Many things are evil. For instance, let's talk about you, the pea-brained peasant who hopefully will gain an education from reading this fine, pristine publication. You are evil, for you listen to everything the Hidden Agenda tells you. Blaring from the idiot box, their satanic shortwaves permeate your mind like my sixteen-inch phallic piston plows into my comely assistant Melissa. They tell you such strange things like Buffalo is on the upswing, the economy is bad, and that Obama bin Laden is not a noted terrorist. Those of you that actually are literate and read this fine, pristine publication know this to be the gadgets with which the Hidden Agenda attempts to remove your soul from your being. For those that have been educated by our public and parochial school systems, they know not that they are being deceived with the same kind of chicanery that advertising such as the "5-dollar foot long" can fool them with. In this issue, I wish to discuss another such slanderous hallmark of the Hidden Agenda. This is the internet supersite Wikipedia.
Wikipedia alleges itself to be based on any user being able to create new, truthful information about really any subject. You can learn about fried bologna sandwiches, Jeffrey Dahmer, or even about minor league hockey in the nation of El Salvador on this site. Wikipedia, however, suffers from the same brutal, Machiavellian censorship that all things run by evil folks suffer from. Recently, a devoted group of Journal followers attempted to create a variable cornucopia of Wikipedia entries dedicated to this beechwood-aged publication and its staff. Their attempts were thwarted like the time George Schmidt and I tried to organize a full-on 11-on-11 football game in the middle of a Wegmans' supermarket using a pineapple instead of a football and using random store shoppers as our blocking. Much like on that occasion, our fans were told that they could not do such a thing. Why is this anyway? Was Wikipedia, and thus, the Hidden Agenda afraid of some fun and truth much like that Gestapo-like store manager? I decided that I needed to investigate this tomfoolery once and for all, for the National Journal of Truth is the number one publication and the world, and all other rags of lies pale in comparison.
I grabbed my assistant Melissa by the hair and dragged her kicking and screaming out to my immense car port, which is the size of roughly 25 used car lots put together. We hopped in my 1981 Mercury Lynx and headed off on that street of dreams with the kind of festinate fervor you usually find George Schmidt using when he devours an entire Thanksgiving turkey and then pukes it up after. I smoked on a rather lengthy White Owl cigar, its pure flavor of freshness resonating all throughout this cheap, odor-induced trash heap of a land. Melissa voluntarily removed her clothes, for that is what she does best. We knew what we had to do. We had to get right down to Wikipedia and its overly lavish headquarters to put an end to their tomfoolery once and for all. Our destination was Huntsville, Alabama, the home of Wikipedia founder Jimmy Wales. The only other thing Huntsville is noteworthy for is that it was the home of Beautiful Bobby Eaton, one-half of the Midnight Express. I realized that I may have to use Eaton's Alabama Jam maneuever to get my way.
Recently, Wikipedia asked its users, or as I like to call them, its brainwashed drones, for money. The money apparently came pouring in, and Mr. Wales thanked them for their contributions. Since many in our country cannot afford even basic devices due to the Herculean, backbreaking tax structure, the peons just mailed him various household items. I planned to sneak into Wikipedia's headquarters and find as much of this as possible. By headquarters, I am referring to the basement of Wales' mother. You expect this assclown to go outside? Of course not. We drove up the curb and onto the guy's front lawn, since I refuse to use such nonsense as a driveway. I sent my lapdog Melissa up to the front door in order to distract Wales. By distract, she disrobed once again and showed off her immense and ample bosom. He did not like this display very much, so I replaced her and showed him my elongated wang. He was as pleased as punch to see the private area of this journalistic juggernaut, and began to drool with the type of zeal that a homosexual of his ilk would. I was sickened by his attitude and did everything I could to hold in that epic Grand Slam breakfast I had at Denny's over in Paducah that morning.
Melissa snuck around the back and showed her nude figure to the mother, who was happy to see the level of talent in front of her. This was one sick, twisted family. We clobbered them over the head with blackjacks and tied them up while we did our dirty deed. By dirty deed, I mean that we had wild donkey sex on the kitchen table before we headed downstairs to find the loot. We saw all sorts of assorted junk like you would see at the Flea Market. This was mostly because there were quite a few hubcaps down there. I also found all sorts of strange gear colored in red, with logos of Satan and the New Jersey Devils all over them. I walked to a nearby storage closet and found a life-sized blowup doll of Satan. Gadzooks and Ye Gods, I had stumbled upon the house of Satan. Wikipedia was satanic! I had not been this disturbed since the type I saw that three-goblin making sweet love to a ghastly ghoul at that haunted house in Piscataway, New Jersey.
Melissa walked over to another secret room and opened it. Inside was Treasury Secretary Henry Paulson. He was gagged and tied up, like some sort of victim of a strange and twisted dominatrix contest. We untied Paulson, who was gladder than an old man in a strip club to see us. Paulson told us that Wales and his mother had kidnapped him and refused to let him go until the government gave Wikipedia a $250 billion bailout to help defray the costs of his crappy, but evidently expensive service. Paulson said that Wales wanted the money delivered only in the coins that had been minted with my face on them. This new $500 coin was made after I had rescued the Treasury from the demented hands of one Raven Brisk a few short years ago. I knew that this sick, twisted, sack of protoplasm had a crush on me. However, this was too much. I headed back upstairs and proceeded to give Wales the type of savage beating that would make even Rambo blush. This only seemed to turned the silly nanny of a man on, so I just called the local authorities to have him arrested. No one even questioned the tactics that Melissa and I used to get into the house and rescue Paulson with.
The next day, we were given the key to the city and a lifetime supply of condoms. Little does Huntsville know that a lifetime supply of condoms for me would be an infinite amount. Also, regular condoms cannot fit on my mammoth johnson, which Wales' mother referred to as "The Beast from 20,000 Fathoms." It was another victory for the Journal, and Melissa and I celebrated with a cranberry juice kegger.
For the Journal, I am John Agar.