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All Government is Local

So yesterday we ran out of oil in our house. Sorry no update, but it's kinda' hard to sit at a computer and write while your nutsack is trying to burrow itself inside you.

After spending the night in a house where I can see my breath, I can clearly see how people can go to war for oil.

Actually, me and my roommate have taken a lesson from our government. See, we have ordered our oil rich neighbor, Mr Fagan, to disarm completely and unconditionally of his weapons of mass destruction, less face occupation.

When asked what exactly we meant by "weapons of mass destruction" we refreshed Mr Fagan's memory with these satelite photos taken of the inside of his shed.

Fertilizer. The main ingredient used in the Oklahoma City bombing.

Mr Fagan thus far has replied that our accusations of him having any sort of weapons of mass destruction are baseless. The fertilizer that we found are used for peaceful lawn care uses only. He went on to say that he's just a "simple insurance salesman" and has no resources to obtain, or reason to aquire any dangerous materials, and that our only purpose in this matter is to take his oil for our own.

Due to the serious nature of this matter, I found it would be prudent to consult with the international neighborhood.

Thus far, Mr English, and Mr Espainosa stand firm with us. They understand that a man with a history of cutting down his own lawn has no justifiable need for fertilizer.

Our biggest obstacle has come from Mr Redski, Mr Fahrvergnügen, and especially, Mr Francois. However much they may sympathize with our security concerns, they see no legal means to throw the guy out of his own home simply because he has "a few bags of fertilizer in his shed", and that we should go about getting our oil through traditional means; by calling the oil company.

Obviously the name Timothy McVey means nothing to these Surrender Monkeys. First, despite what I wrote at the beginning, this has NOTHING to do with oil! We need to move on from past remarks that were made several minutes ago.

Second, with the addition of a lot more stuff, Mr Fagan could decide to blow up any number of things. Including, but not limited to..a church, a post office, a daycare, an Arby's, a school for deaf babies, your grandmother's house, basketball courts, KFC, sperm banks, Fayva, ...you name it.

Thus far, all my colleagues in the international neighborhood seem to be concerned with is stating how Mr Fagan has never blown anything up, nor has he threatened to. But what they steer clear of acknowledging, is that if it were at all possible for Mr Fagan to completely flip out and go ape shit around town, isn't he in possession of the first ingredient of making his diobolical dreams of death and destruction a reality?

In a calculated effort to fool the international neighborhood, Mr Fagan has turned over a pair of garden scissors, and some bug spray to give the illusion as if he were disarming.

This might be good enough for Mr Francois, who between bites of smelly cheese praised Mr Fagan for his efforts in avoiding a hostile confrontation.

But as I stated before, our resolve will not be compromised. Mr Fagan needs to comply fully by the will of myself and my roommate, or we will have no other choice but to throw his ass out in the snow, and move into his plush living quarters, and liberate the good food in his fridge.

LETS'S ROLL!

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