posted on Jul, 12 2006 @ 11:02 PM
Hope this turns out alright, did it pretty quickly, and have to do some real work! Hope someone enjoys it!
“Simon, it’s Springer, can you hear me?”
“Yes Springer, loud and clear. This voice over IP thingy is quite good, isn’t it?”
“Yep, though NSA is probably routing us through Room 241 as we speak.”
“Damn their freedom suppressing eyes. One day, one perfect day, the world will know what freedom truly is. Well, until then, let’s talk about the
new ATS colours.”
“Shouldn’t we wait for Nigel?”
“Nigel?”
“You know, Skeptic?”
“Oh, god, do we have to? You know he called me anti-american the other day? Of course I’m bloody anti-american, I’m British. The guy is
more paranoid than a gold fish at a cat convention.”
“Yeah, I hear that he even refuses to travel with people who indicate to the right when driving these days. Whoa boy, what a total…”
“I heard that. Neo-con.”
“Hey, SO, what’s doing big man?”
“Is that some sort of reference to big man Bush? Or are you suggesting my thighs look big in these leotards?”
“No, I was just…Leotards?”
“I’m working out. Paranoia doesn’t keep the weight off you know.”
“Uh huh. Gotcha. Anyway, down to business. First up. Politics at ATS is deader than Al Zaqarwi after a US air strike…”
“*cough* cover-up *cough*”
“Yes, thank-you SO, the question is, how do we spark up interest in PTS?”
[Silence]
“What about Majic?”
“What, the smarmy mod who always seems to be right about everything?”
“Yep, that’s the one. He’s really starting to grate on me. Why don’t we promote him, and let him run it? Frame it as the next big thing on
ATS?”
[Much laughter]
“And we can banish anyone we don’t like to PTS. Kinda like Guantanamo Bay for ATS members. But less fun.”
“Gold Simon. Pure Gold.”
“Right, now the result of the 9/11 poll…”
“You both realise it should be the 11/9 poll, don’t you? Americans…”
“Yes, thank-you again Simon for that injection of British bloody-mindedness. Next time you win the war of independence, we can discuss date
formats.”
“What makes you think they didn’t win the first time?”
“Skeptic, seriously. Does everything have to be a conspiracy?”
“Well, Springer, if that is your real name, why are you trying to subvert my belief systems? Or are you a COINTELPRO agent? It would make
sense considering your neo-con, Bush loving leanings.”
“I’m not a COINTELPRO agent!”
“I did a survey. Turns out 87% of ATS members think you are.”
“87% of ATS members struggle to identify day from night! I mean, if we three are representative of ATS members, then of course they are going to say
that!”
“Hmm, classic psyops throwback. Agree with the contention, subvert, repeat.”
“That doesn’t even mean anything! All right, how do you want me to prove that I’m not part of some Government conspiracy against you?”
“Proof, like air, is invisible to the naked eye, but feeds the flames of discontent. It makes the wind that blows through the woodwind instruments
in the b-flat notes of symphonic conspiracy echo through the silent halls of empty thought. Can you hear it Springer? Can you?”
“Ummm, sorry, Simon here. That may be my IPOD. My hearing isn’t what it used to be, and I had to turn it up a little. Anyway, I don’t think
Springer is a Government plant, for the simple reason that I am.”
“Huh?”
“Oh come on! A British guy running a conspiracy website that focuses almost exclusively on US conspiracies. The instruments were playing Nigel, you
just didn’t realise who was conducting.”
“No!”
“Yes! Did you think good old Blighty would just sit back and take the beating of 1783? No, we retreated and licked our wounds, and our time is now!
No more dates in back to front format, no longer will Defence be spelt Defense, sidewalks will be footpaths, buoy and aluminium will be pronounced
correctly, and American Idol will be banished to the hell-hole from whence it came. Cower before your new Uber-Lord, Simon the Gray!”
“Mom, Simon’s threatening to invade America again!”
“Oh, Nigel. Can’t you boys play nice? At the age of 16, you should all be able to at least show some basic respect to each other's cultures. Now
switch those computers off. You’ve been on them far too long already.”
“We spell it Mum in the UK…”