Run to the hills! The hills!

Not that I want to alarm anybody, but I feel you should be warned that AMERICA IS DOOMED. Sure, there's an article about the end of the American way of life every other day. It's impossible for a week to pass without hearing about high school students who, if asked to find China on a globe, would up end shooting someone. As compared to countries like Finland where the average high school student has already finished graduate school and builds supercolliders when they're not out ending world hunger. Yeah yeah, America is on the way out. Whatever.

If only it was that simple. When some seemingly unrelated news events are pieced together they spell apocalypse for the good old USA.

The first sign of our demise is the little tidbit of news concerning the guy who crashlanded his plane on the White House lawn. Warning bells should be tearing through your head. Correct me if I'm wrong, but didn't the USSR have some lunatic land a Cessna in Red Square? What happened a short time later? You bet your sweet booties the world went down one superpower. It's all so painfully obvious.

The secret service has determined that the White House's unannounced flying house guest was not a terrorist. What has happened is that an average Joe bellyflopped his aircraft where President Clinton barbeques his steaks. That's the official story, but I ask you, has anyone seen Socks the Cat? I'm betting that poor little cat is wearing a wrecked plane for a hat. A well-concealed fact is that Socks 'was' the real brains in the White House. With Socks out of the way the INVASION OF AMERICA can proceed on schedule.

The rest of this sick, little drama involves: 1) the baseball strike 2) George Burns and 3) Quebec's separatist movement. What does the national pasttime, a fossilized comedian and a bunch of French-Canadians have to do with America's day of reckoning? The answers all lie in the Sept. 14 Wildcat.

Hidden away in the pages of our very own paper are the invaders' secret transmissions. First off, George Burns. The Wildcat ran an Associated Press article about the aged comic undergoing surgery, harmless enough. But a closer look reveals that in the first 10 paragraphs there are the same five lines repeated throughout the story: "to drain a buildup of fluid on his brain," "the fluid collected on Burn's brain," "the fluid was drained," "hoped to avoid draining the fluid," and "again so they drained the fluid."

Fluid, drain, brain . come on people, these are code words. All those lines, THEY HAVE TO MEAN SOMETHING.

Next comes Quebec, otherwise known as "the hurt inner child province." French-Canadians must be an insecure people. Every couple of years to get attention, they bemoan their problems and claim they're going to secede from the United Provinces of Canada or whatever it's called. What the hell would Quebec export . hockey players? Anyway, this time, they're serious. When they do secede a party called Bloc Quebecois will assume power. Bloc Quebecois sounds like a militaristic group to me. Not being happy with only Quebec, the Bloc will turn its aggression south toward unsuspecting America.

That's when the baseball strike enters the picture. Deep cover Quebecian spies have been subverting baseball in preparation for THE INVASION. It's possible that the Yankees' owner George Steinbrenner has always been working for the soon-to-be Evil Empire of the Great White North. The French-Canadians know America's biorhythm will be at an all-time low on the first missed World Series game in 89 years. That's the day they'll attack. One final sign remains a go: when you hear a news story about George Burns with a veritable Big Gulp full of fluid in his head stealing a small aircraft and divebombing the White House, you should run for the hills because hordes of Quebecian soldiers armed with hockey sticks will soon be pouring across our undefended borders. It'll be murder followed by mayhem with a light chance of pillaging followed by more . by more .

Actually, now that I think about it, the Bloc Quebecois Army (BQA) doesn't stand a chance. The first time they run into a nice-sized high school, we'll tell the students those French speaking fellows would like them to find Zimbabwe on a map. I almost pity the Bloc.

James Dongweck is a junior. Brain fluid drained. Repeat, brain fluid drained.

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