him to haphazardly move his whammy bar around really fast when it was his turn to solo and no one would know the difference. Things went fine after that.”
“We slipped a mind-altering substance into one of Araya’s drinks and, through the power of suggestion, convinced him to start listening to Asking Alexandria. We figured this would jam up any creativity that was flowing through his head. Then, we gave a copy of the band’s financial information to Lombardo. The rest is history.”
“The thing is, I’ve begun to realize that this sort of thing is dangerous. After all, if the CIA can destroy Slayer or overthrow the government of a foreign country or randomly kill civilians who happened to be in the same vicinity as people we believe to be terrorists without the consent of the American people, then what is the point of even calling our country a democracy.”
“I started thinking of what a soulless, unaccountable beast like the CIA could do if it really put its mind to it. Forcing Exodus to do a ska album? Getting Testament to hire Michael Bolton as their lead singer? Letting Janick Gers write all the songs on the next Maiden record? The possibilities were too horrible to consider.”
“So, I have chosen you to help put a stop to this. Publish this article tomorrow and remind America that in a democracy, the government needs to be accountable to the people or else they have ceased being a democracy. That transparency is the only thing that can keep us from becoming a nation capable of any atrocity in the name of opening new markets and exploiting new sources of human capital. That America should stand for something greater than the principal of bending other, weaker nations to our will. And that Slayer should start writing stuff that sounds more like it did before Divine Intervention, because honestly, the new stuff hasn’t been all that impressive. Except for God Hates Us All. That was pretty cool.”
I heard the sound of a car door slam in the corner of the garage and turned to look at it. When I looked back, Deep Thrombosis was gone.