Sharon Plans to Build Personal Walls Around Palestinians

aking a page from the Bush playbook, Israeli Prime Minister Ariel "The Little Mermaid" Sharon promised unilateral action against Palestine if any more Israeli civilians were victims of terrorism. Among plans proposed by the angry, vodka-swilling P.M., severe financial sanctions, cutting off all contact with the Arab state, and building individual "people-sized" walls around its citizens.

"This is, how you say, horseshit," grunted the frustrated P.M. at a press conference Friday. "For too long Palestinians have turned a blind eye to terrorists and terrorist collaborators, and they must be held responsible for the actions of those who commit these acts. Israelis are a peace-loving people and we’re going to bomb terrorist states into oblivion if that’s what it takes to get peace."

Released to the press at the time were drawings of several plans Sharon had reportedly stayed up all night making in a drunken stupor. When asked if one of the pictures of a monstrous tank rolling over a tiny Palestine was drawn to scale, Sharon retorted, "What do you think?"

In addition to the world’s biggest M-1, other administration plans displayed in bright 64 Crayola colors included stick figures, presumably inhabitants of Palestine, with individual walls around each one. Sharon refused to answer many more questions on the individual plans, and kept nodding off with persistent inquiries. Others in the administration offered to explain proposed ideas as best they could.

According to Homeland Security Advisor Yuri Gatoton, each individual walled cell would contain a hole that attached to a refrigerator, not pictured in the drawings, as well as separate buckets for poop and pee. The design was presented by Sharon as the best way to assure against terrorists connecting with residents of Palestine to form larger terrorist networks. Gatoton also explained some of the other plans Sharon drew.

"That’s a horse, that’s an A-bomb, that’s a man with a football helmet. I imagine the man with the helmet is provided protection when the A-bomb is set off over Palestine. The horse, as you can see, will have to be able to jump clear over the Palestinian borders without setting foot in the actual state—keep in mind these are rough sketches, and hopefully we’ll never need to test these in real life if Palestine cooperates in efforts to stem terrorism."

Nine out of every 10 individuals in the world condemned Sharon’s plans and questioned his stability, even longtime Israel buddy the United States. In a press statement, president Bush stressed Israel should avoid taking unilateral action until all other measures have been explored, and professed "extreme disappointment" Sharon so frequently colored outside the lines in his drawings.

Even the usual critics of the president agreed with his assessment of the Israel situation. Vermont Governor Howard Dean, the leading Democratic candidate for the 2004 presidential nomination, expressed his opposition to Israeli action.

"We all sympathize with Mr. Sharon’s struggles against terrorism, for they are our own. But a country not the United States cannot act on its own authority against another country without providing any sort of proof or going through all options first. Also, Bush is a moron."

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Ned's time on the moon been written about in many the book and popular song, including "Mr. Moonlight" and "Moonchild," but none of them done quite got it right. Nope indeed, all them popular tales go heavy on the heroics and light on them dachshunds. Ned's here once and for never to set them stories right.

True enough, Nedro did travel to them moon in the month of Smogust in 1944.3, climbing up that big green ladder been left there by them homesick astronauts. Ned gone up there for see who left them nightlight on, keepin' Ned up all night with so much glowin' and keepin' the nighttime so bright. Leave it to them governments to flip off the sun switch straight right, but forget and leaving them moonlight on all night like we was childrens a-scairt of the dark. So Ned done climbed right up to do hisself a public service.

But what was Ned to find moonward but Ugly McUgly, big fella lived up to his name all too well, tossin' and turnin' up there in his lumpy moon bed and feelin' sicker than a jellyfish in a peanut butter factory. Ned marched right up and said "Hullo, Ugly!" without knowin' that be his right Christian name. Lucky for Neddums it was to be. McUgly took a powerful liking to Nedmiller right from the start, on account of Ned knowin' his name and greetin' him so polite and so.

Ugly McUgly told Ned about buildin' them moon outta space dandruff as his own personals apartment, and a-flyin' it over the earth to keep an eye on Africa, which bores a sure-fire resemblance to his ol' first wife, who done left him for Asia minor. Back then, 'course, them moons was lush with pink forests and rivers of diet cola 'nuff to make a tooth ache all by itself on a dinner plate. Right nice place to live. But McUgly done got so obsessed with tryin' to piss on Poland from up on that there moon, whole place done gone straight to gray-tone hell. Dust bunnies takin' over and a-nibblin' on the furniture, cobweb clouds gummin' up them skies, and whole place gone dusty like the crack of a Texas baby's behind. McUgly himself catches them dust fever, and spend his days an' nights tossin' and a-turnin' in his big-ole lumpy moon bed.

