Emperor Nero wooed his Mistress in a lush oasis miles from dunes and sand, at a camp named after the Hebrew royal David. In Armenian, Kurdish, Russian, Sanskrit, Gurmukhi, Hindi, and Urdu, Jews are still called by their original name of Hebrew.
The Mistress opinioned that war was a last resort and even then only as a defence, but Emperor Nero was a determined charmer and seducer. He charmed, and the Mistress was duly seduced and gave an oath to lead the verbal charge laced in guile and deceit. Thus began a new world order: an order based on corruption, misinformation, falsification, sexing up of documents, and the feathering of one’s own pockets as well as of those of one’s generals and henchmen.
The Mistress, head of a clan-nation island off the shore of a mainland, spared no one upon return from Oasis David, four days’ sailing away, and galvanized the neuro-idiots with an emotionally cooked oral schedule reinventing Sodium Hazelbean, formerly an allay, as paradigmatic of an aggressive Lady-Boy prostitute who steals gentlemen’s wallets without providing much sought after relief in return. “Oh, the shameless thief” shouted the neuro-idiots in unison in tandem with the Gentlemen and Gentlewomen Dacoits ensconced in plush, leather green benches as the elected nose in trough representatives in the Home of Elected Representatives of the neuro-idiots and the rest of the islands asses.
To make the case righteous and honorable, an eminent expert Doctor who happened to have a PhD in an appropriate ology, was paid to waffle a document supporting Lady-Boy Sodium’s illegal procurement of weapons from a weapons wholesaler other than Emperor Nero. “What!” shouted the neuro-idiots, “what!” (they have a habit of repeating ‘what’) “another weapons wholesaler and not Emperor Nero…well, this simply will not do” and so documents were duly presented to the Home of Elected Representatives.
Flies, there is always one isn’t there, and this fly had an untimely rendezvous with its fatal enemy, ointment, was that the Doctor turned out to be a tad too honest. Must have been a signed-up practicing member at the altar of the church Atheist. Let’s face it, no self-respecting monkey wrench or upwardly mobile career ‘servant’ of a recognised religious fraternity would have the testicles to speak out…but our honest PhD certainly did.
His objection? The document carrying his name, as presented to the Home of the Elected Representatives, had zero content similar to the document he had delivered to the oily autocrat. In an attempt to balance the honesty, Doctor Honest secured the ear-hole of Beer Belly journalist, who in turn inked the facts of the difference between the two documents. I always thought sweat, saliva and bodily fluids were the preserve of human-animals having sex, but no, I be wrong here. Apparently, documents can be sexed up too. Well I never.
Unfortunately, in the midst of all of this Doctor Honest went out to clear his head and decided to have a tug of war to test a theory that if he sped away in his car he could pull a tree from its roots. He tied a rope to a tree trunk and sitting in his car he tied the other end to his neck and sped away. Tree trunk was unmoved. Doctor Honest was no more. Naturally, conspiracy theorists abound with various outlandish ideas suggesting he was taking a blood sample with a syringe from an alien encounter. Sad fact is, Doctor Honest is no more, and in some quarters is mourned as a victim of the impending war against Lady-Boy Sodium Hazelbean.
Now, Lady-Boy Sodium Hazelbean, as the Head Honcho of a far away isolated region – his two bit parcel of land was called U-Rack – well, his best aerial attack projectile was papier mache on thin bamboo sticks controlled by string. Apparently, Mistress had nightmares of an imminent attack by a squadron of papier mache on thin bamboo sticks controlled by a length of string. Neuro-idiots foamed at the mouth and demanded protection from the imminent attack. The fact it took ten sailing days from the isolated piece of land U-rack to Mistress’ island was neither here nor there. Neuro-idiots swam in the tidal belief that a squadron of papier mache on thin bamboo sticks controlled by a length of string could attack in forty five minutes from U-Rack.
The drums were struck, and Mistress, looking with dewy-eyed longing into the eyes of Emperor Nero, strode into war. Lady-Boy Sodium Hazelbean stood no chance with the rest of the world ganged up against him, for fear of becoming Emperor Nero and Mistress’ next target.
Papier mache on bamboo sticks controlled by string stood no chance against fire breathing dragons flying through the air in the middle of a moonless night. One day later the attack was over, and the former ally, Lady-Boy Sodium Hazelbean, was removed. The people of the land simply exchanged one brutal dictator with another. Mass killing of its people carried on mercilessly for countless moons, season after season.
In all of this, I find it objectionable that some people, living as free and fearless people on various pieces of land, have come to call Emperor Nero the slang for pubic hair, a four letter word starting with the letter B. I refuse to dishonour a brave honorable leader of free thinkers with such demeaning names. Emperor Nero is Emperor Nero. And as for the Mistress, at times it is most unpleasant to hear the adjective B-Liar shouted out at the Mistress.
We have to realise and accept that the Mistress was internally and deeply touched in a part that an ordinary man cannot touch. Thus, we must respect the coupling of Emperor Nero and the Mistress. Another thing that I find very distasteful is the allegation that the billions amassed by the love birds are ill-gotten gains. Hell no, they worked bloody hard for that cake.
Now, the issue is that there always has to be God in such equations for it to become quadratic, lest they fall into the ignominy of indices, or much worse loll around as algebra.
And as a new inductee into the higher realms I am going to share a secret with you. The God of Emperor Nero and the Mistress is the God named the Devil. And it has to be said, Ali-Looya is not the word that comes to mind when one thinks of God-Devil.
Now, if you profess an attachment to God-Kindness and Fair, then guys, forget material wealth. God-Kindness and Fair governs nature, you know, jungle type of nature.
So now, you decide which God you prefer to pay obeisance to.
…and one day I aim to meet a master who can teach me sardonic wit.