Back to Saskatchewan Mailbag

Hi ya, folks, GBCN viewers and gentle Festung Europa readers throughout the fifty-six nations of the free world. It is I once again, Mark Kingsley, Camouflage Mariner, reporting to you from Uranium City on the beautiful shores of Lake Athasbasca, Saskatchewan. Summer is almost here in the North Country, and the evenings are long, great for sitting on the porch, swatting the first squadrons of giant mosquitoes (swats a mosquito with a newspaper) and pondering life in general, eh. It has been some time since we opened up our mailbag, so let's dig right in. But first, we have an important message from our sponsor.

(STD electronica theme music)

(Old, bearded gentleman, smoking a pipe, is seated in a high-backed leather chair against a backdrop of books, i.e. the standard setting to make someone look wise and important. He speaks in a raspy voice...)

Greetings, ladies and gentlemen, this is William Oden, host of GBCN's long-running quiz show, Smoke the Dead, inviting you to tune in next week for an all-star engagement of rock and roll's finest. After the stunning success of our Car Wreck week, where the decapitated Jayne Mansfield was head and shoulders above the rest of the smoked pack, it is Dead Rock Stars' week on Smoke the Dead, and we have resurrected some of the finest musicians of the past fifty years to participate in this week's program. We've got such big names as Jim Morrison, Jimi Hendrix, Kurt Cobain and Elvis Presley for our guests to challenge. Perhaps they will even be successful enough to, ahem, Smoke the Dead! We hope to see you there!

We're back with the Back to Saskatchewan Mailbag, folks, and let's take a looksie at our first letter, which comes from, uh, Astatula, Florida, of all places. (rips open letter and swats mosquito with it) It reads:

Dear Defensemaster,

Where are all the real people?

Your friend,

Fred in Florida

Dear Fred,

Since you have left your letter open to quite a bit of interpretation, let me give you my free-flowing answer. Real people...they are everywhere. How do I know this? When I was growing up undercover in the heart of Xarlon Amerika, I tuned in Wednesday evenings to the Xarlon Network for Building Conformity (NBC) to a program entitled just that, Real People. It featured such fine, milfic beauty as the lovely Sara Purcell and the hilarious comedy of the late, great Skip Stephenson, who was taken from this world at the young age of 52 due to a heart attack likely brought on by strict adherence to the diet of his native Omaha, Nebraska, namely beef and more of it. Fred Willard also appeared on the show and, being true to the Xarlon Diversity Directive (XDD), they had, of course, a black man, Byron Allen, on the show as well. Each week, they investigated just what "real" people were doing across Xarlon Amerika, and being an alien to this planet and culture, I found the show enlightening. Its greatest lesson was this: if you can find normal people doing abnormal things, you have a television hit. I don't care if it is a man who allows himself a beard of bees or some guy on the backroads of Missouri with a nativity scene made entirely of fingernail clippings and nose pickings: people will tune in to see just about anything unusual. I took this with me to GBCN, and it has been a formula which has paid off in spades.

OK, that was different, eh? How about another letter? Here's one from a gentle reader in Boise, Idaho:

Dear Defensemaster,

I am ashamed that I let my children read your website, as I see it is nothing more than FILTH and DEPRAVITY! Where, o where, is the wholesome entertainment for which GBCN was once known? Count my family and me out as future visitors of this den of sin!

Sincerely,

Marge is Mad

Dear Marge,

I can certainly understand your concerns, but let me ask you this: since when was GBCN known for anything BUT filth and depravity? We've been showing bush & boobies longer than Home Box Office, and in terms of language, we expect everyone to respect our rights as citizens of the Stingray Regime to express ourselves freely, without fear of reprisal, as is, of course, the case of the Xarlon Empire. So let me ask you another question, Marge Baby: would you feel better subjected to the mind-numbing idiocy of the Xarlon networks? I thought not. I expect this whole thing to blow over and for you to join us again soon once you have been subjected to what I consider real, depraved filth.

Well, it looks like you can't please everyone all the time, eh, folks? Marge, if you are still reading, we'll try to kiss and make up by sending you a complimentary, autographed copy of Loren Christensen's new, seminal work entitled Fucked: The Life and Times of a Post-Modern Man, available at fine, underground booksellers throughout the free world. (Takes book and swats mosquito with it.)

Gentle reader, we haven't had the opportunity to read our mail in quite some time, so let's take another letter from one of you, eh! Here's one from Slavonski Brod, Croatia:

Dear Defensemaster,

We in Croatia love your site and everything it stands for. We are especially fans of E.J. Ra. When can we expect more exciting episodes?

Best regards,

Slobodan in Slav Brod


Dear Slobodan,

As Michael Palin's Heinrich Himmler character said while toking on a cigarette in Monty Python Episode 12, "Soon, baby!"

Well, that just about wraps it up (swats mosquito flying near his face), folks! It has been a pleasure, eh. But before we go, in the spirit of the season, I have asked our local Canadian Mounted Police Quartet to perform a local hit. We'll see you again soon from the beautiful shores of Lake Athabasca!

(Quartet, in traditional uniform and standing behind Mark on porch, hums in key and then begins singing...)

There's a skeeter on my peeter, whack it off!
(Whack it off!)
There's a skeeter on my peeter, whack it off!
(Whack it off!)
There's a dozen on my cousin,
I can hear them fuckers buzzin'!
There's a skeeter on my peeter, whack it off!
Aaaaaaaaaaa-
Mennnnnnnn!