Ned try all sorta remedy to make McUgly well agains, includin' wrappin' up a whole herd of them moon gazelles in a pita sandwich topped with sauce from the moon's only tartar. No dice, Jerry Rice. Nedful also done try straining them whole moons through a funnel and make a smoothie from moon juice, but that shake been too thick to draw even through special .50 caliber straws, no lie. Even Moon Asprin, dug from them Asprin Valley up there on the moon's dark side fulla fields of pills, even that genius cracker of an idea done no good for McUgly and his powerful ill funk.

Nedly gotta go for plan B, and so him done yank out the cord reachin' from the back of them moons all them ways acrosst over to the only power socket in them sky, and right quick them whole shebang goes darker than a politician's soul like lickety splat. Ugly McUgly not too keen on plan B and Ned hasta make haste down the moon ladder like he was late to get his teeth frosted. Hand over foot over head under ankle, Ned raced down that ladder like falling but with more grabbin' and scramblin'. Ugly McUgly been right on the heels of Ned, on account of him trippin' over the moon in the dark and fallin' off like a cripple in a wheelchair spillin' off a horse.

Ned beat McUgly to the ground by just a nibble of a second, but Ugly beat Ned to the underground by a lot. Not many a mans done dug his own grave, let alone with his own misfortunate face, but Ugly McUgly done broke offa hunk of that honor all for hisself.

And wouldn't you know what? Them government boohobs done got right back up and plugged that moons back in them very next night. So much for shuteye, says Ned. And them's the story of how come Ned sleeps in them diving suit at nighttimes, childrens.

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So it turns out my sister's gay. Quite a big bomb-dropping, for a regular family, I guess. If you ask me it's just a ninth-inning attempt to reinvent herself like a third-rate Madonna, or a 1970s David Bowie. Anything to liven up her boring life and make herself more noticeable in a family spilling over the brim with shwat-a-veev—whatever it is the French call it.

Of course, she has her own story: That she's always been gay, that ugly dude she went to the prom with was actually a lesbian, and she told me this all before. I suppose it's possible I'd forget it, if I was watching TV or thinking about something else. When I get hungry I can't concentrate on nothing. But I still say she's making up this whole life as being gay just to be more interesting—backstory, that's the acting term we use.

She introduced me to her checkmate, or whatever the cool new term for it is, and we didn't get along very well. I didn't remember her name at all and kept calling her "Marcy," like that chick in the Peanuts cartoon. Like I'm the one who cut her hair into a bob and made her wear glasses. I tried to get along with her for my sister's sake, I really did, but the bitch was saying all kinds of stuff to bait me. Like she had never seen my show before and that it must have been tough being a child actress. I told her it must have been tough being a lesbian for her, and she took it like I was serious, instead of implying it was hard for her to find women to date her.

I'm taking all of this pretty cool, really. She invited me to her office for lunch and promised she wouldn't get mad if I made paperclip slingshots, so it was off to as good a start as we get. Then instead of a good old fashioned paperclip war I get this Very Special Episode of Ellen dropped on me, which I'm fine with, only to have her tell me my parents don't know and I can't tell them. She said they're so closed-minded and everything, but I would understand 'cause I'm more worldly. I almost knocked her out but her butch friend wrestled me to the floor. It may be true I've packed the pounds on my thighs a bit in the last few months, no reason to call me out on it, and I definitely don't see how it helps me be more understanding of lesbos.

In addition to keeping her secret that she's a sci-fi fan (I'm pretty sure Marcy was that dude dressed as the centaur at the convention, upon thinking about it) now I have to not tell everybody she's lesbo. I wouldn't mind keeping the lesbian secret, actually, if she'd just let me tell the sci-fi one. But no, she says mom and dad won't understand. I asked if she tried to talk to Toot but she said he only wants to talk about the Leader of Glorious Light, the one true prophet. Which leaves me alone to carry the new family secret.

The last thing I want to do, of course, is be the only secret-holder, 'cause then when it comes out to everyone they know it was me who let it slip. It's better when almost everyone knows because then they can't trace it back to me. So I told her mom and dad were down with lesbians, dad especially—they star in over half the tapes in his video collection. That only got macho Marcy to wrestle me to the floor again then, and don't tell anybody, but I'm afraid I'm starting to like it.

She gets all sobby on me then (sis, not Marcy, though Marcy did offer me a cigarette) and tells me I'm the only one left in the family she has any relationship with. I thought she was getting weird, but she meant "relationship" in the broad sense of the word. Or the sisterly, non-broad-on-broad sense. And she gives me a big hug and says she can trust me with her secret.

And I suppose she can. I mean, besides writing columns about it at the commune, but that's practically like keeping a secret. So we had a little bit of coffee, talked about my career, her career, the new gym her and Marcy are opening, and then I left without even getting any paperclips and rubberbands. But I did manage to get wrestled to the floor once more before I left.

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