Friends, I know you have been waiting eagerly for my report on the Christmas Party at the Straight White Men's Cultural Center on Christmas Eve (the night before Christmas). It is unfortunate that I spent the last three days in jail because of my unwavering support for our beloved president. Let me explain.

We assembled the straight white men together in the recreation room of the center. Brandon Hitler, who is the president of the center (and hopefully will be elected president of the country in 2024!), opened the festivities by making a speech about the need to control breeding amongst the lower classes through arranging "accidents" and performing routine castrations as needed (bring friends to hold the poor person down while you work your magic). There was a lot of applause, but also confused looks amongst some of the gathered straight white men.

There was a buffet, but this one guy kept picking items up and putting them back down on the buffet table after sniffing them and making a face, so that was not something that was too appetizing for a man with class such as myself (your friend Behr, who is me and we know each other from the "internet"). The cocktails were nice and I was feeling a little woozy when the Christmas show began. This was a piece of performance art that Brandon Hitler conceived and wrote with two of his creative partners (who are both straight white men). Seats were still available and I had purchased tickets in advance for this event, so we filed into the auditorium at the cultural center and took our seats (it was general admission so there was a LOT of punching and I did slice through the tendons of one member's upper arm, so that was good).

Some toddlers from the lower classes were brought up in sacks and dumped out onto the stage. They had been drugged with at least five different illicit medications, so they were crawling around in confusion and making strange wailing sounds. All had been dressed up in costumes like sheep to commemorate the birth of Baby Jesus. Two dozen straight white men came onto the stage dressed as wolves, which is another part of the Jesus Christmas story being re-enacted, and with sharp knives descended upon the sheep and tore them to pieces. Bits of arms, entrails, and brains of these toddlers were whipped out into the audience and there was a loud cheers. Fantastic time. Wholesome.

It was a beautiful thing in the Bible (which is what my theme park is partly based on in addition to being a celebration of the Constitution) when Jesus and his wolves descended upon the poor who were tending their flocks and absolutely tore them to pieces, throwing arms, legs and entrails high into the air. We celebrate that at Christmas. It is a long forgotten tradition that is sort of alluded to in the Book of Matthew.

Afterwards, I was walking home and saw this wimpy guy walking along looking sad with his glasses and his inability to score with chicks. I decided to kick the crap out of him before heading home, leaving him on someone's lawn fighting to catch his breath. It was satisfying, but not as satisfying as the cookies I would later eat (kids set them out for Santa Claus who doesn't exist, so I am doing kids a favor by breaking into their homes at night while fully armed and taking the cookies so they can believe in Santa for another year). Some of the cookies were terrible. Those kids will not fare well when they encounter me in 2019, I can tell you that. A sound beating teaches youth valuable lessons.

Chopper bought me a wool hat for my bald head for Christmas (holiday I discuss above) and I put that on before going outside. There was a chill in the air and a light was on in the house down the road that is right where I want to build my ride that is based on Jesus and the wolves descending upon the children/sheep (it is a parable of some consequence). It was time to exercise my constitutional right to manifest destiny, so I got my ball-peen hammer, my needle-nosed pliers, and the thing I like to shove forcibly into people's ears because it tears the absolute shit out of their whole hearing system and no amount of surgery can correct it, and I went to work on this pathetic family that was in the way of my plans to build a theme park in my neighborhood to celebrate the Bible and the Constituion so kids won't forget what this country is all about.

It was just after I entered their house, having to smash a window because, like many neighborhood families, they had installed extra locks and security, that the lights and sirens were going off all around the house. The cops had arrived and I had just smashed this window and my eighty-six year old body with my badly distended and black, fluid filled belly, was in the process of climbing through the window. They pointed guns at me and told me to put my hands up.

I thought about meancing towards them in the hopes of scaring them off, but they were likely trained for that eventuality, so I simply surrendered like Dudley Moore at the Battle of Waterloo. I kid you not. It really happened like that. I was put into the back of a squad car and driven to the police station. This was a setback, as I had just finished the twenty hours of community service for ending the life of a frail old man.

These cops turned out to be from the FBI, and we all know Obama still controls the FBI from his secret mountain outpost in the Rocky Mountains. This is why they are bothering God's Chosen President so much, but I don't want to get into that. You know the score. They said they had been tracking my movements for some time and they were "highly suspicious" of me. I asked if I could get a can of pop.

I am being held in a special "safe house" somewhere in Delaware (a pathetic state when compared to Maryland) and I was given limited computer access. These FBI agents are so stupid you wouldn't believe it. They are encouraging me to daylog about my activities as much as possible. They say it helps their case when I do. Idiots. Sad.

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