Friday, November 19, 2010

Please Elect Me Leader of this Torch-Carrying Mob


My name is George Stevens, and I'd like your support.

It's been a long journey since we picked up ordinary farm implements, lit our torches, and converged on the old Mansfield place just outside of town to kill everyone inside and end the unholy experiments that befouled nature itself. Some say our best days are behind us. Some say that this torch-wielding mob should get used to being a relic. Maybe, the doubters suggest, we should even disband.

I reject that. I am convinced that with the right leadership, our future is bright indeed. As bright as, well, as a mob of people carrying torches and bent on some kind of violent, vigilante action. There are always going to be dark times. Sometimes a creature made of patchwork chunks of dead flesh will drop boiling oil on us from the ramparts of his castle, and we'll hear the terrified shrieks of our townsfolk. There will be challenges ahead. But we're not just carrying torches, and pitchforks, and a crucifix rubbed in garlic... we're carrying hope. The hope that there will always be a life for our children in the years to come.

My opponent is a good man. He is dedicated to this mob and its torch-carrying. But I think he lacks experience and vision. I honor his record of service. But he's not the person who should be picking up a pitchfork and impaling a hunchback guarding the door to a dank crypt. He doesn't have the judgement or good old-fashioned common sense needed for the times ahead.

With your help I know there will always be rickety bridges to cross and scientists to defenestrate. We can accomplish great things... together.

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