A plea for help

 

IF from the editorI don’t usually ask for help, but this is different.

I have made a lot of enemies, and some of them are determined to destroy me.

My truth-telling has often made me a target of hatred and vitriol, but I’m a big boy and I’m used to the usual rough and tumble of the blogosphere.

But in recent months the attacks against me have increased in scale, becoming more sophisticated and better organised. It’s a plot, and the plotters have a very clear objective. They want rid of me. They want me out of the way. Permanently. With me out of the way, there won’t be anyone to stop them.

I’m not entirely sure what they have planned, but I know it involves one of their powerful intergalactic starships. I also know that their plans involve a device that resembles a hot tub, the purpose of which I’m not 100% sure. I know this because of a series of leaked emails sent to my tipline by one of my dedicated readers.

Yes, I know an awful lot about the things my enemies have planned, even if I don’t yet have the complete picture (keep those tips coming in, readers!). I also know a few things they never thought I would find out.  I never imagined that my enemies on Jupiter would still be using old-fashioned email, or that these so-called intelligent aliens would be so careless about internet security. Thanks to their almost non-existent firewalls I now have thousands of emails from a certain Jovian senator’s computer detailing many of their plans against me.

Incidentally, these emails also include some quite revealing and intimate correspondences between the Jovian senator in question and a person who most certainly is not one of his many wives or husbands. Imagine how surprised that filthy little rooter would be if some of those steamy messages were to show up on a certain blogsite. Wouldn’t that be distressing? Ah, but that’s for another day. . .

Their schemes against me appear to include a sophisticated plan to use massive shields to block out the sun. What they don’t realise is that I haven’t set foot outside my house for six weeks. Go ahead and take the sun away, you despicable alien scum. See if I care! The only light I need is the warm glow of my computer screen.

But it’s worse than that. Their ultimate plan is to take me away from Earth. Yes, loyal readers, they plan to abduct me. To fly me away in one of their many ships, to do God knows what to me. My guess is that they plan to conduct a series of genetic experiments on me in order to determine just what makes me tick. Look at the damage I have wrought upon my enemies on the New Zealand political scene, so imagine the destruction they could inflict if they were able to replicate ten of me. They would be masters of the entire universe.

I know a lot about what they are planning, but they will still be hard to stop. Readers, this is where you come in. You can help me stop them in their tracks.

I don’t usually like to put out the begging bowl, but this is different. This is important.  They are coming for us, and I’m the first one in their way. Once I have been conveniently disposed of it will be your turn. Once I’m gone there will be nothing to prevent them taking your motor vehicles, your children’s toys, and even your collection of Celine Dion CDs. You may think my abduction at the hands of these Jovian beasts won’t make much difference to your life, but are you really prepared to go on living without ever again hearing Celine’s soaring and uplifting voice?  I don’t often get overwhelmed with emotion, readers, but My Heart Will Go On makes me cry every single fucking time!

So I need your help. These alien arseholes can be stopped, but it will take money. Lots of money. Fucking loads of the stuff. More money than you can believe. Literally wheelbarrows full of the stuff. And in quantities you can only imagine in your wildest dreams ever having.

Your money is going to help us defeat these scumbags. Because if there’s one thing those nasty little alien creeps hate it’s aluminium. They can’t stand the stuff. It makes them vomit just to look at it, and if they touch it their eyes explode and their nipples burn away. So we’re going to use the money to buy foil. Lots of it!

I have managed to clad some of the roof of my house with aluminium foil, but funds are tight, and it has proven difficult to get large quantities of foil at a reasonable price. I still have the garden, the back lawn, and the swingball set to cover up, and then I want to move to the interior of the house—just in case they find a way through the roof or past the swingball set.

If you cherish your freedom, then you simply must donate. Anything will do. $1000, $2000, or even $50,000. Whatever you can afford, but please don’t waste your time with pissy little offerings like $100 or $200. Don’t insult me.

If you don’t give generously then you are dooming your family, indeed our entire civilisation, to slavery. I’m the only one who can stop them, which is why I’m the one being targeted by these alien monsters and not you. You’re too piss-weak for them to bother with.

If you don’t give me money it will make you a bad person. Quite possibly an evil person. It will make you one of them. And if you’re one of them, then you can sure as hell expect to hear from me. It’s no more Mr Nice Guy from me. I always knew you would turn. You’re as bad as all the others. You are all against me! Leave me alone! You people won’t be happy until I’ve done a “Major Tom,” but guess what? I’m not going to step through the door. I’m staying put! I will never be defeated, so give me your money! Please?

PLEASE! I’M BEGGING YOU! THEY’RE COMING, AND I NEED MORE FOIL!

Advertisements

One thought on “A plea for help

  1. Pingback: ImperatorFish: A plea for help « The Standard The Standard

Comments are closed.