This is an emergency broadcast of the Jester warning system. This morning at 5:36 AM, without provocation, the Internal Order of Collaborating Organs attacked the large bowel. The liver appears to be the leader of this rebellion. No more bile will be released until demands are met. You must now address the leader as Sir Liver. This just in from Google Central: hence forth all nouns must be sponsored. Your camel must now be addressed as Comcast Camel. Is your penis too short? Eternal assisted living now available through Prudential Term Life Insurance. All chairs will henceforth be named for Coke Products; for example all lounge chairs are now to be referred to as Cherry Coke consuming locations. From Google Central: Walmart has purchased the right to all moods. From this day forward all emotions must carry Walmart credit: "I feel so happy today" (this mood brought to you by Walmart). You are being sued by a cow in New Jersey. Monsanto has purchased the biodiversity of the Amazon Rain Forest in exchange for two billion glass beads. Lawyers for Animal Motors announced this morning that all children born after 2086 must be sponsored. May I introduce our new daughter "Sally Ann Shell Oil Wackowitz." This paragraph brought to you by Canon Printers.

Hi Steven

We got the message. I don't have much time to talk, but yes, the fourth commandment was released this morning. Personally, I think it is too soon. The Baptist Fucking congregations are at war with the First Hindu Fucking church of the True God over the correct interpretation of the word "Shut". The first commandment has gone badly astray. The second commandment has confused everyone. Atheists claim that non belief is not belief by a priori ad nausea. A whole new church evolved composed of people worshiping non-belief. Children refuse to believe that spinach is good for them. The third commandment, so simple to understand, just be good, is also corrupted. A mob attacked the Berlin Childrens Choir because children should be doing good work for the world instead of wasting time singing. Now this:

God hath decreed that hence forward human citizens of planet earth (excluding ants and other superior creatures) shall: "Call Alice."

What do you think the nincompoops are going to do with THIS unfinished directive? Hell, I don't even know what it means.

Talk to you later, Google press is banging on the doors and windows.

Uncle Joe

General "Campbell Soup" Nergal's address to the troops on the eve of the Battle of the Front:

"My boys, today we gather before a great battle; well, not "we", just you. I'll be busy in the bomb shelter studying maps and drinking good Belgium ale. Only my best wishes will be at your side. When the going gets rough, I will be there for you; well not me, but one of my messengers. He will have inspirational words on ancient parchment; stuff like: Give them hell, lads! Tippie Canoe and Tyler too! Kill the bad guys! Tora! Tora! Tora! Get back in there you sissy!

"We have certificates of sacrifice for each of you. These forms serve several useful functions; they are your discharge papers, interment papers, and letter home to your parents saying that they cannot sue us and you made a great sacrifice blah blah.

"Should you fail to make a total sacrifice, we will prepare a gift box for your parents with the parts of you that still function. The Sumerian Military has a fine hospital near your parent's home where you will be entertained by thirteen virgins playing patriotic songs on harmonicas. The food will be prime nano-paste. The movies will be old war flicks or reruns of Matlock. You will be wheeled to Rite Aid once a month for candy bars and fresh bandages. (This paragraph brought to you by Rite Aid).

"Now, my lads, go forth and commit legal murder. The state sanctions you to carefully kill young boys about your age; think of them as bad guys. You may also kill ants of any size, including ant children. If you bag one of the Nanoforce Camels, you will receive a solid gold throne, a herd of used virgins, four billion shekels in silver boxes, and a subscription to Power Rangers Magazine.

"There will be no good poetry written at the front. Good poets will be arrested and shot at dawn. Bad poets are allowed, although they must never read any of their aweful poems. Poets of any kind shall not rise above the rank of dishwasher. I hope that is clear; consequences are brutal.

"Give them hell, lads! You are dismissed. Well, not all of you. I need to see Private Ishmael in my tent, NOW!"

Jester again. Look, comrade, about the war. God wants you dead. Go get your gun and PJs. Farting problem? Liver chip recall number 2 billion and six: Some liver chips were given Hitler personalities. These have caused liver invasion and bile attacks. If you think your liver may be affected.... Signal blocked; message coming in. Welcome to Camry. The temperature inside is 200 degrees. Hypothalamus fire has caused internal charring; all emotions are down. Internal clocks are running independently of each other. Get up! Get up! Time for bed, bro. The Jeffersons have filed a lawsuit against your liver for improper gene transfer and for depositing their retirement funds in a rock on Long Island. Rock on, Long Island. Alert! Alert! Soma water damage detected in the lower intestine; breakfast is leaking onto the liver. Security has detected a penis restraint system wearing a small hat and sweater; please advice. Tonight on channel five hundred thousand we feature old Mash reruns; Hot lips is discovered with steam coming off her butt. What the hell is that smell! Take cover! Nose dive! Nose dive! All internal organs are under blitzkrieg. Heart failing! Kidneys shutting down! Your liver is wearing a false mustache. Over to you, Roger.

"Stand at attention Private Ishmael. I have your file here. It says you have an optometry degree; you're an eye doctor; is that correct?"

"Yes sir, that's correct. I know all about vision."

"It says you write poetry and dress in pink. Is that correct also?"

"Let me explain, sir."

"There are no faggots in my army, soldier."

(Jester alert! Politically incorrect fictional sentence. Five shekels have been deducted from your bank account; rehabilitation class times will be nanoexpressed to your Mann field)

"I'm speechless, sir,"

"You're Goddamn right you're speechless. If I catch you wearing pink I'll send your naked ass to the front lines with a small can of bug spray.... I hear your poetry is awful. Is that correct?"

"Sir, I never wrote that poem. I was framed."

"Oh, I see, you're a victim. None of this is your fault. You didn't spill any gravy? You didn't fall off a breakfast table and break your middle finger? You didn't knock up a secretary? You pay all your bills on time. You don't swear and you would never take the Lord's name in vain. I have the security forces intelligence document right here; your name is at the top of the security risk alert. You are one unbelievable fuck up, Private Ishmael. But you are lucky. We have need of a dispensible fuck up. We have an emergency that only a rat eating junior league poet could stomach. Are you up for a challenge, soldier, or do you want me to call the poet firing squad; the decision is yours. You have ten seconds to name that tune."

"Knock, Knock, Knocking on Heavens Door?"

"Very good soldier. Strap this bomb to your chest, sign this certificate of sacrifice, and take this threatening note to the Ant King Enlil the Large. As he is reading the note, blow yourself up. That will be all.