Jesus' General

Rockin' with the Barbster

I see that the damned Frenchman, Atrios, is pushing a story about Our Leader's daughter attending some kind of homosexual rock concert at a gay bar. It's a lie. I know that, because I was there.

I happened to be in Connecticut for a gladiator movie enthusiast convention--I got to hold the protective cup worn by Charlton Heston in "Ben Hur"--when I saw a flyer for a band called "Pansy Division." Of course, I realized that it must be a typo. Nobody would call their band that. Obviously, it was supposed to say "Panzer Division." I read about them in the July issue of "Modern Supremacist." They're in the forefront of the "Aryan Groove" movement where the non-Aryan aspects of music, like rhythm, are discarded.

They were playing at a place called Rudy's in New Haven which wasn't too far away, so I decided to go. I figured that even if I didn't like the music, I could watch a football game or something. A place called Rudy's has to be a sports bar.

I arrived after the band had started and it was very loud and dark inside. I asked the bouncer if there was a game on, and he said there's always one on and then grabbed my little soldier. Needless to say, I was taken aback. Knowing that I was in his territory, I prepared myself to surrender until I realized that he was probably just frisking me. I smiled, and he smiled but he didn't let go. I didn't know what to do. My little soldier was starting to get excited at the prospect of manly combat. I was going to have an embarrassing bulge in my cammies soon, and some of the other patrons might get the wrong idea. You don't want a crowd of "Panzer Division" fans thinking you're not one hundred percent heterosexual, which, of course, I am.

Thank God, Our Leader's daughter, Barbara, arrived just then and distracted the bouncer, allowing me to slip away. She's very purty, but what turned everyones' heads was her Secret Service bodyguard. It was a lady with big muscles wearing a muscle tee with the word "BULL" written in big capital letters on it. Man, she was scary.

Anyway, I took that moment to slip further into the room to see if I could find some Notre Dame mugs or hats or something. I could now see the band. They were a bunch of very hard -core warriors. You have to be really tough to get away with wearing tight pink spandex.

I was just standing there in awe when I heard the call of the Aryan wolf in my ear. "Woof," the man behind me barked. Turning around, I saw a dumpy little guy smiling at me, saliva leaking from the left side of his mouth. "Hello," he said with a British accent, "My name is Andrew and I love your big tummy." "Hmmm," I thought, "that was strange, but he did woof at me." I figured the "tummy" thing was some kind of local Aryan greeting.

Well, Andrew turned out to be a great guy. He bought me drinks all night long and told me about his great job writing articles praising Our Leader. I can't say I remember much about the rest of the night because I drank quite a bit. At one time, I remember comparing my chest hair to his, but everything else is pretty much blank.

I woke up the next morning naked with about seven other guys in Andrew's hotel room. I was a bit worried that I had come under Satan's spell again, but Andrew assured me that we had decided to retire in the manner of Spartan warriors. I knew they slept with each other naked, but I didn't know that they used vaseline to repel body vermin until Andrew explained it to me. A warrior like myself is always learning.

Anyway, I think my story completely discredits the claim published by Atrios. There were no homosexuals at Rudy's that night. Barbara was just having a bit of old fashioned Aryan fun.

BTW, I recieved a package in the mail yesterday. It was Charlton Heston's cup. A single word was written on the card that acompanied it. That word was "woof."