Wednesday, April 19, 2006

If I Told You, I'd Have to Kill You

You've probably heard some twit say, If I told you, I'd have to kill you. But sometimes you just have to take this kind of advice seriously. Like when I tell you I'm writing this from an undisclosed location somewhere between the southern tip of Africa and the northern tip of the Sudan -- and like when I say if I told you where I am exactly at this moment, well you know the rest!

So I've had to go underground since the exploding Easter bunny saga. It's not the first time and it won't be the last. No ways I'm ever going to do time in a prison where I can be sodomised by blacks for blowing up some demonic bunnies. I'd rather eat my own offspring . . . uncooked!

But I can let a few things slip about my underground survival tactics . . .

I escaped from my impenetrable home fortress by means of an underground tunnel -- the Sudanese indentured servants know nothing of this tunnel, thank God. So you see, it's literally and figuratively an underground thing. I then hotwire a vehicle in the neighbourhood, which I use to drive to a farm outside the city. This farmer is a deaf mute, so there is no way he can be tortured into giving me away. But he has a long and eventful history in mercenary activities, so he's a professional. It would not be beyond him to ingest cyanide if the black communists or homo liberals tried to get any information out of him that could incriminate me. He's also a pilot.

So that's how I get out the country. My movements beyond the borders of our country are no one's business. Suffice to say that I am well protected -- and they're not paintballs. Not even frozen ones.

You'll be hearing from me again. Tell anyone, I mean anyone, what you have just read, and something more terrible than the divine hatred for gays, pagans, lesbos and humanist secularist evolutionist pansies will come crashing down on your head when you least suspect it. Be warned. Silence is your friend, so cut your tongue out if you don't trust your blabber mouth.

Fight the good fight, on the ground or underground.

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