“A
New Jersey man who burned pages from the Quran outside a planned mosque near
ground zero on Saturday has been fired from his job at NJ Transit.”
–
Associated Press, September 15, 2010
Burning books is a step in the right direction, but we’re not doing nearly
enough to combat the evil words and punctuation that are eating away at
society. It’s time we stand up and demand that more books be punished. And we
cannot stop until the job is done and we live in a bookless civilization. We
must all do our part. Every book deserves to be burned or maimed somehow. For
instance:
"The Tale of Peter Rabbit" goes against the very principles of this
great nation. The book should be destroyed by either fire or perhaps wizard
lightning of some sort. If we don’t stand up against thieving rabbits (which
I’m sure represents either anarchy, terrorism, or rabbits who do not respect
agriculture, or all three), then what kind of a
world will our grandchildren inherit? (It's too late
for our children. There are rabbits all over the place.)
We should also obliterate all copies of "The Far Side Gallery 3." Gary Larson’s absurdist wit has no place
in our world, and reading the comic will
lead to Satanism or worse--Double Satanism. But
burning the book isn’t enough. We must carry the book to a volcano, an evil
volcano if we can find one, and toss the book into the liquid fire. Someone
should stand guard for a few years to make sure the book doesn’t crawl out and come back to life and continue its
reign of terror. I’d do it, but I have a thing on Wednesday.
If you own a copy of "Charlotte’s Web," a book that may
very well promote the concept of evolution, hire an astronaut to
tie the book to a Jupiter probe. Jupiter’s atmosphere will make short work of
the book, and we can all rest a little easier once Charlotte and her henchanimals are Jupiter’s problem.
It's all well and good to say that "The
Adventures of Huckleberry Finn"
should be banned from schools, but it's not
nearly enough. All copies should be dipped in liquid nitrogen, and then
shattered with hammer. The fragments should then be fed to a shark, and that
shark should be fed to a much larger shark. The second shark should then be
ridiculed until it takes its own life.
"The Catcher in the Rye" should be fed
to rats because it contains too many commas and not enough exclamation points
or mine cart chases. The same goes for "Little Women". And if "The Poky Little Puppy"
was sat upon by a fat man and then dipped in acid, we wouldn’t need to worry
about innocent literates stumbling upon the shocking book, which I suspect is
an allegory for legalized narcotics and/or prostitution. Poky Little Puppy,
indeed. More like "Poke That Little
Puppy."
The even numbered pages of "A Tale of Two
Cities" should be ripped out and mailed to
my brother Walter in Florida. He’ll then soak these vicious pages in cinnamon
extract, shred the paper, and make a nice potpourri, which he will then sell to
tourists, but only evil tourists. The remaining
odd-numbered pages of the book should be clipped out, and rearranged so that
pages are all mixed up. This will ensure that no one else can be harmed by this
literature. Or should I say, “Litter ature”? No. I was right the first time.
And
lastly, we must rid our world of the dictionary, for it is from this
rudely-titled tome that all the hate and anti-good words are born. I’m asking
the great people of this land to take their family dictionaries and grind them
up with a mortar and pestle (two words that no one will understand once the
heinous dictionaries are dealt with). With the books ground down to a find
powder, add a little milk, and stir until a paste forms. Smear this paste on a
houseplant, and let the houseplant die a slow and painful death. Give the plant
the finger too.
With your help, we can rid our planet of these festering, maniacal blocks of
words. And once they are destroyed, we can move on to annihilating magazines, ingredients labels, and street signs--anything with words.
Including this, which is necessary only to get things going in the right
direction. Thank you.
Dan Bergstein hews his sentences out of the hardest New Hampshire
granite.
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