The Puppet

( – promoted by buhdydharma )

I am not a puppet. It’s not me who is on the CIA payroll. It’s everyone around me. My brother whatshisname and my Security Chief, whoozeits. The Opium Trade is on the CIA payroll, not me. I am no puppet.

I am as legitimate as they come. I was elected. I counted the votes myself. I am trying to close down corruption. I am against the criminal contractors who steal DVDs and Skittles from my people. That’s why I have given them three months to either leave the country or give me a fair share of the booty. Would a puppet do that?

And when they say ‘puppet’ what do they mean? A hand puppet or one of those with a bunch of strings to pull. A whatsit. A Marionette. As opposed to a Martinet. Are my critics saying America has its hand up my ass? Or are they just pulling my strings? I think it’s an important distinction. Not that either is true. I am not any kind of a puppet. I am my own man. An Island in an Ocean of Men. I may not be a big island like Australia or Madagascar but I am certainly bigger than Grenada or St. Barts. I do have pipelines and opium and trillions of dollars in strategic resources that I want my fair share and no puppet would ever stand up to such profiteering when murder is only a drone away.

For the people. Fair share for the people of Afghanistan. That’s what I meant. Thought it was inferred. Thought it was so obvious it didn’t need saying. For the people. Fair Share for the People. Not me. I am a patriot. That’s why I don’t want America to withdraw the troops prematurely in the next century. Chaos. Chaos is the enemy of progress. We have profit to exploit for the people. One needs a police state in the modern world. Too many radicals around. Taliban, Mujahedin, War Lords, Drug Lords, Doctor without Borders, Christians without Crosses, you name it and there is a group to create chaos in the vacuum left without a police state to enforce the laws and make it impossible to impede progress of profit for the people.

I do not want the Troops to stay because I am a puppet. Stop calling me that. I am like a stuffed animal next to puppet. A puppet is someone with real power whose strings are pulled or whose someone’s hand is up someone’s ass to get the puppet to do something only he can do. Like oppress the people or give no bid contracts to your friends.  I don’t have any power. I don’t have any friends. Now, Obama, he’s a puppet. A puppet for Insurance and Pharmaceutical companies. Bankers and Finance Companies. Oil Companies. The military industrial complex. And the golf vacation industry. He’s a puppet. Don’t look at me.

Hell, they call me the Mayor of Kabul. I can’t make a move without a mob chasing me down the street to stone me to death for treason. They’ve got me hermetically sealed in my Presidential Palace. If the troops leave I won’t be the Mayor of Kabul, I’ll be the fly-infested-maggot-ridden Corpse of Kabul. Does that make me a puppet? A thirst for self-preservation? My enemies are everywhere: Pakis to the right, Iran to the left not to mention Russia and dozens of Crazystans everywhere with their tribal elders who smell like camels and have the manners of goats.

I am civilized. And a cross dresser. I can wear Kaftans and Armani Suits. I am comfortable at an Arms Bazaar or a Board Meeting. Puppet. Pinocchio was a puppet until the fairies turned him into a little boy. I have always been a little boy and now you think the Neocons and Generals have turned me into a puppet? Preposterous.

I am not a puppet.

I am an employee.