The Salty Scum

There is a sham, a charlatan among us! This, my friends, I will not stand for, and so I sit  now while I enumerate the various and costly taxes which such a presence imposes upon us good, hardworking folk and up-standers (or up-sitters in some cases).

You fecal fraud, sitting in your ivory tower of filth and dismembered copies of Orwell's "1984" - smiling down with all the charm of a fairly bad-tempered swine that had recently taken to eating old boiled eggs! You have given nothing but grief to those around you - the good-natured, hygienic swine of my flock. Sneering, you spit upon their pristine asses and comment on the utter depravity they live in! Such talk is best left to the cows.

Your mighty declarations and incantations insight revulsion, yet an odd, awful amazement we cannot help but have given the sheer audacity of your position! Surely, we might think, one who acts so brutishly with no good cause or justification has just, in the very act, justified oneself as worthy of the self-bequeathed position! The position on the tower.

Aye, stay there, we say! Look down with scorn and contempt; contenting yourself with the drivel of your mind and the dribbles from your nose. All the easier, I say, for us to topple your fat, floppy rolls to the ground with an earth-shattering thud. And you, defying the very laws of nature, or perhaps simply filled with only your own inflated sense of self-worth, will bound into the sky - a rocket! We now find our awe had been placed rightly, for only you, you gluttonous, gaudy Gregorian, could so beautifully and so perfectly burn into dust and gas as you smashed ass-first into the atmosphere.

So here's to you - salty scum of the earth. For your inevitable destruction has made life just that much more worth living.